Page 39

JULIAN

The silence of my condo feels louder now. Everywhere I look, I see the shadow of Arush. Reminders he’s not here. That he belongs here.

I’m not sure if it’s the physical distance between us or the eleven-hour time difference, but his texts are sporadic. Sometimes I think he responds to a message when he thinks I’m sleeping. So I don’t answer?

I stand in the doorway of the bedroom where his belongings are unpacked—as I have several times over the last few days. There’s a drawer in the dresser not shut all the way. There’s an article of clothing sticking out, bunched up, preventing it from closing.

On top of the dresser are two framed pictures. Both have him in them with several others. I’ve come to the conclusion that the one with a lot of people is his family. Parents, siblings, and nieces and nephews. The second is him with his three close friends.

There’s a short pile of folded clothes at the end of the bed. A towel that he’d tossed beside them that he must have had wrapped around himself when he got out of the shower and entered the bedroom to get dressed. The closet will be filled with clothes if I open the door.

I know if I enter the bedroom and peer into the bathroom, I’ll find signs of him everywhere. A toothbrush on the counter. Shampoo in the shower. Maybe some shower gel. A razor? Will I find lotion? His skin is so soft, I feel like there must be lotion in his daily routine.

Turning my attention from the open door of the bathroom I can’t see into from this angle, I look at the desk to my left. Arush’s laptop is plugged in and charging. There’s a book on the corner of the desk. Another on the nightstand.

I catch a stray, balled-up sock sticking out from under the bed. A bed that’s rumpled. Not quite made, but not slept in. He hasn’t slept in that bed for the past two months. Longer than that.

Part of me wants to close the door of the bedroom. I don’t want to look in and remember he’s not here. Pretending that he was never here makes my chest ache, so I don’t.

Aimlessly, I walk back into my bedroom, where my bed is a mess. Blankets are strewn about as if I tossed and turned all night. I didn’t. I barely slept at all. Every time I rolled over to reach for Arush, he wasn’t there.

The pillow doesn’t smell like him anymore.

In the living room, I find his tablet on the end table where he left it.

The two throw pillows he often sits with are right where he left them, wedged into the corner of the couch.

There’s an engineering magazine on the coffee table.

I want to flip through it, but I also don’t want to interrupt the memory he’s left behind.

My kitchen is filled with Indian flavors. Spices. Foods.

It’s inching toward ten in the morning, so I send him a text.

Me

Thinking of you.

That’s it. Three words. I stare at the screen, wishing he’d pop up and tell me he misses me. That he’s looking forward to coming back.

I refuse to entertain the idea that maybe he doesn’t want to.

I need to get out of the condo. The water bottles we bring to the gym are still sitting on the counter. I pick up the one Arush usually uses and fill it with water. Then I leave the condo to give his ghost a break from haunting me.

The hallway is no better. His hand is almost always in mine when we step into the hall. I can see his shy smile and feel the phantom pressure of his shoulder against mine when I step into the elevator.

The gym is empty. It’s a rare occasion that I’m the only one here, but I take advantage of it. I wish I could scream. Maybe I’ll take a dip in the pool later, just so I can scream underwater where the water will drown the sound.

I step onto the treadmill to warm up. I forgot my earbuds. Since I sent Arush home with the ones that are always in my pocket, I’m out of routine without them there to grab on my nightstand when I pick up my phone in the morning.

My eyes get stuck on the monolog clock on the wall, staring at the second hand as it slowly makes revolution after revolution.

With each spin, the strange guilt in my chest that I can’t fully grasp becomes more and more numb.

The static noise in my brain fades. The image of Arush hovering in my peripheral vision becomes clearer and clearer.

It’s so crisp at one point, I look to my right, where he last worked out with me. Right at my side. Where I was once so convinced he’d always be.

We were meant to be together. I’m positive I didn’t make that up. I’m so damn sure that he feels that, too. So why is everything weird right now? Why am I so convinced that I’ll never see him again?

The door opens, and my focus on the clock breaks as James and Tobias enter the gym.

“Heyyy,” James says.

“Eleven!” they exclaim together.

Most days, it doesn’t fail to make me smile. Today, though, I’m not feeling it, but I try as they approach to exchange fist bumps.

“Four,” I greet.

“Where’s your roommate?” Tobias asks, examining the treadmill beside me as if Arush is under an invisible cloak or something.

“In India. There was a family emergency.” I’ve gone over my options for when someone asks where he is, and that seems to be the most generic answer while still being the truth.

“Aw, man,” James says. “Everything okay?”

I nod. “I think it’s getting better, but there’s still a long road ahead.

” He told me his sister is still fighting her internal injuries, but she’s defying the doctors’ prognoses of an untimely death.

She should’ve died from her wounds, but she’s still alive.

That had been a voice memo from him. I think he sent it so I could hear the mocking in his words.

It’s the only voice memo he’s sent and while the words themselves are not exactly a love letter, it’s his voice and I listen to it constantly. Especially since there’s the beginning of a snort-laughter before it cuts off.

“Is he coming back?” James asks.

When I put him on the plane, I would have said yes.

I would have said yes in the following twenty-four hours when he was there with his sister and family.

I want to say yes now, but the tightness in my chest leaves me struggling for a breath because…

I’m not as convinced of that. Every hour apart feels like the mountain between us grows and grows.

How long before I’m no longer able to scale it to reach him?

“I don’t know,” I admit.

“Aw. Sorry, man. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to have lost your roommate,” James says.

I glance at him in time to see Tobias wrap an arm around James’ shoulders, and they exchange probably the most convincing look of lovers that I’ve seen them share before.

I think the entire building speculates that ‘ roommate ’ is a code word.

It’s the hetero-accepted reason for two grown men to be living together.

If Ellie is any judge of character and situation—and she often is—they’re hiding a romance the likes of Romeo and Juliet without the tragedy and death.

Thankfully, they drop the topic of Arush, and I lose myself running on the treadmill until my water is gone. I rarely notice taking sips of water as I work out. It happens as naturally as breathing. It isn’t until I’m sucking air that I register having gone through my water.

Today, that’s the sign that I’m finished. I wave at Tobias and James on my way out and head upstairs. I take the stairs today to prolong my workout. Nothing wrong with a little step aerobics. And also because there’s no phantom of Arush there.

That brief reprieve disappears once I step into the eleventh-floor hall, and then I practically feel him everywhere once I step into my apartment. With a heavy sigh, I head for my bathroom to take a shower and let the sweat wash down the drain.

Clean and pretending to be refreshed, I make myself a protein shake and take it onto the balcony.

The weather has finally turned consistently nice.

As I take a seat in one of the chairs, I glance up at the sky.

There’s a chill in the air as rain clouds move in overhead.

I feel a drop on my cheek. It’s a big enough drop that it runs down my skin before dropping onto my hoodie.

Is that a sign that I can just have a good cry and be done with it? Is someone giving me a sign that… that what?

I sit there for a while, drinking down my shake, as I watch the world turn ground and flowery around me.

Even with the occasional rain droplets, the world outside my condo looks filled with growing, blossoming life.

There’s a happy, renewed vibe in the city that comes with spring.

People who have been cooped up for months are stepping outside to enjoy the sun.

The sun is only barely peeking through the rain clouds, but hey, at least it’s trying.

I’m startled when Skylar’s head pops up over the privacy wall separating our balconies. She flashes me a huge grin, loving that she scared me.

“Hey, frulian. What’s up?”

I raise my shake. “Feeding my muscles. You?”

She shrugs. “Taking a break from trying to create a wormhole.”

“Is that possible?” I ask, both impressed and terrified that this girl can likely figure it out if she had the resources.

Skylar gives me a wicked smile, which only frightens me more. “Maybe. I’ll report back one way or another.” She glances at my door. “Where’s Arush?”

I love how everyone misses him. Everyone asks about him. I hate it too because it hurts a little more every time.

“He went home.”

She frowns. “I thought this was his home.”

Great. Now I feel a well of emotion in my chest, threatening to drop like the rain. Where’s the rain to hide my tears, though?

I’m saved from answering more than a nod when there’s a knock on my door. I get to my feet and tap her hand on the way by. “Don’t let your parents catch you up there. They’re convinced you can’t fly, and I’m not sure I want you to prove them wrong.”

Her big grin is accompanied by an eye roll.

Typical teenager. I step inside, shutting the door behind me.

I drop my shake on the counter on my way to open the door.

One of the building workers is there with a dolly stacked high with boxes.

Another joins him as the elevator opens, another box on a second dolly.

This one is tall and narrow, like a huge tube.

“Good afternoon, Mr. White,” the man says. I think his name is Peter. “We have a large delivery for you.”

I frown. “I didn’t order any of this.”

“Your names are on them.”

Huh. Okay. I take a step back and allow them to bring the boxes in. They set them in the space between my living and dining areas. I thank them with a tray of cookies that I’d made yesterday to pass the time.

When they’re gone, I take a look at the box on top. The shipping label has my name and Arush’s name. A sight that makes my chest tight. Our names look good together.

I don’t allow myself to stare at that detail for too long. There are almost a dozen boxes here, and I have no idea what they are or where they came from. A company called Wyneart.

Perhaps unwise, but I grab the box opener from the kitchen drawer and carefully open the first box.

There’s a plastic foam mat on the top to protect the contents.

The contents are all wrapped in plastic compression bags, which means I still have no idea what I’m looking at except that they’re brightly colored… something.

Once more, I cut into one of the bags, carefully, so I don’t ruin whatever it is hiding inside. When it’s finally free and allowed to have some air breathed into it, I’m looking at a brightly colored throw pillow.

Then another. A third. A box holds beautifully embroidered teal placemats.

It takes me going through the third box of home décor to realize Arush took me up on my offer for him to decorate however he wanted.

He ordered tons of stuff. I’m caught between wanting to box it all up and hide it in his room so I don’t have even more reminders he’s not here, and setting it all up just so I can feel closer.

In the end, I decide to set it up. Room by room, I place items where I think Arush meant for them to go. Including the new bedding that would only fit on my big bed.

The redecorating takes me several hours, so by the time I sit on the couch and log in to the game with my friends, I feel breathless and emotionally drained from picturing Arush beside me.

Telling me what each item is and where it should go.

Will he be pleased with where I put these things?

Will he laugh and tell me that’s not how you use something?

“Hey,” Hilt says when I connect. “What’s up, Chicago?”

I give him a grunt in response.

“How’s Arush’s sister?” Keno asks.

I close my eyes. Did I check my phone maybe eighty times today to see if Arush responded? Yes. “She’s recovering. Slowly, as makes sense given the extensive injuries.”

“How’s Arush?” Lo asks.

“Quiet,” I admit. “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him much.”

Silence answers me, and I try not to think that maybe I’ve given myself away about how much that stings.

“How does that make you feel?” Etna asks.

I snort with laughter and shake my head. I mean to tell him it’s fine. We were only friends, right? We’d never agreed on more.

Which is all a lie. We might not have been straightforward with blatant words of commitment, but we sure as fuck were together.

“I hate it,” I admit. “I’m fucking miserable. I don’t know what to do right now.”

“Jules, please understand that I truly love you when I say this,” Lo says.

“You’re being ridiculously oblivious right now, dude.

You haven’t bothered to hide what he means to you, even if you haven’t said a damn word to us about it, so I don’t know why you insist on ignoring the Indian elephant in the room. Stop being dense and go get your man.”

I don’t know if Lo’s words somehow give me permission or validation or what. But something unlocks inside me, and I know he’s right.

I reach for my phone, ready to send another text to Arush. One that is maybe a little more straightforward than he needs right now while he’s dealing with the scary situation with his sister. But I need to know where he’s at. I need to know what he’s feeling.

I need to know if he wants me like I want him.

But my heart stops when I see that I somehow missed his fucking message notification and the words make my breath whoosh out.

Arush Bakshi

I wish you were here.

“I have to go,” I say, and turn the console off before anyone can respond. Arush’s words were all I needed. I know exactly how to fix this.