That’s how I’m feeling about everything these days: ugh. No.
The city remains as cold as ever. A few days after Angoulême, I pop into one of the Latin Quarter’s identical gyro joints, seeking warmth in the form of hot frites. Or French fries, which should really be called Belgian fries, if America wants to get correct about it.
Ohmygod. No wonder I don’t have any friends.
The restaurant is empty. I sit in the back with the second volume of the Chinese-American split-life autobiography. I haven’t been able to put it down. Much of it is depressingly, satisfyingly familiar.
The door dings, and another customer enters the restaurant.
Sanjita looks as startled to see me as I am to see her. She waves, uncertain. I return the gesture. She also purchases a sleeve of frites, and I’m thankful that she’s the one who has to make the decision: leave or join me. The restaurant is too small, and we have too much of a history, for her to sit alone.
She’s hesitant. Fearful. She joins me anyway.
“It’s freezing out there,” she says.
I’m surprised by how grateful I am for her company. “I know. I wish it’d hurry up and snow already.”
“Me, too. It feels wrong for it to be this cold without it.”
There’s an uncomfortable pause. It’s the kind that follows any general statement about the weather, the kind that’s filled with everything we aren’t saying. I’m trying to come up with another neutral topic when she asks, “How’s Josh doing?”
The blood drains from my face.
Sanjita doesn’t notice. She pokes at her fries. “I felt so bad for you guys when he had to leave.”
This unexpected moment of compassion tugs on my heart. “I…don’t know how he’s doing. I think he’s okay. We broke up last month.”
“You did?” She raises her head in surprise. “But you were perfect for each other.”
The floor dips. “You thought so?”
“Of course. And you’d been in love with him for, like, ever. That must have been crazy when you actually started dating him.”
The relief I feel at being understood – really and truly understood – is profound. The emptiness inside of me transforms into an instant flood of emotion. “It was crazy. It was amazing. It was…the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Sanjita scoots forward, and her dangly gold earrings sway. “So what went wrong?”
“I liked him – I loved him – but I don’t think he loved me the same way in return.”
Her shoulders fall. “He broke up with you.”
“No. I broke up with him.”
She winces. “Oh. Ouch.”
“I know.”
But her frown only grows. “I don’t get it. You guys were glued to each other. I saw the way he looked at you. He never looked at Rashmi like that.”
My heart stops. I could never ask Nikhil, but…Sanjita.
“Wh-what were they like as couple? Your sister and Josh?”
She shrugs, and her long earrings sway again. “I don’t know. They bickered constantly. I think they were more similar, more stubborn and determined, than they realized. It was why they sort of worked together, but why it never could’ve lasted. There was no balance.”
Josh and I had balance. Didn’t we?
“Not like she ever told me anything.” Sanjita scowls. “But, from the outside, it seemed like they’d both be better off with partners who were softer. Like you.”