Right Swipe

Hi, my name is Agastya Roman. I am an English literature student on an exchange program here in Texas. I grew up in Belarus and always had a fascination for stories. And one thing I have realized about stories is that the best ones happen at the most unexpected time with the most unexpected people. Well, this is not just a story, it is a more like a memoir… a memoir of the last one year that I want to give to Esha on our last day at the university… which happens to be today. So, I have sealed it nicely in an envelope to present to her today. I walk up to her apartment with the envelope in my hand and knock the door nervously. I knock again but no one answers. I realize its unlocked. So, I push it gently and enter inside…

One year ago…

I was attending a diversity & inclusion session organized by our university when I saw Esha for the first time. Petite face, wavy hair and cat-eyed glasses with college id dangling around her neck she looked nervous. There were students from different parts of the world speaking in different accents. After the initial introductions we were asked to mingle around and know each other. “Hi, my name is Agastya. How are you?” I introduced myself extending my hand to this young brown girl. She shook my hand awkwardly and in a soft voice and formal smile replied, “Hi, my name is Esha Reddy. I am good, thanks. I am from India.” We talked for a bit where she told me about her academics and cultural background and I shared mine. I could sense her awkwardness but she seemed nice. She was intrigued by my peculiar accent and I loved the fact that she was nothing like me. That was the first time we interacted. I didn’t know a casual encounter like this would one day turn out to be a narrative. The diversity class was a monthly session and with every meeting we started becoming friends.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months – life got busy with college and work. Gradually, with time, we had started to create our own little world on this foreign land – a world that was fast-paced and very different than my life back in Belarus. Amidst the busy life, friendship between Esha and I was building. We didn’t hang out much but spoke at lengths when we ran into each other. I could say she was shy, more like an introvert who just hung out with her girl friends.
“Today I had my first cultural shock here” I said to Esha as we got down from the bus.
She chuckled, “Why, what happened?”
“It’s the Black Friday weekend. They have a festival dedicated just for shopping here. Can you imagine that?” I said with surprise. “I mean shopping was a luxury back home”
“I know, right?” she said “but, hey, it’s not just that. I heard they do some amazing décor, music and it’s a beautiful ambience.”
“Oh, really?”
“Me and my friends are actually venturing out tomorrow, would you like to join?”

We had come to the Eastland shopping mall in downtown Dallas. The mall had become a lively place contrary to the mundane business hours. Every floor was decorated with festive lights, colorful artifacts and small live performances. It had been over three hours and we had gotten separated from her friends amidst the shopping chaos. We chatted a lot while hopping different stores and window shopping. She talked about her childhood, her friends, her conventional family and how she had to put up a fight to come study abroad. “My parents never thought their pampered little girl could travel so far on her own, let alone live life by herself” she said with a grin. I could see her affection for her family and at the same time her struggle to convince them that she’s a grown-up girl now. “But, you know, sometimes it feels like I have outgrown that phase now… and now I want to go deeper into the sea, dance with the waves, and set my soul free” she said mimicking it with her hands in a funny way. That day I saw a different side of Esha; a side which was very expressive, where she danced merrily to happy tunes and talked heartfully. I smiled, “I’ve never seen this side of your before, Esha. I always thought of you as someone shy and sensitive. You know like someone who likes to keep it to herself and her small group of people”
“Umm… yeah, maybe I’m a little introvert. I take time to open up. Like, I’m awkward talking to new people, I cry at small things and I don’t have those quirky come-backs, but I like to think of myself as someone strong” she looked down and then said, “but, you know, sometimes I doubt if I’m indeed that bold and confident as I think I am; what if my parents were right about me this entire time? I don’t want to live a life of disappointment” her eyes got moist. There was a small pause… I sneaked a peek and saw her struggle to hold back tears, but then changing the topic she promptly said, “hey, there is Macy’s here. Let’s go in and check out.” That day she had unknowingly introduced me to a new shade of her life… the shade of fear and vulnerability. She was scared of failing… scared of her worst dreams coming true. It was a dimension of her personality that I hadn’t seen before. I liked the way she was slowly peeling off layers of her personality like an onion.

We entered Macy’s. It was a giant store with flood lights and big brands. There is this beautiful aura in stores that makes you feel like buying everything you touch. I was walking through the aisles looking around while Esha was rummaging through the casual wears. I went and stood near her in the women section when my eyes feel on a beautiful dress. It was a simple, elegant maroon dress with nicely done borders and embroidery. I looked at it, thought for a second, then looked at Esha. It was a dress that would perfectly compliment her. I went up to her and said, “Look at this… what do you think?” She looked at it for a moment and said, “it’s beautiful, but too expensive” and went back to her rummaging. “Wait, I think you should try this” she looked at me in disbelief. “I mean don’t buy it… but just see how it looks on you?” She pressed her lips, thought for a second, and nodded her head in uncertainty.

It was getting dark outside now as shorter days marked the beginning of winter. A few minutes later I saw a young lady come out of the trial. She was nothing like the Esha I knew. Her slender legs seen rarely by the world looked appealing, while the dress kept complimenting all her features. She looked at me in anticipation for a response but words didn’t come out of me. She looked down to avoid my stare and there was an awkward silence. As I was about to say something her expressions suddenly changed, and she ran towards the glass wall with excitement. I looked back to see what happened. It had begun to snow. The first snow of the season. Mesmerizing. A light incessant snow forming a thin, slushy white blanket over the pavements, rooftops and trees. Streets dangling with yellow lights came to life all of a sudden as people started celebrating the first fall welcoming it with open arms. I was just staring at her from a distance. She still had that dress on her and pure bliss all over her face. She was not an obvious beauty – like beauty written all over her face. She was the kind of beauty that you gradually discover and that day I was captivated by her charisma. She came running with excitement towards me and dragged me to the window holding my hand. We were standing near the window watching the amazing view together. She hadn’t realized that her tender hand still held mine. Her brown skin made a nice contrast with my white hands while her wavy black hair blended perfectly with my brown curls. For someone standing behind us, the view of this juxtaposition of two diverse souls holding hands and enjoying their first snowfall together would have been a picture-perfect frame making him compliment the richness of nature and diversity of life.

It had been a month since the day we had gone shopping. Life had gotten busy with our semester and we barely spoke. I had realized by now that there were moments when she went into her shell and didn’t talk to anyone for days. Perhaps, moments where she wanted privacy living her identity. But now the semester was over and everyone had gone home. The campus was dead. Just a handful of us staying back. I had come to Esha’s apartment to hang out for a little bit. I was holding a cup of tea in my hand staring outside the window. A drizzle of rain had made the atmosphere pleasant. “Seems like you enjoy silence” she came and sat on the bean bag with her mug.
We talked for a little bit sitting there sipping hot tea. I told her about my passion for writing and my wish to go back and be a full-time blogger. She told me her dislike for cooking and how her mom still taught her traditional meals. After a while she stood up and said, “Now I’m craving Indian food. Would you like to taste some, I can make something for you?” I nodded. She went to the kitchen and started prepping and I laid down on her sofa holding a cushion over me. There was silence again in the house but this time it seemed familiar and fitting by her presence, by the sound of her cooking and her maneuvering in the kitchen. The living room had become dark, there was light just in the kitchen. It was a déjà vu moment of me sleeping in our small apartment in Belarus and hearing my mom cook in the kitchen. It felt good, it felt relaxed but more than anything it felt like home. After a brief thirty minutes or so I heard a voice calling out my name, “Food’s ready.” I jumped up and helped her set plates and serve.

We sat on her living room carpet floor to eat. A light-yellow bulb illuminated the space making a nice soothing ambience. “Do you want to watch something?” she asked. “Maybe some comedy?” I nodded. The food was delicious. It was flavorful and easy to eat. I saw her get engrossed in the video but my thoughts were elsewhere. More than food, I was delighted that we were together for the past few hours and it didn’t feel awkward even for a moment. It actually felt like home with her. I accepted it, to myself, that I had developed feelings for her. Unknowingly. Unintentionally. But, yes, I had. It wasn’t that I didn’t have lovers in the past but being with her, or just her presence, gave a surreal sense of wholeness. I remained quiet the entire time. After a while I helped her clear the plates and clean-up. She was in the kitchen wrapping up while I was sitting on her couch restless. Songs were getting auto-played on her laptop while she kept talking about her favorite comedians. I was lost imagining her in my life, a world where we lived together happily. Holding a bowl of ice cream, she came out asking “So what kind of blogger do you want to become?” I didn’t answer and kept staring into emptiness.
“Hello, where are you lost?” I didn’t react and then stood up from my place and started walking towards her. “Oh, can you get some spoons from the kitchen, pleas…?” I reached her and before she could finish the sentence, I bent and kissed her. Her lips were moist, warm and soft, and I could smell the faint floral fragrance on her neck. My eyes were closed and all of a sudden, the world around me stopped. After a few seconds, she pushed me back and ran inside the bedroom shocked. Everything came down crashing in that moment. I realized that not just the form I had chosen to express was impulsive but also the timing premature. In just a fraction of seconds, I had spoiled our equation forever but that night I learned that falling in love with somebody you had no intentions of falling for, is perhaps the most genuine kind of love.

Present day…

I walked up to her apartment with this letter in my hand and knocked the door nervously. It was a letter apologizing her and saying out everything I had bottled up in my heart up until now. I knocked again but no one answered. I realized it was unlocked. So, I pushed it gently and entered inside. The apartment was empty. I called out her name but no one responded. I realized she had left for good… without telling me. I couldn’t believe. In that moment it pierced my heart with excruciating pain and regret. Maybe I waited too long to come here. I sat down on the floor of her empty apartment and closed my eyes; it was the same place where we once had dinner together. Every small memory of her came back gushing at me and I realized how subtle her ways were.  She never forced herself to be with me but was content in my company, she never had a flirty conversation but was comfortable sharing her deepest fears, and she didn’t like to cook but did so willingly for me; perhaps she wanted to be with me and not – all at the same time. I believe she had a battle going on deep down within her. A battle between her conservative upbringing and her desire to flee for unobligated freedom. Perhaps she was in the process of some internal transformation. Perhaps she wouldn’t have accepted me for more than a friend, rather she wouldn’t have allowed herself to accept. I knew that and yet I was fantasizing the slimmest possibility of being with her. I never got a chance to bid her adieu or apologize, maybe that was my punishment. We didn’t have closure. But, somewhere within me, I knew if we are soul mates we would meet again in life when we are slightly older and mature and our minds less hectic. And maybe it would make more sense then but right now I was chaos to her thoughts, and she was poison to my heart. This envelope which had our little story remains unopened for now or maybe forever.