Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
“A w, I liked her,” said Nisha, sitting cross-legged on the floor of Arjun’s kitchen. “You’re really not going to see her again?”
Arjun, simmering a sauce on the stovetop, shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” she said. She was playing tug-of-war with Sally, who was pulling away at a Gumby toy that Nisha had bought for her. “That really sucks.”
“That’s the thing,” responded Arjun, dipping a spoon into the sauce to taste it. “It was great.”
Nisha laughed. “Did you hit your head or something?” she asked, letting Sally wrest the toy away from her. “You didn’t get the girl. That’s a bad thing, isn’t it?”
“That’s not the point, though,” he replied. “The relocation issue was a major deal-breaker for both of us. Normally, it would have taken months—or years—of dating for it to surface. Instead, because we came into our first meeting from the perspective that marriage was on the table, we found out about it immediately, before either of us was all that invested. Imagine all the heartache we both avoided.”
“It’s efficient, I’ll give you that.” Nisha scratched Sally behind the ear, and the dog rolled over for a belly rub.
Arjun had been trying—and failing—to recreate Gokul Rathore’s dum aloo recipe for nearly a week. He brought over the spoon and crouched in front of Nisha. “Blow,” he said, and Nisha did. “What do you think?”
“It’s getting there,” she said, her mouth wide open to vent the heat, her words thick with steam. “So, do you have any more of these meetings set up?”
“Not at the moment,” Arjun said, swabbing a dribble of sauce from the corner of Nisha’s mouth with his thumb before returning to the stove. “The matchmaker sent me a few more biodatas last night, and I still need to go through them. Who knows, though—the next woman I meet might be absolutely perfect.”
Nisha laughed.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“It’s nothing,” she said. “It’s just…do you really think that ‘perfect’ is achievable where love is concerned?”
He shrugged. “Why not? Perfection exists, you know. I can look at a Matisse painting or listen to a Mozart sonata and think, ‘That’s perfect.’ Why should love be any different?”
Nisha shrugged. “I don’t know, isn’t perfection sort of antithetical to the idea of love itself? Like, yeah, you have this internal checklist—in your case, a literal checklist—of everything you’re looking for. But doesn’t that seem a little too…sanitized?”
He frowned. “Sanitized?”
She nodded. “Like, would your Matisse be as beautiful if it were drawn by a computer? The beautiful thing about love, I think, is how human it is. And humans are messy, Arjun. Despite how much you might want to—you can’t control everything all the time.”
He considered what she’d just said. It sounded remarkably similar to his conversation with Vinay a few months ago. But his mind flashed back to the telephone message he’d received a few weeks back. Of course, Nisha didn’t know about Vicky Chang, but Arjun knew there must have been hairline cracks in that relationship before everything blew up. Things don’t just fall apart for no reason, he thought. An arranged marriage was an opportunity—and, if he could pick, why shouldn’t he? Yes, Arjun was set on making sure the foundation of his marriage was as solid as possible…but wasn’t that the best course of action when building something?
“Well, I’m not the only perfectionist here,” he said. “You are, too, Nisha—just in a different way.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your writer’s block. Staring at the blank page, not writing anything at all. It’s not because you don’t have the ideas anymore. It’s because you’re afraid your ideas aren’t perfect. You and I are much more similar than you think.”
“You seem to know a lot about writing, suddenly,” she said, smiling sarcastically.
He shook his head. “I know that it’s a lot easier to fix something that’s imperfect than to build something from scratch. God knows that’s why I’ve made fifteen terrible versions of this dish.”
Nisha nodded. “And what about the arranged marriage? Is that what you’re doing there, too?”
He shrugged. “I guess so,” he said. He tasted the sauce one last time. “Food’s ready, by the way.”
Arjun and Nisha returned to the office after having lunch at his apartment. He had a few meetings at the PSI complex, but he returned to the basement office around five.
“Hey, random question: did you find it hard to make friends here?” Nisha asked him, standing as she gathered her things.
“At first,” he admitted. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, it’s been six months since I moved to SF. And, so far, the only real friend I have is you. And I hated you at first. Like, really hated you.”
Arjun laughed. “At least you have Sally.” His dog was resting her in the corner of the room, and she perked up at the mention of her name. “Do you have plans tonight?”
Nisha shook her head. Arjun pulled out his phone and shot off a few text messages. “Come on,” he said. “I’m taking you to Kiki’s.”
Nisha raised an eyebrow. “What’s Kiki’s?”
Kiki’s was ostensibly a Hawaiian-themed bar, but other than a single drink called the “Tiki-la Sunrise,” there was no indication of the tropical theme. The bar was dark and low ceilinged, and the walls were covered in chipped green paint washed golden by the strings of fairy lights hung from the ceiling. There were pool tables in the center of the bar, and black vinyl booths ringed around them, hugging the walls.
“This is my favorite watering hole in the city,” Arjun explained, leading Nisha into the bar; after work, he’d dropped Sally off at his place and met Nisha outside Kiki’s at seven. “Mostly because they have the cheapest drinks in San Francisco.”
“Oh? Are they any good?” Nisha had changed into a floral-patterned dress underneath a slim-waisted black leather jacket.
“The absolute worst,” he replied, grinning. He and Nisha made their way to the back of the room, where Dan and Erica sat in one of the booths. “Hey guys,” said Arjun. “This is Nisha Nandan. Nisha, these are my best friends, Dan and Erica.”
“Aww,” said Dan. “I’m your best friend?”
“For now,” Arjun said, sliding into the booth behind Nisha.
The waitress came by with a steaming plate of appetizers and four beers. “We got here early,” Dan said, popping a few tater tots into his mouth. “Please, dig in.” Arjun removed the lime wedge from the edge of the glass and squeezed it into his beer; he noticed that Nisha did the same.
“So, Arjun says that you two share an office,” said Erica, sipping her drink. “How’s that going?”
“It’s going well!” said Nisha. “It’s very cozy, but we make do. Arjun brings his dog to the office most days now, which is a great perk when you’re at your laptop writing all day.”
“I’m so jealous,” Erica said. “We haven’t even gotten the chance to meet her yet.”
“Well, you guys are the busy ones,” Arjun said. “They’re getting married soon, and the wedding preparations have been keeping them stuck in their apartment most days,” he explained to Nisha.
“Congratulations,” she said. “Let us know if you ever need any help. I’m an expert at stuffing envelopes.”
Erica smiled. “Careful, we might just take you up on that.”
“So, Nisha, what kind of writing do you do at the Current ?” asked Dan.
“I’m in the Reviews section,” she replied. “I find cool books—or, more often, my editor finds books he thinks are cool—and I write about them. I do it all: fiction, nonfiction, cookbooks, and photography books. But I draw the line at picture books.”
“That’s amazing,” said Dan. “Have you heard of Madame Midnight’s ? It’s an erotic bookstore. But don’t worry—everything is done very tastefully.”
“This will be a while,” Erica said quietly to Arjun as Dan explained the store’s offerings to Nisha. “I might trade this IPA for something a little more…palatable. Want to come with?”
“Sure,” said Arjun, sliding out of the booth. He and Erica approached the bar and ordered a pitcher of Anchor lager.
“I like her,” Erica said, leaning against the bar. “And, I have to say, you make a very cute couple.”
Arjun pursed his lips. “A couple? No, we’re just friends.”
She seemed surprised. “Oh. I’m sorry, I just thought…never mind.”
Arjun felt suddenly defensive. “What makes you think we’re together?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. What is it?”
“Fine,” said Erica. “I’ve known you for a long time now, Arjun. And, let me tell you, the look on your face right now…well, you have the same look you did the first time you introduced me to Vicky Chang.”
Arjun felt his face redden. “It’s strictly platonic,” he sputtered. The bartender set the pitcher down on the bar, and the amber beer sloshed around inside and spilled down the sides.
“Whatever you say,” said Erica, grabbing the pitcher by the handle. “Come on, I’m sure they’re waiting for us.”
They returned to the booth. Dan was deep in conversation with Nisha. “You’re still talking about Madame Midnight’s ?” asked Arjun incredulously, taking his place beside Nisha again. “Honestly, Dan, no one will ever love that place like you do.”
“We were having a different conversation, thank you very much,” said Dan.
“About what?” Erica asked.
“About Arjun,” Dan replied. “Nisha was just telling me that he cooked for her today.”
Erica raised an eyebrow and prodded Arjun with her elbow. “You cooked for her?” She turned toward Nisha. “He’s only cooked for us a handful of times.”
“And it was delicious,” Dan said. “Did he tell you about his restaurant yet?”
Nisha looked at Arjun. “Restaurant?” she asked. “You never told me about a restaurant.”
Arjun smiled, slightly embarrassed. “Yeah. It’s an idea that I’ve been kicking around for a few years. Just something to occupy my free time.”
“It’s a great idea,” said Dan. “Arjun was always feeding people in college. And he’s obsessed with creating new recipes. He once made me these kimchi donuts. I thought they’d be terrible—but they were the best donuts I’ve ever had.”
“Well,” said Nisha, patting Arjun on the arm, “I’ll be your taste tester anytime you need me.”
Arjun chuckled. “You promise?”
She smiled. “Promise.”
Dan and Erica decided to call it a night after a few more drinks, but Arjun felt strangely energized. “Do you want to walk around?” he asked Nisha as Dan and Erica piled into the backseat of their Uber.
“Where to?” The evening cold kissed her cheeks, turning them rose red.
“How about Hayes Valley?” he suggested. “We’re just a short walk away.”
“Sure,” said Nisha. She drew her jacket closer to her body, and Arjun felt the sudden impulse to wrap his arm around her. Strictly platonic , he reminded himself.
They walked on, down an empty stretch of Market Street. The night swirled inky blue around them, and the silvery moonlight glow suffused through the darkness like a watercolor. A tram whooshed past, ghostly green in the darkness. “Hey,” said Nisha, stopping suddenly. The yellow of a streetlamp shone in her hair, giving her a temporary halo.
“What is it?” asked Arjun.
She shuffled her feet. “I just wanted to say…thanks.”
“Thanks?” he asked. “What for?”
Nisha shrugged. “When I moved to SF, I was lonely for a long time. Now, though…I’m not so lonely anymore. I know I joke about it, but I’m really happy I met you.”
For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. “I’m happy I met you, too,” he told her, finally. “I don’t find it easy to open up to people, but with you…well, I’m glad I can.”
The streets narrowed. Hayes Valley was usually a bustling neighborhood, but at this hour, all of the shops along the avenues were shuttered and darkened.
Arjun stopped in front of one of the buildings. “This is it,” he said.
“What am I looking at?” Nisha asked. She was shivering slightly, and suddenly, she grabbed Arjun’s arm and held it tightly against her body.
“This storefront has been empty for a few months now,” said Arjun. “It’s the place I’d put my restaurant, if I ever worked up the nerve to put in an offer.”
“So why not do it?” she asked.
“What if I start my restaurant and it fails? Ideas are safe, you know. But reality…reality is hard.”
She laughed. “You know, I got a good piece of advice this morning: ‘Just focus on making something —and worry about making it perfect later.’”
Arjun chuckled softly.
“Sometimes,” said Nisha, “you just have to go for it.”
Her eyes locked with his. The green of her irises drank in the light of the full moon, and a wisp of hair drifted across her face. Arjun could feel himself turning toward her; subtly, her body moved, too. Her hand pressed against his chest, the steady beat of his heart pounding against her fingers.
And then she was drifting toward him, and he toward her. He caressed her chin with his fingers, drawing her close.
Their lips pulsed together like ocean waves.
There was a firework exploding in Arjun’s chest: a ball of heat enveloping him and Nisha, consuming their bodies, the entire street, the entire world.
They pulled apart. Nisha was looking at him, an expectant look in her eyes. Arjun swallowed hard, and the clarity overtook him. Oh, no, he thought.