Chapter 19
The waiter arrives, and after he takes our order, the conversation thankfully shifts to things other than me and Aashiq. The food comes shortly after, and as I swirl some pasta onto my fork, and while the other women are talking, I lean to the left to hear the guys’ conversation.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Eugene says to Colin.
“Come on, why not?” Colin pushes. “Lots of people work on New Year’s Day. A new year means we should be getting a head start on things.”
“It’s just…people are going to be sluggish and tired after New Year’s Eve,” Eugene points out. “They deserve a day to recover. I know I’m going to need it. My wife always hosts a New Year’s party, and I help her clean up the next day.”
“That’s your problem, though, not mine,” Colin retorts. “We need to be more efficient in our work. And your wife can certainly handle the cleanup on her own.” He nudges Aashiq in the elbow. “Don’t you think it’s a good idea, Aashiq?”
Aashiq’s gaze flickers between the two men, then he squares his shoulders. “I… I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” he offers. “But what do I know? I’m just shadowing Ziya. I don’t have a big role in the office.”
“At least you’re aligning yourself with the right people, son.
” Colin guffaws as he claps Aashiq on the back.
Aashiq winces at the contact but tries his best to keep a grin on his face.
Something’s odd about it, though. Aashiq’s smiles have always been gleeful, gentle, or wide. They’ve never been…stiff.
Eventually the conversation on the guys’ side of the table merges with ours, and I find myself learning so much.
At first, it seemed like Eugene and Colin only wanted to talk about work, but Faye manages to get Eugene to open up about his college days, which leads to Colin telling us about his own law school experience.
I even find myself talking about my experiences in school—of course, as a homebody, I don’t have the same crazy stories the rest of them do, but they all seem genuinely interested in what I have to say.
As the night progresses, the others start to get drunk, and Stella and Sofia manage to pull me to the stage for a few rounds of karaoke. I say “pull,” but I’m not exactly resisting. I don’t know what it is, but these past few weeks have invigorated me in a way I didn’t know was possible.
It’s halfway through my rendition of “Style” (Taylor’s Version) that I realize what’s made all the difference.
I lock eyes with Aashiq, who’s sitting at the table with the other guys.
Even though there’s still something off with his vibe, he has a huge smile on his face as he watches me onstage.
The difference is him. He’s the one who has shown me it’s much more fun to live life in the spotlight than on the sidelines.
Before him, I never would have become friends with my coworkers.
I never would have found the confidence to do karaoke in front of anyone other than Emily.
He’s changing me, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why I was so resistant to the idea.
We do a few more songs before the others decide to hit another bar. That’s when I tap out. I grab my coat and my purse, then head over to Aashiq. “Hey, you ready to go?”
He lifts his head and blinks a couple of times. “Yeah, sure,” he says absentmindedly, then he puts on his own jacket and nods his head toward the exit.
We bid everyone goodbye, then step outside.
It certainly is December, because a biting breeze sinks into my cheeks the second we’re outside.
I shiver, then instinctively move to the right to absorb some of Aashiq’s warmth, but I just meet more air.
My frown deepens, and I look ahead to see Aashiq’s hunched back walking way ahead of me.
Oh, no. Is he upset again? I didn’t say or do anything mean this time. I quicken my pace to catch up, then tap him on the shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I didn’t have fun tonight,” he reveals, his words short and frank.
“You didn’t?” I question. “But I thought you loved karaoke.”
“I do ,” he stresses. “But I didn’t get to sing.”
“You could’ve joined one of my songs,” I tell him. “I would have had such a great time with you.”
“Colin and Eugene didn’t sing, so I didn’t, either,” Aashiq grumps.
He scrunches his nose in distaste. “You said to act like them, so I did what they did. They talked about finances. They talked about golfing and their cars. They even talked a bit about their own families. And they didn’t go up for karaoke.
I did what they did, even though I didn’t know about finances or golf or cars, and I don’t even have a family.
And I really wanted to go up for karaoke. ”
Guilt lines my throat. “Oh, Aashiq,” I breathe. “About that, I—”
“I don’t like how I acted today.” His hands linger at his sides instead of in his pockets, and red tinges his skin. “You asked me to do it, so I did it, but I didn’t like it.”
I stay quiet, because it sounds like there’s more he wants to say.
We walk in silence for another minute or so before he speaks again.
“The longer I’ve been out in the real world, the more I’ve started to realize that sometimes being a person means you have to behave in ways you don’t want to.
Maybe you have to be nice to someone you don’t like.
Maybe you have to skip out on a gathering because you have to work.
And maybe you have to present yourself to others in a way that makes you feel wrong.
” He raises his chin. “I don’t like how I acted today.
” He turns to me, and pain flickers in his eyes. “Why do humans act like that?”
My face warms, and I huff out a long sigh. “Most of the time it’s to appease other people and not make things awkward,” I reply.
“But then what’s the point?” he asks. He tilts his head back up, his gaze on the sky above us. “What’s the point of any of this? If you can’t be who you are all the time, where’s the fun in being a person?”
“I guess…all of that is part of being a person,” I muse.
I follow his line of sight. It’s extremely difficult to see real stars with all the smog and light pollution, but they’re still there, and that’s what matters.
“Figuring out who you are or who you want to be doesn’t just stop.
You’re always discovering new likes and dislikes.
And part of that is deciding how you want others to perceive you, even if it’s not who you actually are.
Which, I guess, is pretty messed up.” I regard Aashiq, whose focus is still on the sky.
Stella said Aashiq looks at me like I’ve got the stars in my eyes, but the real stars are in his.
The real glow comes from how he interacts with the world.
From his joy, his excitement. His discovery of who he wants to be. And I dimmed those stars tonight.
“Sometimes you do have to act in ways you don’t want, but this wasn’t one of those times,” I tell him, which finally prompts him to turn to me again. “I’m sorry for asking you to pretend to be someone you’re not. And I won’t ask you to do it again.”
The ease returns to his face. “Thank you.” He jerks his chin forward.
“Can we please go home now? My shoulders hurt from acting so stiff all night. How do Eugene and Colin do it? It’s like they’re walking around with someone pressing something into their back. I mean, good posture is important but—”
He keeps rambling all the way back to the apartment, but I don’t interrupt him even once.