The Smart Phone Rebellion

Rebel without a cause.

That’s what some people think I am. That I have a need to rebel against anything and everything, just for the heck of it. And so goes the story with smart phones.

That’s not exactly true.

Which part, you might ask?

Well, all of it.

I mean, I am a rebel, yes, but I don’t think anyone rebels without a cause. There’s always a reason. We just may not do a good job of articulating it, nor feel the need to do so. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a reason. You just need to dig deep enough.

Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, my rebellion doesn’t actually apply to smart phones. I rebel against things I don’t like. I have nothing against smart phones. If anything, I think they’re quite fabulous.

Okay, all those of you shouting LIAR!!! – calm down. Let me explain.

It’s like crème brulee [you know, that fancy French dessert with a million accents on the words]. Well, I had never tasted one. And that was fine. But then one day, in my final year of undergrad, I made the mistake of going along with a friend to a fancy wine and cheese party where I knew no one, and had little else to do other than try out their fancy desserts. And that was when I tried it. And Oh. My. God. It was the best thing I had ever tasted.

From that day on, I developed a craving for crème brulee that I could not suppress for several months to come.

You get what I’m saying?

Okay, so maybe crème brulee isn’t the best analogy for a smart phone. Let me try again. No food this time.

Facebook. Now that’s a simpler and more relatable example for many, I’m assuming.

Let me say this straight up: I’m addicted to Facebook. And I’m well aware of that addiction. With most of my friends living in a physical proximity that makes it difficult to meet on a daily basis [or a yearly basis, for that matter], Facebook to me is the easiest way to stay in touch with people. [Of course, along with the world of virtual communication comes the world of virtual narcissism, but that’s a discussion for another post].

The point is, I joined Facebook in my early undergrad days, when the novelty excited me. Today, I’m hooked on to it, and I can’t unhook myself. Often, I find myself spending more time on my laptop than talking to people, and that’s scary.

And that’s exactly why I don’t want to get a smart phone.

Think about it. Probably 80% of my family and friends live in different cities and countries from me. And if I spent most of time whatsapping them or bbming them or vibering them [is that a word???], I’d have little time left for the people who are physically present in my life. And I know it’s a matter of choice in the end, but I’ve seen from my experience of Facebook what happens to my will power and choice when I’m put in front of social media.

So you see the problem? If I ever do get a smart phone, I know I will get addicted to it faster than Facebook and crème brulee [okay, maybe the last one is a stretch]. And once I do, I can completely see myself joining the hordes of people sitting across each other and texting away on their phones the whole time.

Somehow, I’m just not ready to go there yet, because I know there’s no coming back from that point.

To summarize, I’m not rebelling against smart phones because I think they’re bad. I’m running away from them with everything I’ve got, because I think they’re bloody brilliant. And it's not easy. Imagine me running away from a platter full of creme brulee, only a million times better. It’s a battle of will powers. And it’s a lost battle, I know that. One day, soon enough, my will power is going to break down, and I am going to give in to the dark side of the force.

But until then, I’m going to keep running.

Goodbye December

Heads up: this post is rather senti. Ye have been warned.  

Well, the wedding is over. This month of masti and compete madness is over. And all of a sudden, I’m not sure what to do anymore.

For the last one and a half years, the wedding has been the destination that all our plans had been geared towards. The month before, I was juggling assignments and shopping and exams and dance practice. The month before, I had no time to think. I was fed up with the wedding even before it had started, to the point where I threatened my brother to make sure he never gets married again.

And then December came. And with it came Ahmedabad. And Bangalore. And Kuwait. And non-stop crazy fun. A chance to meet up with old family and friends. A chance to spend time with new family and friends. Of running around. Of dancing. Of smiling. Of eating. Of celebrating. And of being chased by camels. It really was a month like no other. I didn’t want it to end. Ever.

But it passed by in a blur. For a month that had been under planning for over a year, these last few days have whizzed by. And the whole time, even though I was enjoying every second of it, I kept having this nagging sinking feeling that it was going to end soon. And it did.

Last night.

G, S and A have left from Kuwait [wait – can I call you three GAS for short?]. And with them, I feel like a big chunk of my family has left. And considering that they live in Canada, I probably won’t be seeing them for a long time now. All I can do is sit here on my bed, feel mopey and write about it.

But the weird thing is, I’m not sure why this is hitting me so hard. I consider myself a master of goodbyes. I’ve said bye to so many people and moved to so many places, that I assumed I was over it all. But thinking back, I think the difference is that all those times, I was the one packing my bags and leaving. This was the first time that I found myself staying in the same place as someone else waved goodbye to me at the airport. This was the first time I had been on the receiving end of the farewell, and not the giving. That’s probably why this was the first time that it actually hit me so hard.

Watching G & S make their way to the security check last night as we stepped to the side, I think I actually got a little choked up. [Of course, I would rather lock myself in a bird cage than break down in public. Actually, that’s a tough choice. Never mind.] In any case, I could feel all the excitement and memories of this last one month crashing down around me as I realized that this had all just come to an end. I knew this was coming. And I hadn’t wanted this end to come. I’ve never thought of myself as the sentimental type, but in that moment all the Karan Johar emotions were wreaking a big mess through me. That was, until the security sent them back to the check-in counter for over-weight baggage and whatnot, so by the time they took their second walk down the security aisle, I was sleepy and tired and like “go already.”

And they did. So now it’s time for life to go back to normal.

I’ve never been a big fan of normal.

2014, you have big shoes to live up to. 

Instant Coffee

An attempt at fiction writing...

It was cold; freezing, actually. But the tremors running through his body, and the numbness slowly claiming his senses, had nothing to do with the four-feet of snow around him. He didn’t notice that his warm winter jacket that normally comforted his shoulders was missing. He didn’t notice the odd looks he received from the few stragglers passing by him on that deserted road. He noticed nothing, except that his heart was beating far too rapidly and his hands were shaking incessantly.

Struggling to hold his cell phone firmly in place as he chose a name from the speed dial list, he waited as the ringing seemed to go on forever. Pick up, pick up. Please pick up. Finally, he was rewarded with a very sleepy hello.

“I’m coming over,” was all he said, before hanging up. He knew she would be mad, but right then, he couldn’t care less. He needed that bloody Indian.

**********

“A small coffee, please.”

“That’ll be a tooney,” said the voice behind the counter.

Looking quizzically at the coins in her hand, she started counting through them. ‘Dimes, nickels, quarters…ugh, why don’t they have any 50-cent coins?! Buying a cup of coffee was so much simpler back home.’ Thoughts of sitting with a group of friends at the local chai stall and drinking delicious milky coffee filled her mind.

“Excuse me! I said that would be a tooney!” the voice behind the counter repeated, sounding a little annoyed, jarring her out of her reverie.

‘Tooney…tooney…what the hell is a bloody tooney?!’ she thought, feeling the clamminess of discomfort crawling up her chest, and those now-oh-so-familiar beads of sweat starting to form. ‘Somebody please remind me what the hell I’m doing in this bloody country?!’

Just as the lady opened her mouth to clearly express her frustration, a calm and mildly-amused voice said from behind, “She means two dollars.”

Whirling around, she came face to face with a boy who looked like a fellow college student, an expression of amusement and understanding evident on his face.

“Oh, thanks,” she muttered, fumbling around with the change in her hand and placing the correct coins in the woman’s hand, trying to avoid her glare. She took her coffee cup and moved towards the milk counter, pouring skimmed milk into her already-full cup. Next, she proceeded to open a packet of sugar and pour its contents inside. Then another. And another.

“Let me guess – you’re new in Canada.”

Looking to her right, she saw the same guy standing with his own cup of coffee at the counter, eyeing the fourth sugar packet in her hand.

“That obvious, huh?” she said, laughing embarrassedly as she put the sugar sachet back in its place.

Laughing, he said “Don’t worry about it. I was exactly like that last year when I came to Toronto. I couldn’t stand the coffee here – it was so bitter!”

“Exactly! Oh thank god, I feel like less of an idiot now,” she said, relaxing slightly.

He leaned in conspiratorially, and whispered “I’ll give you a tip – next time, ask them to give you a small coffee in a large cup. That way, you can add more milk, and it doesn’t taste as bitter.”

Laughing incredulously at the suggestion, she said “We can do that?! Shit…that’s awesome! Thanks!”

Grinning at her excited expression, he added, “It gets better. Trust me.” As he made his way towards the door, he asked as an afterthought, “By the way, where are you from?”

“India,” she replied easily, taking in his skin colour and feeling much more at ease. “You too?”

“Nah…I’m from Pakistan.”

***********

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to fucking kill him!” she muttered, over and over again, as she tossed around on her bed. It had been a crazy day at work, and she hadn’t gotten to bed until 1 am. Struggling to keep her eyes open, she let out a string of curses at the person who was supposedly on his way over. There was no point going back to sleep. Knowing him, he could be all the way over at his own place right now, or already under her door. As if on cue, her phone started ringing once again. She pressed a button, not bothering to speak, and heard as the familiar beep of the buzzer signalled that the main door had been opened.

Pushing the covers off, she fumbled over the mattress, landing sloppily on the floor. The carpet felt warm under her feet, although it couldn’t make up for the loss of the blanket. This had better be a life or death situation, she thought to herself as she made her way to the hall. I swear I’m going to kill him if he’s come here for food.

***********

Rubbing her eyes sleepily, she opened the front door to find him hopping from one foot to another.

“I need to pee,” was all he said before barging in through the door. He paused for a total of two seconds to take off his snow-covered boots (thank god, or she would have throttled him), and then ran for the bathroom.

As she waited for him to come out, she walked into the kitchen and put some water in the kettle to boil. Next, she took out a coffee sachet from the cabinet and poured it into a cup.

“What’re you making?”

She looked over her should to see him standing behind her, looking much calmer than he had at the door.

“Coffee,” she answered, gesturing at the empty packet.

“Oh, is this one of those instant ones?” he asked excitedly, with the look of a child discovering ice-cream.

She nodded, pulling out another sachet from the cabinet and putting the coffee into a second cup. Smiling gratefully at her, he asked “Where did you get these? I haven’t seen them at Walmart.”

“Yea, I got them from home. My suitcase is usually filled with these. For some reason I can’t find these 3-in-1 coffee packets anywhere around here. And I really need them, because I can never get the milk-water-coffee proportions right when I try to make it myself.”

He laughed out at the thought. “What? No aloo ka parathas from back home?”

“Of course there are aloo ka parathas! If they ever stopped me at customs, you’d find a whole bunch of airport guards filling their stomachs with parathas and instant coffee,” she added, laughing.

“How do you manage to fit all that stuff? I never have any space in my bags,” he asked, pouring the hot water into the cups.

“Simple. I just take out the clothes,” she shrugged, sticking out her tongue at him.

Warming his hands with the hot cup, he muttered, “Sometimes you’re more of a guy than me.”

“So anyway, why are you here? I mean, apart from needing to pee?”

“I’m hungry.”

They stared at each other for a while, one trying to look annoyed and the other endearing.

“You really want me to cook for you? After that last disaster?”

“Ehh…no. I don’t have a death wish. You want to go out, or should I just raid your fridge?”

Signalling the papers lying on the table that she had been working on, she motioned to the fridge, “Go ahead.”

He moved to open the fridge, and glancing inside, let out a soft whistle. “Whoa! This fridge is stocked! Now I definitely know where I’m coming whenever I’m hungry.”

************

He didn’t remember the walk to her apartment. He had no memory of pressing her buzzer, and absolutely none of the journey up her elevator and to her front door. But there was no way he would forget the look on her face when she opened the door. His subconscious registered the change on her visage from anger to shock within seconds, but in that moment, he had no energy left in him to even acknowledge that change.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, taking in his bloodshot eyes, swollen from the tears that refused to flow out any longer.

He just stood there, unable to move, incapable of speech. Gently taking his arms, she steered him towards the table and helped him sit on one of the chairs. Next, she turned up the heating in the house to a point where she knew it would get suffocating, but his shivering body had genuinely scared her. He was just staring at his hands, as though wondering whether it was even worth it to try and get the words out.

**********

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

He looked up from the book he was reading, surprised to see her looking a little apprehensive. Putting the book down, he leaned forward on the table. “Yea, what’s up?”

“So we’ve been really good friends for a while, and I’ve been meaning to ask you this, but I wasn’t sure if I should because I don’t want things to get awkward and all, but I feel like I really need to know the answer,” she said in a single breath.

“Whoa! What’s going on?” he asked, feeling a little apprehensive himself, wondering for a brief moment if he was about to hear some crazy declaration of love.

“Are you gay?”

He stared at her in silence. His expression showed that this was clearly not the question he was expecting, but mixed in with the incredulity seemed to be a bit of relief as well.

“Why do you ask?” he said eventually, and she felt herself relax a little. At least there wasn’t any angry outburst.

“Just curious.”

He looked at her seriously for a few seconds, as though searching for something in her gaze, and she tried her best not to hide anything in her expression.

“Yea, I am,” he said eventually.

She closed her eyes and let out the deep breath that she had been holding in. “Oh thank god! This would have been such an awkward conversation otherwise!” she said, and he burst out laughing.

“That’s your only reaction?!” he laughed out, relaxing visibly himself.

She opened her eyes to look directly at him. “Well, what do you want me to say? I mean, you’re Muslim. You’re Pakistani. And you’re gay. You’re basically screwed, dude,” she said in the most matter-of-fact tone she could muster, as they both doubled over in laughter, ignoring the curious gazes of the other customers at the coffee shop.

************

“I’m going to make some coffee, yea?” she said, moving towards the kitchen and putting some water in the kettle. Opening the cabinet, she pulled out the last two sachets left, noting absentmindedly that normally they would have been worth a wrestling match between them.

Looking over her shoulders, she noticed that he had barely moved. He seemed fine, physically. At least on the surface. She had never seen him like this before. Has something happened to his family? She racked her brain, trying to remember if there had been any recent bombings in Karachi. While he was one of the happiest persons she had ever met, she knew that a part of him lived in constant worry over his family and the escalating violence back home. But home…that was a place they both knew he would not return to anytime soon.

The whistling of the kettle pulled her out of the memories, and she poured the water into the mugs. If this coffee doesn’t pull him out of this silence, then I’ll definitely have to call 911, she joked inwardly. Setting the two mugs on the table, she pulled herself on to the chair opposite him. He smiled weakly as a gesture of thanks, and took the mug in his hands. Okay, at least he’s alive.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, taking sips of their coffee, staring in different directions. She didn’t push him. She knew he would talk when he was ready. He always did.

**********

They walked in silence at the park. It was obvious that he wanted to talk about something, but she thought it would be better to wait than to press him. She calmly sipped the iced cappuccino in her hand, trying to reduce the blistering effects of the hot sun.

“I’m thinking of telling people.”

He stopped walking, looking questioningly at her face, waiting anxiously for a response. He didn’t get one immediately.

She continued to walk slowly along the path, bending down occasionally to pick up a wrapper or tissue. She didn’t seem to be thinking too much about her actions, her mind already preoccupied by his statement.

“By people, you mean, everyone?” she asked.

“Well, I don’t mean I’m going to post it on Facebook or make some sort of declaration. I’m just, really tired of hiding…and pretending.” He looked like he desperately needed for her to understand the reasons behind this decision, as though the decision itself depended on it.

Pausing by a trash can to dispose the contents in her hand, she looked up to meet his gaze directly. “Look, you don’t have to justify this to me. If anything, I can’t believe you’ve waited this long. And if anyone wants to judge, well, let them. At least this way you’ll find out who are the people that genuinely care about you.”

Eyes shining from a mixture of hope and relief, he asked “So you think I should do it?”

“I’d say it’s about bloody time.”

**********  

“Thanks,” he said, pulling her out of her day dream. That familiar half-smile on her face clearly meant that she had been lost in some old memories.

“Any time,” she said, smiling back. “Although I suppose you already knew that, considering you showed up here at 3 am. “

He chuckled softly, and saw her face fill with a sense of relief. They sat there, smiling quietly at each other for a few seconds. He could feel the warmth of the coffee seeping through him, and the familiar smell of caffeine slowly brought his senses back to life. Just sitting there with the hot cup in his hands, he could feel his thoughts returning back to him.

“Want to talk about it?”

His smile dropped instantly, as the question brought with it a crashing sense of reality. He wanted to tell her, but didn’t know where to begin. Or maybe he was just afraid of her reaction, afraid that she might judge him, which was stupid, considering she was privy to more details about his life than anyone else, and so far, she had never judged him.

***********

“You’re such a playboy, you know that, right?”

 He raised his eyebrows at her as he passed her a cup of coffee. They were sitting on his sofa, and he had just finished describing a rather interesting date he had had the previous night.

“Because I have sex? Seriously?”

“No, because you have sex with a different person every week,” she said pointedly, challenging him to disagree.

“…maybe every other week,” he said slowly, grinning sheepishly.

“Are you afraid of falling in love again?” she asked. “After…you know?” she added gently, trying to avoid hurting him with old memories.

“I don’t know. Sometimes, it’s just easier this way. I don’t have to get attached, and I’m happy,” he said, looking deep in thought. “And the other guy is definitely happy,” he added after a few seconds, grinning, as she scrunched up her face in disgust.

Laughing, he said “Just…think of it as…community service. I’m providing a service by catering to the needs of other men!”

“You call sleeping around with random guys community service?!” she said, laughing out loud. “You realize that’s basically prostitution for free, na?”

“Are you calling me a prostitute?!” he said, throwing a cushion at her face.

“Shit!” she screamed, jumping from the sofa as the hot coffee spilled all over hand. “Ugh, dude, look what you did!”

“Sorry,” he said, looking more apologetic at the waste of coffee than her burnt hand. “You called me a prostitute,” he added, by way of explanation.

She stopped cleaning and looked up. “You know I was joking, right? I don’t care who you sleep with, as long as you’re happy.”

He smiled knowingly at her, and helped clean up the sofa while she went to wash her hands.

As she walked back into the room, he asked casually, “So do you want to come to the beach this weekend?”

Scrunching her eyebrows in confusion, she asked “Which beach?”

“The one at Centre Island,” he clarified.

She paused in her attempt to reach for his cup of coffee. “You mean the gay beach?”

He shrugged. “Yea, but it’s open to everyone.”

She ploughed on. “You mean the nude, gay beach?”

He shrugged again, although his lips were shaking with the effort to remain stiff. “Well, you can keep wearing your clothes if you like. We don’t discriminate, you see.”

Before he could add another word, he found himself drenched with his own lukewarm coffee.

***********

“Well,” he started hesitantly. “You know I had a date with Ron last night, right?”

“That guy you met at the bike rally?” she asked, wondering where the conversation was going.

He nodded, but didn’t explain further. Not wanting to wait now that he had finally started talking, she asked, “Let me guess. Community service?”

He nodded again, and the distinct lack of smile on his face at the mention of their favourite joke was a sure sign of the seriousness of the situation.

“So what’s the problem?”

“The condom tore.”

She sat silently for a moment, letting his words sink in, before bursting out. “Shit! Fuck! Are you pregnant?! Is he? Oh, wait. What am I saying?! You can’t be pregnant. Shit. I mean, that’s good. But wait, then what’s the problem? How does the condom tearing affect you? Oh, right, STDs. But you’re clean, right? Oh god, did you have syphilis? Or gonorrhoea? Or one of those other creepy diseases? I heard they can be really – ”

“Ron has HIV.”

He thought he had whispered the words, but apparently, they had been loud enough to cut through her tirade. She shut up. Completely. Eyes wide-open, mouth gaping, no sound escaping. Not an expression he normally found on her face. He mentally started counting the seconds of silence, waiting for the explosion that he knew was coming.

“What? Are you sure?” she whispered.

He nodded slowly. Then the explosion came.

“And he never told you?! I can’t believe it! How could he do something like that?! That’s disgus- ” she cut off at the expression on his face, and slowly realization dawned in her eyes.

“You knew? You knew the entire time?!” she half-screamed, anger and astonishment raising her voice by several octaves.

He nodded slowly again, cringing slightly at the shrill sound. “Yea. He told me the first day we met.”

“And you never told me?! Okay, never mind. That part’s not important. What the hell were you thinking sleeping with someone who has HIV?! I mean, you of all people, should know the dangers. You’ve volunteered at enough organisations, and conducted enough sessions on safe-sex for every bloody person around you. I mean, seriously, what the hell were you thinking?!”

“I don’t know yaar. I guess I wasn’t thinking,” he said, closing his eyes, picturing the scene that had been replaying in his mind all night. The horror of the torn condom and the gravity of the situation had sunk in simultaneously. “I just really wanted to be with him.”

He opened his eyes to look at her, and found that the anger was fading from her eyes, and was slowly being replaced by that calmness he loved to look at.

She sat quietly for a few seconds, before venturing to ask a question hesitantly. “Do you regret it?”

**********

“So, do you regret it?” she asked casually, as they made their way along the snacks aisle of the supermarket.

“What? Coming out?” he asked, as he leaned over to pick up a box of Chocos.

“Well, yea. I mean, now that everyone knows, it can’t be easy. How are your parents taking it?” she asked, picking up another box for herself.

“Surprisingly well. I guess at some level they always suspected it. As long as they don’t need to deal with it on a constant basis, I think they’re going to be okay with having a gay son,” he said, as they turned into the next aisle.

“And what about your old college friends here? Any change in their behaviour?” She picked up some chocolate biscuits and dumped them in the cart.

“You mean apart from the fact that there’s been no contact whatsoever?” he said, pulling open one of the biscuit packets and shoving one in his mouth. “I suppose it could have been worse. They could have made my life hell. In a way, they’re making things easier for me by just ignoring me. It’s just going to be a little uncomfortable running into them at the mosque next month.”

“Yea, I can imagine that would be – ” she stopped short, frozen on her spot. Giving her a quizzical look, he looked in the direction that she was staring, and stopped himself.

“No way!” he exclaimed, making his way past the different coffee flavours placed on the shelf towards a bright red box. He picked it up gently, cradling it in his hands, and turned to see her eyes shining excitedly.

“It’s 3-in-1 coffee!” she screamed, looking as though she had found a lost love. “I can’t believe the stores here are finally keeping it!”

“You realize what this means?” he asked excitedly, shoving two boxes in each cart.

“That you can finally stop stealing my coffee?” she asked innocently.

“No, loser. It means that you can finally buy some new clothes next time you go to India!”

**********

Closing his eyes again, he put his head down on the table, cradling it in his arms. “Do I regret it? I don’t know…I really don’t. It was just so amazing…I…I don’t know.”

“You really like him, don’t you?” she asked softly, wondering if he had fallen as badly as it seemed. She hoped not, for his sake.  

“Honestly, at this point I’m too scared to think about that,” he said, raising his head slightly to look at her.

She nodded in understanding. “You want me to come with you to the doctor tomorrow?”

He smiled gratefully. “Thanks. But there’s not much that’s going to happen tomorrow. He’s just going to prescribe a medication to minimize the chances, which I’ll have to take for three weeks. They’ll only test me after that.”

She nodded, looking at him to see that the irony of the situation wasn’t lost on either of them.

He knew the procedure. He knew the procedure all too well.

*********

As the cheers of the crowd continued to create a resounding din, she pushed her way out of the audience and towards the backstage, eyes searching only for one person. He was easy to find, surrounded by other performers, unable to keep the large smile off his face as he was congratulated by everyone around. Spotting her, he ran towards her and lifted her in the air, their laughter echoing together in the excitement of the moment.

“That was a brilliant performance!” she exclaimed as he finally set her down. “I had no idea you could dance like that!”

“I’ve loved dancing ever since I was a kid! I just didn’t have a chance to pursue it properly until recently,” he said, eyes shining brightly. He started steering her towards the exit.

“Aren’t you going to shower?” she asked, scrunching her face.

“I need to get to Sherbourne station in half an hour. I’m conducting a workshop on safe-sex near there,” he said, walking quickly towards the busy road. “Besides, there’s a really cute guy there I want to show you,” he added as an afterthought.

Laughing, she quickened her pace alongside him. “Fine, but you’re buying me coffee on the way.”

They walked along in silence for a block, before he finally spoke up. “What’s on your mind?”

Seeing the quizzical look on her face, he added, “You have that look where you’re obviously thinking about something, and want to talk about it, but you’re just not sure how.”

“It’s creepy how well you know me sometimes,” she said, laughing at his description. “It’s just…I’m amazed by you! You’re volunteering, you’re conducting workshops, you’re fundraising for people with AIDS by cycling all the way to bloody Montreal, you’re sketching, you’re dancing, and you’re always so happy when I see you! What are you doing, yaar?”

Smiling broadly at her words, he tightened his hold on her arms and leaned in to whisper, “I’m finally living.”

*********

“What if I’m positive?” he whispered, finally saying aloud the words that had been haunting him all night.

The shock had set in the moment he had seen the torn condom, quickly followed by panic. “I didn’t even stop for a moment to talk to him,” he started explaining. “I just pulled on my clothes and ran out of his house. I left my coat and everything there. He didn’t stop me, but just stood there, looking so guilty that I almost wanted to stop there and comfort him. Can you imagine that? Me, comforting him? But it’s not like it’s his fault. I knew the risk was there when I asked him out on the date. It’s not like he forced me to do anything.” He paused, giving himself a moment for the image of Ron’s guilty face to pass over. 

“Anyways, then I just started walking around on the street. I don’t think I had any clue where I was going. My mind was just frozen. All I could think was – what if I got it? What the hell would happen to me? My life, and all the stuff I had taken for granted. And then I started thinking that this was the life that Ron has been living for the last five years, and how selfish it was for me to just think of myself in this moment. And I just, I don’t know – next thing I knew, I was sitting here, having coffee,” he said, having run out of steam, looking relieved to have let it all out finally. She listened to him quietly, letting him say everything that he needed to.

He sat there, staring hard at his hands. “You know, all those times I was spreading awareness about HIV and telling everyone that positive people are as normal as everyone else, I never thought I’d have to include myself in that category,” he said softly.

She quietly got up from her chair, went over to him and hugged him from behind. They stayed like that for a while.

“What if I’m positive?” he asked again, his voice shaking slightly.

She was silent for a few moments. “Then you’ll have a shorter life, you can make it more meaningful, and you can date Ron without any more worries.”

He chuckled loudly at this, turning around to return the hug properly. “I love you, you know that, right?”

*************

“I love you. You love me. Why don’t we get married?”

She looked up from her unfinished assignment that she had been engrossed in, and raised her eyebrows at him.

“Umm…because you’re gay?”

“Ufff…that’s just a technicality. I mean, think about it. We get along so well with each other and we know exactly what’s going on in each other’s head. Plus – we both love instant coffee. Made for each other, huh?” he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Laughing, she said. “Fine, you got me at the coffee point. How about we get married in ten years?”

“Done!” he exclaimed excitedly, raising his cup to seal the deal. “I think we’re going to have a great marriage, don’t you think?”

“Yea,” she said, connecting her own cup to his. “Until both of us fall for the same guy.”

*************

“Can I stay here tonight?”

His voice was muffled, as his head was still resting against her stomach. She was standing next to his chair, running her hands softly through his hair. Neither one was willing to move, despite the tiredness that was slowly seeping back into their bodies. He needed time, and she knew that.

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to pull himself together, he raised his head and looked at her. “Can I stay here tonight?” he asked again, sounding more like his normal self.

Ruffling his hair, she said “Fine. But only because it’s freezing outside and I don’t want your death to be on my conscience.”

Smiling, he got up from the chair and put an arm over her shoulders, slowly leading the way into the bedroom.

“I feel like we’re a married couple off to bed,” he laughed out.

“Eight more years to go, darling,” she said, smiling broadly.

Without warning, he jumped onto the bed, wrestled with the covers for a while, before poking his head out to give a cheeky grin. “Ahhh…this feels so comfy!”

Rolling her eyes, she inwardly sighed in relief as she made her way to the other side of the bed. She jumped in, pulling the blanket towards her. They spent a few seconds wrestling back and forth before managing to find a comfortable compromise.

“You gonna be okay, na?” she asked, unable to hide the concern under the sleepiness.

He stayed silent for a while, before responding. “Yea, I think so. Not much I can do about it at this point. I’ll just take it as it comes. I’ll start by going to the doctor tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Thanks for being there.”

“I’m always going to be there.”

“Okay, this is getting too cheesy. Now goodnight,” he said abruptly, turning over and pulling the blanket over to his side.

And in the next moment, he felt a strong kick on his ass, and promptly found himself on the ground.

“Good night.”

************
************

Epilogue

She tapped her fingers nervously on the keyboard, pretending to work, though there was no one to convince but herself. Every few seconds, she would glance at her cell phone, silently willing it to ring. He said he’d call as soon as he got it. Why hasn’t he called yet?! What if it’s bad news…what do I say to him?

It shouldn’t have been this difficult. After all, this wasn’t his first test. Still, today, it’s decided, one way or another. Thinking back to the bizarreness of that night when he had shown up without warning at her doorstep, she couldn’t help but feel the finality of this day. Why the bloody hell hasn’t he called?! I swear, if he’s doing this just to….

Her internal rant was cut off by a loud ring. Despite having been waiting for this call, it took her a few seconds to tune in to where the sound was coming from, before she could pounce on her phone.

“What happened?”

“Buzz me in.”

“First tell me what happened!”

“I’m not telling you from down here! Buzz me in, woman!”

“Just tell me will y-” again, her rant was cut off by the sound of the door being opened, followed by a loud beep.

Swearing loudly at her phone, she walked to the main door of her apartment and opened it, peeking out to see if anyone was there. Not yet…Walking back into her apartment, she began pacing across the hall. Hurry up. Hurry up. Hurry up!!!

Somehow, the last six months hadn’t felt as long as these last few minutes. Six months. Sometimes, she still couldn’t believe it had been that long. Six months of testing, medication, wondering, more testing, more medication…and it all came down to today. So far, each test had come up negative. But despite that, there was always a chance of him testing positive even now. If he cleared today’s result, then they could be sure he didn’t have HIV. But if not…

The knock on the door cut off her thoughts. Marching over, she pulled the door open, and for a fleeting moment, was struck by a sense of déjà vu. This is where it had all started. But the man standing before her was a far cry from the broken image of that night. Gone was the fear, the doubt. Slowly, over time, he had come to terms with his situation, and was ready to accept whatever life threw his way.

“Hey,” he said, not feeling the need to expand. That soft smile on his face gave away nothing; it seemed far too strong to be affected by a test result.

Seeing the calmness on his face, she felt her own nervousness sapping out. Moments ago, she had been ready to jump at him with incessant questions, but now, she just shoved her hands inside her pockets, took a deep breath and smiled back.

“Hey.”

They stood there like that for a few seconds, waiting in comfortable silence, until she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“So…?”

“So what?” he asked, shrugging nonchalantly as he sidestepped her and went inside.

Rolling her eyes as she followed him in, she asked “So are you dying any time soon? Or do I actually have to get married to you?”

Laughing, he walked over to her, and whispered into her ear, “Seven a half years to go and you’re all mine. Keep counting!”

Not satisfied with the response, she pulled back and looked at his face. This time she wasn’t met with the calm, accepting smile, but rather, a full-blown grin that could barely contain his excitement.

“Are you serious?” she whispered, eyes wide in disbelief.

Nodding enthusiastically, he said, “Negative.”

Not yet ready to erase the doubts that had plagued her mind for months, she asked hesitantly. “Negative?”

“Negative,” he confirmed.

Standing there, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes, letting out a deep sigh of relief and taking a moment to let the doubts and fear drain out of her. He walked away, giving her the time she needed to process it. It had taken a while for him too, to let it all sink in.

Finally, she opened her eyes and walked over to him. Smiling, he opened his arms for a hug; instead, she punched him hard on the shoulder.

“Ow! What the hell is wrong with you?!” he yelled, thinking, though not for the first time, that she had lost her mind.

“You bloody jerk! You couldn’t call me and tell me that when you got the result?!” she yelled, relief mixing with frustration.

“I wanted to tell you in person!” he half-shouted, massaging his shoulder.

“Like hell you did! You just wanted to make me wait. You couldn’t even tell me that when I buzzed you in?”

“You didn’t buzz me in,” he added, pointedly.

“Whatever. That’s not the point,” she grumbled.

“What is the point?” he asked.

“I’m not sure…” she shrugged, starting to smile sheepishly.

“Freak” he said, before pulling her in for a hug, which, this time she returned with equal enthusiasm as the relief spread through both of them.

“You’re going to be okay…” she whispered.

“I’m going to be okay…” he said, unable to contain his smile.

Pulling back after several seconds, she said, “Okay. Celebration time.”

“Yea?” he asked, following her into the kitchen. “What do you have in mind?”

“Do you really need to ask?” she said, her hand reaching out towards the red box in the cabinet.

***********