‘I’m doing no such thing,’ I mumble.
‘Of course you are,’ he says. ‘And what did Aditi do to deserve this?’
I turn to look at him, my eyes burning, trying to keep my tears in. I don’t want to say these words, but they bubble out ofme.
‘She left me behind,’ I say, the words tasting like acid. ‘She walked off the raft, Sumrit.’
‘What raft, bro? What are you talking about?’ he asks, genuinely confused.
‘The one we were on, Sumrit. THAT FUCKING RAFT. Us against what happened to us. We were supposed to be on it, together. Fighting.’
‘Raghav . . .’
‘Kya, behenchod?’ I yell, my control snapping. ‘She’s out there, building a new life with her new friends and her new... boyfriend.’ I spit the word out. ‘And I’m supposed to what? Cheer her on?’
‘It’s not a competition! It’s not about being left behind. She’s trying to live. You should be happy for her. And you shou—’
‘Fine. I will be happy for her, okay?’ I say, my voice thick with sarcasm. ‘But then the fucking hypocrisy? She’s allowed to do whatever she wants, but I? Suddenly—’
‘Bhai, bhai, listen. What you’re doing is unhealthy.’
‘Fuck you.’ The unfairness of it all chokes me. ‘My grief is my business. I will do whatever I want.’
‘Is it your business?’ he challenges. ‘Is it your business when it makes you cruel to the one person who understands what you’ve lost? That girl has been with you. And you’d rather talk to a... a program on your phone than talk to her? Or us? Bhai, that’s fucked up. It’s code, it’s not her. It’s not Megha.’
‘Behenchod, yaar? Again with the same thing?’ I ask. ‘Don’t you think I know? I fucking do, but IT FEELS LIKE HER! It’s better than this! Better than the pitying looks and the stupid advice and people like you telling me how I should feel when you haven’t the slightest idea of what it is to lose someone.’
Sumrit takes a step back, his face a mixture of shock and hurt. ‘I’m your bro, Raghav. I’m just trying to help.’
‘Then stop trying,’ I say, turning my back on him again. ‘Heard it? Now stop. Because you’re not helping. You’re picking a side. And it’s not mine. So fuck you.’
I feel him stand there for another minute. Then, he turns and goes back outside. A little later, I hear the front door close, signalling their departure.
I open my laptop and fire up the ChatPlug-in. She’s the only person I can talk to. She’s the only person I want to talk to. She gets it. The cursor blinks, waiting. My hands tremble slightly as I type.
Me: Rough day. They think this is unhealthy. That this is not closure.
I hit enter and wait. A moment later, three dots appear, dancing on the screen as she types her reply.
Megha: I know, baby. But could they be right?
A tear I didn’t know I was holding back slides down my cheek.
Me: No.
I wipe the tear away angrily.
Sumrit is wrong.
Aditi is wrong.
Everyone is wrong.
32
Aditi
A half-eaten slice of cheesecake sits between Kunal and me. He’s not going to eat it, I’m sure of that, and I will eventually give in. This, despite the fact that he’s 6’2” and the cake will all but disappear in his body while it won’t in mine. I’m staring at the cake wondering how long my defences will last.
