‘What?’ he says.
‘Remember the arcade? It’s open again,’ she says, pointing to a flashing, neon-lit entrance a few stores down. ‘We should totally go.’
Raghav’s go-to thing is to say no, so he says, ‘Aren’t you too old for it?’
‘Uh, you’re too old for it,’ she says.
This is our exit. I breathe a little easy.
‘Actually, no one’s too old for it,’ says Kunal in a stupid, stupid move. ‘We should all go.’
‘I’m not sure—’ I start.
But Shilpi swiftly cuts me. ‘It will be fun, unless being in your twenties is code for being old now?’
‘Maybe for them,’ says Kunal. ‘I’m game.’
And then trapped by Kunal’s and Shilpi’s needless enthusiasm, we end up there.
Raghav’s lightness is gone, and I’m to blame. I wonder if he would have continued in the lighter vein through the day had I not been here. Am I nothing more than the reminder of what happened? Is he nothing more to me? Is that why I don’t want him to encroach on the little happiness I have carved for myself if he doesn’t want to share but shame it?
The arcade is noisy and surprisingly enough brings an immediate sense of joy. Shilpi quickly drags us to a frantic game of doubles air hockey. The puck flies back and forth. Kunal is a good sport, letting Shilpi score some easy points, and I find Raghav slip into his easy way again as he high-fives her. This is how life could look like. There’s space for happiness too. It can slip through the cracks and he should let it; I should let it.
Then, Kunal drags me to a racing game. I narrowly beat him twice. I keep telling him he plays too safe and he keeps insisting on one more, and one more, and one more. And finally when he does win, he pumps his fist, then shouts out loud and suddenly takes me in his arms playfully. I can wrest myself free, it’s light enough, but I let his hands rest on me. The moment stretches, and by now, he knows I’m allowing this to happen.
It’s warm and sends tingles down my back. But it’s too much, it’s too much.
As I’m trying to wiggle myself free, I glance over and see Raghav leaning against a fighting game, his arms crossed, the familiar frown back. He looks away when our eyes meet, and allthe happiness drains out of my eyes and my body. As he walks away, even with his eyes not on me, I feel a heavy judgement.
When did I give so much power to him? Why can’t I be happy for a moment without his words, his face popping up in my mind? Do I not judge myself enough? Do I not punish myself enough? I try not to look at him as we bounce around from one game to another. It takes a lot of effort and in the end, I think I’m more angry than anything. I feel irritation seep into my very bones and I can’t wait to get out of here. A sense of relief washes over me when our cards run out of money and thankfully we decide that we have had enough.
Later, Shilpi and I go to the washroom. As I’m washing my hands, she leans against the counter and her eyes meet mine. She wants to say something, so I nod and give her permission to.
‘Kunal is pretty chill,’ she says with a broad smile on her face. So teenager-y, but also so appropriate. That’s the kind of the smile one sees when something like this is mentioned.
‘Yeah, he is,’ I agree.
‘Very tall,’ she says.
‘Yes.’
‘Like legit tall, tall.’
‘Yep, that’s true.’
‘Kinda too tall for you.’
‘Are you saying I’m short?’
She hesitates, then says, ‘He’s not Bhaiya’s vibe though. Doesn’t like him.’
I dry my hands, my movements slow and deliberate. ‘Your brother doesn’t like much of anything these days. I don’t know if you have noticed.’
‘Trauma, but you know that already, Didi,’ she says. And then her voice drops to a whisper. ‘Or maybe Bhaiya is low-key in love with you.’
The words, so naive and so wrong, hit me with a wave of surprise. What? Raghav? In love with me? It’s a ridiculous thought, something only a teenager who sees the world in black-and-white terms of love and hate could come up with. I can’t really blame her. There are others who have said the same thing. Even Tejal, who knows me as well as I know myself.
And yet... the observation stings because it holds a sliver of a different kind of truth. Shilpi is young. She doesn’t understand the tangled, ugly mess of our grief. She sees his intense focus on me, his jealousy of Kunal and calls it love because that’s the only word she has for an emotion that intense.
