“Well, my mother reminds me of that every other day so it is only fair if I remind you of that too.”
“Thanks, Aarav. You are such a great friend.”
“That I am. But why did you call me? Is Aisha okay?”
I grunt. He thinks as if I bite her. Outside of bed, I don’t.
“She is A-okay. I am her husband, why won’t she be. I am just on my way to her office and had to kill my time.”
“You are her husband that’s why I am worried. And I am not your side chick.”
“Aw, of course not baby,” I say just to rile him up but it ends up making my insides cringe so much I want to puke. “You are my main chick.”
“You are gross, Reyansh,” he laughs and it makes me too laugh too.
It feels good to even trying to be back to my old self. I feel more at ease, more happy and relaxed like this.
Not only had my stupidity affected my relationship with Aisha, it also affected my bond with my best friend—my only friend. He was just open about complaining about it.
“How is everything going with Aisha?”
I take a turn towards the lane that takes up to her office, slowing down slightly. I think about it longer than intended. How are things between us? Better? Yes. Maybe. But are they better from the surface or from the root? I don’t know about that.
But I keep reminding myself that I have to take baby steps. We don’t need to rush.
“It is going good,” I tell him. “I am taking baby steps towards her. She will take time but I will make sure she can trust me to do so.”
He hums on the other end and I know he has something in his mind that he is not saying.
“I mean,” I take it as a cue to go on. “She did trust me once. You know how big of a man-hater she is—not that I mind, of course. It will be hard, sure, but I am willing to go through anything to save our marriage, our relationship. I don’t even want to picture a life without her. I’m just ashamed it took me so long to get my shit together.”
“Sometimes you need to be hit with blunt force of things to get your shit together, you know what I mean.”
I hum because I know what he means. I am clearly going through it and it is not my favorite thing in the world.
“I know you are probably the last person I should ask for relationship advice,” he says and I scowl. “But how did you get her to even say yes to you in the first place.”
“Why do you ask?”
I was feeling sweet with him for once.
“Answer my question first and if your advice is useful I might let you know.”
Jerk.
“I don’t know, to be honest,” I answer truthfully, parking in front of Aisha’s office. The lights in her office buildings are almost off. Only her floor is shining bright. I actually dislike her over-working herself, but six years with her have taught me to not push her about her working habits. I have to slowly weave my way there if I want her to take some rest but I cannot simply demand her to stop working.
“I mean,” I think, looking outside my window up to her floor where I can figure out her cabin’s windows. “Fuck, I don’t know. I just got really lucky with her. I made sure to let her know I wanted her and only her, that my eyes only looked at her in a crowded place, that she was the only one whose touch I could appreciate, even if it was a small graze of her fingers against my skin. I was just brutally blunt and honest about my intentions with her, and I suppose that worked. Whatever it was, I amgrateful that she let me love her. It is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
“Wow,” he says and I chuckle. “I asked for advice and you went on to give me some poetic shit. Thanks buddy. Now you will never know why I asked for advice.”
“I already knew you weren’t going to tell me in the first place.”
“Damn right, I won’t. I will tell Aisha first.”
“She is my wife, idiot.”
“I know. Don’t shove it in my face.”
