fiction

by nitya Gupta

It started with a bang.

Rishi had just moved into the apartment three weeks ago. There was a dishwasher, washing machine, dryer, and the first month’s rent was free, so he signed the lease immediately and carried in his cardboard boxes to the empty living room. The apartment was much more spacious than what Rishi had imagined for his first place out of college, and after unpacking, he often found himself staring at the blank walls and solitary tan couch in the corner of the living room when he came back from work.

Then, the third Friday after he’d moved in, Rishi heard a noise reverberate through his wall. His bed frame shook, and his reading glasses almost fell off the bedside table. Rishi pressed his ear against the white wall in hopes of figuring out what’d happened, but it was silent. On occasion since he’d moved in, Rishi had heard the faint beats of an indiscernible song playing or the murmurs of deep voice and a soft feminine voice talking, yet that was it. He didn’t know anything about the person who lived next door.

Drawing his comforter up to his chin, Rishi decided to ignore it. He lay still for a moment before ripping the navy fabric off his body. July in Chicago meant sticky humidity and shitty air conditioning—nothing like the Bay Area, he thought, reaching for his water bottle.

Bang.

Rishi’s glasses, already on the edge of the table, slid off onto the floor with a clink. Rishi grabbed them and set them back on the table, this time far away from the edge.

Bang.

This bang was the loudest yet, and it was followed by a shriek and a smash. Frying pan in one hand and phone in the other, Rishi peeled his front door open and glanced around the hallway. No one was out there, so he slowly walked to his neighbor’s door and knocked three times. Another bang, and Rishi tested the brass doorknob. The door opened, and Rishi found himself staring at an apartment nearly identical to his, except the walls were almost entirely covered with paintings of sailboats on pale blue oceans.

“You fucker!”

Seeing a girl in an oversized maroon shirt and socks standing near the bedroom, Rishi inched backwards—the last thing he wanted was to interrupt a nasty breakup. He’d almost closed the door when it swung open and the girl smacked into him. 

“And who are you now?” the girl asked him, before turning around and directing her voice back into the apartment. “Did you really think one of your stupid friends could get you outta this mess?”

Without waiting for a response, she slammed the door and marched down the hall. Rishi rubbed his chest and walked back to his apartment.

Apparently bruises and being yelled at were what he got for trying to be a friendly neighbor.

***

It continued with a knock.

“Hello?” Rishi said as he opened the door the next morning. Rishi immediately noticed two things: the guy was brown and even taller than he was, which was pretty rare considering Rishi was six foot two. He had a perfectly trimmed beard that Rishi was envious of—he could never grow out more than a few days’ worth of stubble without getting annoyed by the upkeep required—and wore a plain green t-shirt. The guy looked like he was about the same age as Rishi, which didn’t surprise him. Lakeview was a popular neighborhood for post-grads. 

“Hi, uh, I live next door. My name’s Manzir.” He stared back at Rishi curiously.

Rishi shook his hand. “I’m Rishi.”

Manzir scratched the back of his neck. “Cool. So, I wanted to, uh, say sorry about yesterday. If it wasn’t obvious, we were in the middle of a breakup.”

“You’re fine. I heard some noises and just got…concerned. I’m sorry about it.”

 Manzir shrugged. “It’s whatever. We had it coming.” He said it nonchalantly but glanced down at his feet.

“Oh.” Rishi paused. “Do you wanna come in?”

“Sure!” Manzir stood up a little straighter and shuffled in. “Your place looks a lot like mine.” Manzir’s gaze fell on the single couch and the kitchen counter, empty save for a toaster. “I take it you just moved in?”

“Three weeks ago,” Rishi said. “I just graduated from UC Berkeley and came here to work at this small tech startup, Surity. They’re actually growing like crazy.”

“Damn. You’re telling me you came all the way from Silicon Valley to Chicago to work at a tech startup? That’s kinda ironic.”

Rishi grinned. “When you put it that way, yeah, it sounds dumb. What about you?”

“I graduated last year and work in marketing now.” Manzir plopped himself down on Rishi’s couch. “How’re you liking Lakeview compared to the Bay?”

Rishi sat down on the opposite end of the couch and faced Manzir, taking in his dark features.

“Honestly, man, it’s super white here,” Rishi said.  

 Manzir laughed, and Rishi joined in.

***

It lingered with a hit of weed.

“This is good shit,” Rishi said. He slumped on Manzir’s couch and closed his eyes. “I’ve missed this.”

Manzir laughed. “What, you thought there’s no weed in all of Chicago?”

“I didn’t think it’d be like the stuff we have in California. I was definitely mistaken.” Rishi’s brain numbed, and he embraced the familiar feeling.

Now that Rishi had been at Surity for over a month, the workload was increasing, and it showed: a half-assembled coffee table sat in his living room; the paper plates he ate off because he hadn’t emptied the dishwasher in a week; and the basil plant his mom had bought him when she helped him move in stood wilting on the windowsill.

Manzir passed Rishi the roach. Rishi watched as the smoke drifted towards the ceiling, idly wondering if the open window was enough ventilation.

“So…are you feeling better after that breakup?”

  “It’s—it’s just like—” Manzir coughed. “She fuckin’ dumped my paintings on the floor. Not just any of them, the ones she knew I liked the best.”

“Wait, so that’s the banging noise I heard?”

“Yeah, she sorta, like, took them,” Manzir said, gesturing, “and hurled them. These are heavy canvases we’re talking about.”

“Wow.” Rishi wished he could open his eyes and see the look on Manzir’s face, but he was too high. “Why was she so pissed?”

“‘Cause I was a shit boyfriend.” Manzir chuckled a little. “Well see, that’s the issue. I thought we were casually non-exclusively dating. Apparently, we were actually together.”

Rishi managed to open his eyes and observe the way Manzir adjusted his glasses before glancing around at the rest of Manzir’s living room, taking in the paintings of the sailboat when the sun dipped below the horizon, or when the wind slowed down and the sail hung limp, waiting for the wind to return. The one with a tiny man standing on the boat was Rishi’s favorite; he stood with his shoulders squarely facing the ocean, as if defiantly protecting his sailboat from the world.

***

A girl sloshed her vodka cranberry on Rishi, and he winced feeling the cold liquid seep into his white shirt.

“Oops, sorry.” She giggled and stumbled away from him.

“This only happens to me,” Rishi said as he turned to Elaine. 

“Oh, c’mon,” she started, and Rishi bent down to hear the rest of her sentence, but it was lost in the chaos of the club.

With a jolt, Rishi felt Elaine’s small hands smoothing down his damp shirt. He wasn’t sure if they were on a date or not—in the middle of working intensely on a project together all of Friday afternoon, Elaine had thrown her hands up in frustration and joked that they should get drunk, and he’d joked back in agreement. Rishi hadn’t anticipated they’d actually end up at a popular club in River North together five hours later.

Elaine gestured toward the bar, and Rishi followed her. “This round’s on me!” she said once they reached a slightly quieter section. Rishi hung back as Elaine flagged down a bartender with a smile and immediately got their drinks.

She handed Rishi his drink and leaned on him a little. Ruining their work relationship didn’t seem like a great idea, so Rishi told himself Elaine was tired. 

“There’s a lot of guys here tonight,” Elaine said as she sipped on her drink.

“Looks like you have options then,” Rishi responded, shrugging his shoulders. He avoided looking down at her because she was wearing a low-cut top and he didn’t want to accidentally eye her cleavage. Checking out his coworker felt wrong, even if he did admire the way she automatically made him tea if she was making some for herself, the way she delicately yet furiously typed at her keyboard, the way she talked about the Bay Area with him, her hometown as well, using a soft, gentle tone she saved solely for describing the aroma of curry shops, the tang of her mom’s homemade kimchi-jjigae, and “the palpable presence of culture in the air,” as Elaine liked to call it.  

“Hmmm.” Elaine tapped her fingers against her margarita. “Hold this, I have to pee.”

Rishi watched as she strode through the club. A few guys turned their heads when she walked past, and a stocky guy grabbed her arm and swung her toward him. Rishi started for her, but Elaine simply laughed, patted the guy’s arm, and gracefully slid out of his reach.

Rishi shook his head and grinned to himself.

***

It got awkward with a movie.

Or maybe, it was Rishi’s fault.

A few weeks after their night out, Elaine invited herself over, but Rishi felt weird about it, so at the last moment he texted Manzir, who came over ten minutes before Elaine showed up. The three of them sat on the couch with Rishi wedged in the middle, and watched the movie off his laptop, propped up on his wobbly IKEA coffee table. Though he’d finally gotten around to assembling it, the light brown wood clashed with his tan couch, and Rishi often found himself wincing at the bland color scheme, especially whenever Manzir came over to smoke or hang out.

The way Elaine drank in Manzir’s appearance when she first walked hadn’t escaped Rishi’s notice. Manzir was wearing a simple Michigan shirt and jogger pants, but Elaine stared at him with intensity for a moment before softening her features to a grin.  

“Hi, I’m Elaine, Rishi’s work wife,” she joked when shaking Manzir’s hand.

The two laughed together like old friends catching up over a drink after a long time. Rishi immediately felt as if he’d missed out on something already.

So there they were, Rishi squeezed between the two of them, watching a movie. Every ten minutes or so Manzir would say something to Elaine, and Rishi would lean back, making himself small so the two could talk as if he weren’t there at all.

***

“Miss you lots. Can’t wait for you to come home for Thanksgiving. Here’s something special to get you through the next few weeks. Please stay warm and wear lots of layers, Chicago’s very cold. Brrr!”

The card was signed by his mom, dad, and little sister. The front was decorated with a cartoon polar bear wearing a bright red beanie, woolen checkered scarf, and oversized mittens. Inside the package was a thick navy-blue scarf and a tin of kaju barfi, his favorite Indian dessert. Rishi hadn’t seen his family since July, which he realized was the longest time it’d ever been. 

Rishi grabbed his phone and debated on giving them a call, but as he inspected the stitches of the scarf and noticed a few imperfections, he slid his phone back into his pocket. In a few spots, the knit stitches were closer together—his mom had made it for him. He envisioned his mom’s wispy dark hair falling in her face, her lips pursed in concentration. His dad would occasionally glance up from his book—it’d be called something cheesy like How to Be Efficient or 8 Easy Ways to Be More Useful—and tell her a fact he’d just learned. The two of them would discuss it until Rishi’s little sister, Ishita, would come home past curfew, dressed in a miniskirt and crop top, sparking a nasty argument.

A somber feeling tightened the back of Rishi’s throat, and his fingers clenched around the phone in his pocket. He couldn’t talk to his parents like this, he decided, so instead he grabbed the tin and walked the five feet to Manzir’s door.

“It’s open!”

Cut-up Trader Joe’s paper bags littered Manzir’s living room floor. Manzir was slouching on a stool and mixing soft hues of green and blue on his palette. 

Manzir turned to look at him. “Rishi, what’s up?”

Rishi kicked off his shoes and waved the tin around. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Of what kind?”

“Kaju barfi.”

Manzir raised his eyebrows and faked a pout. “You went to Devon without me?”

Rishi’s first trip to Devon Avenue, a street with an entire section dedicated to Indian restaurants, grocery stores, and salons, had been with Manzir about a month ago, after Rishi’s usual complaints that Chicago lacked the Bay Area’s rich diversity. The two of them wandered from store to store, easily spending the most time in a sweet shop, where they feasted on fresh pieces of diamond-cut, silvery kaju barfi and spirals of sticky, neon orange jalebis.

“Of course not. My parents sent it to me.”

“Yum. It’s one of my favorite barfis.”

Rishi opened up the tin. “Want some?”

Manzir held up his palette and paintbrush. His fingers were speckled with bits of color. “Can you pop one in my mouth for me?”

Rishi carefully selected a piece from the tin and placed it in Manzir’s mouth. The smell of the sugar combined with the paint dizzied Rishi momentarily, and he let out an exhale as Manzir slowly chewed the barfi.

Manzir smiled. “Thanks man.”

Rishi woozily smiled back.

***

It got bad with dinner.

The three of them were sitting in a ramen restaurant. It was blisteringly cold outside, and Elaine had decided a hot bowl of ramen was the best remedy for the constant chill. Rishi immediately agreed, mainly because he loved ramen, but wished he’d said no after Elaine invited Manzir too.

Elaine kept giggling at everything Manzir said, and Rishi gulped his white wine to distract himself until the food came out. At least this time Rishi wasn’t stuck between them. They were seated at a rectangular table, with Manzir and Elaine on one side and Rishi directly across Manzir on the other. Rishi soon realized that wasn’t the best idea when their knees kept knocking. He was upset with himself for hating the way Manzir and Elaine looked together. Manzir towered over Elaine, but she seemed to enjoy it, constantly saying Manzir blocked the wind when they were outside. If Manzir were to put his arm around Elaine, she’d perfectly fit in the crook of his shoulder.

Eventually, three steaming bowls of ramen were placed in front of them. “Rishi,” Elaine began to say as they waited for it to cool down. “What do you think, will this live up to the Ippudo on Berkeley’s campus?”

Rishi couldn’t contain a snort. “Hell no. Ippudo’ll forever reign as the best ramen place.”

“Ramen’s ramen,” Elaine said, shaking her head. “Don’t be such a snob.”

She held up her chopsticks and motioned for them to do the same. “To ramen and leaving for Thanksgiving tomorrow.”

“Cheers.”

They slurped their noodles and sipped their wine. A little while later, after they’d signed their bills and only a few drops of their drinks were left, Elaine excused herself to the bathroom.

“I’m so fucking full,” Manzir said, sinking into his seat. His legs knocked into Rishi’s, but he didn’t bother moving them. “So, does this compare to that Ippudo place you love so much?”

Rishi’s stomach was too full for him to think straight. “Maybe. But Ippudo’s only US locations are in New York and the Bay, so it automatically wins.”

“You really don’t like it here, do you?”

Rishi sank down in his chair. Their legs tangled up. “I mean, Chicago’s amazing, but I’ve never been away from the Bay for so long, you know? And it kind of hurts. It’s so different there.”

“Really?”

Before Rishi could respond, Elaine returned. “Well, you two look like you need to go home. I should head back too.”

“Want us to walk you to the Belmont stop?”

“It’s two blocks, I’ll be fine.” She shrugged on her coat and hugged them both goodbye. “Text me when you guys get back, would you? You’re both seconds away from passing out. Rishi, don’t forget to bring your suitcase to work tomorrow. We’ll have to leave early if we want to catch the blue line to O’Hare in time for our flight.”

They parted at the door, and a gust of cold air instantly jerked Rishi out of his trance. Rishi and Manzir quickly walked back to their apartment building. 

“Wanna come over for a beer?” Manzir asked as they climbed up the stairs to the third floor.

Rishi was still full from dinner, but found himself saying yes. He waited on a barstool in the kitchen while Manzir popped the tops of two Blue Moons. 

“Excited to go home tomorrow?” Manzir said, sitting down on the barstool next to Rishi. His elbow grazed Rishi’s before he moved it away.

“Definitely.” Rishi paused for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“What’s up?”

“Why do you only paint sailboats? Are you into sailing?”

Manzir fiddled with his bottle. “They’re…calming. I grew up in Michigan and the lakes are just something else. They’re such a part of the culture in Michigan, if that makes sense? I love Chicago, but Lakeview and this side of Lake Michigan aren’t the same. Painting makes me miss home a little less.”

It was ironic, Rishi supposed, how he’d always thought those boats were out at sea, sailing in the ocean, not lakes.

They were silent for a while, accustomed to staring off in space when high together. Rishi set his empty beer down and watched as Manzir took a final pull from the bottle, placed his next to Rishi’s, and sighed.

“Come here.”

“Wha—”

Manzir was already swiveling Rishi’s barstool to face him, skimming his hand across the counter before resting it on Rishi’s knee, leaning his chest closer until it almost touched, ghosting his lips to the corner of Rishi’s mouth.

Rishi had never experienced anything like it. He’d always been with girls much smaller than he was, and their petite frames easily molded into his. Manzir’s body equally matched his, Manzir’s beard rubbed against his face, and Manzir’s hands were strong and sturdy.

It was as easy as exhaling and knowing Manzir would inhale for him.

***

“This airport sucks ass.”

A little girl stared curiously up at Elaine, and her mother quickly threw an arm around the girl and drew her away.

“Good going,” Rishi said. “You better hope you’re not sitting next to them on the flight.”

“I probably won’t because I’m not sure this plane will ever take off. We’re so delayed.” Elaine propped her feet up on her suitcase. “What seat do you have?”

Rishi glanced down at his phone and made a face. “Aisle.”

“Damnit, I wanted the aisle,” Elaine said. “I’ve got the window.”

“I prefer the window.”

“Trade?” they said at the same time before nodding.

“You know, we make a good team,” Elaine said. “I’m transcending my work wife status to full-on wife.”

Rishi cracked his knuckles. “But we aren’t…like a thing. Anyway, I thought you were into Manzir.”

“Am I? I thought you were.”

Rishi coughed. “What?”

“You don’t need to pretend. It wasn’t tough to figure out.”

“Oh.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s into you too.”

Rishi recalled Manzir stroking his clean-shaven face with his thumb last night before tracing his jaw line with his index finger, as if he were committing Rishi’s angles to memory for a painting. 

“Oh.”

“But you already know that, don’t you?”

***

There was free in-flight Wi-Fi, and about two hours in, Rishi got a message from Manzir. Rishi snuck a glance at Elaine, who was nodding off, so he opened it. Manzir had sent a picture, presumably from his house in Michigan. Rishi could see the outline of a windowpane, and beyond, the edge of a lake touching the horizon. 

“jealous you’re home already,” Rishi texted Manzir.

“ur so close!” Manzir responded.

Manzir wasn’t wrong. In a few hours, Rishi would be parting ways with Elaine at the airport and waiting for his parents to pick him up. His sister would pretend like she didn’t miss Rishi, but then she’d give him a huge hug and immediately start complaining about their parents. His mom would greet him with some sweet treat and tell him he’d lost weight. His dad would ask how his job was going.

But the more Rishi thought about it, the more he began to miss his apartment, the solitary tan couch, the dead basil plant on the windowsill, the paintings next door. Not home, but close.

It was clear out when the plane began to descend. Normally, heavy fog obstructed Rishi’s view of the Bay, and he wouldn’t know they were near SFO until he felt the jerk of the plane’s wheels hitting the tarmac. But today, he could see the blue waves lapping at the edge of the shoreline.

For the first time, Rishi realized the Bay wasn’t quite the ocean. Add some land, and it could be a lake itself.