Thud. Thud. Thud.
“Just go see her Ramakrishnan. She’s a nice girl, very sweet, fries vadas with a hole, just like you like them.”
Thud. Thud. Thudthud…
“Ramakrishnan if you don’t go, I will not speak with you!”
…hudthudthudthudthud….
“Ramakrishnan don’t talk back to your Amma! She’s saying this for your sake only.”
…thudthudThudTHUDTHUDTHUD…
The sweat slides down my dark curls dripping down from my sharp dusky brown colored nose. I increase the pace in an effort to drown out the voices in my head, the flashes of my parents’ furious faces, the nasal cannulas, the blinding whiteness, and the tears. I go faster and faster until, at last, my mind is completely occupied by my feet thudding against the surface of the treadmill.
…THUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUD…
Around an hour later, I finally slam down on the circular END button with my palm, letting out a large huff as I do so, and the machine gradually slows down. I close my eyes for a couple breaths, waiting for my heart rate to slow while I anchor my focus to the present.
“Wow man, you were really killing it there. Four minutes a mile! Damn!”
My eyes snap open to see a stocky redhead sitting on the bike to my right. I offer a polite smile.
“Thanks George, I had some things on my mind.”
“Ohhhhhhhh I got it.” He says with a wink.
“Huh?”
“You’ve got girl problems, isn’t that right?”
“Uh…” My mind flashes to the gleaming assortment of jewelry “kept for my future wife” and my mother’s seemingly infinite collection of eligible girls.
“A handsome guy like you, you definitely have a girlfriend. Let me guess, is she complaining about you not spending enough time with her? That you don’t care about her enough? Well, let me tell you, the thing to do is…
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
P qffg eq ja atf ijguf mibmx bc atf kjii lc ogbca bo wf: 6:49. Ktfc P ugjy ws abkfi jcv rklqf la jmgbrr ws ojmf j ofk alwfr.
“…yea wjxf regf rtf ecvfgrajcvr atja cba fnfgsatlcu lr jybea tfg. Tbe’nf ubaaj wjxf tfg tjqqs yea sbe mjc’a yf yfmbwlcu j rijnf ab tfg, sbe tfjg?”
I plaster a polite smile across my face. “Yeah George, I hear you and I appreciate it. But it’s almost 7 and I’ve got an appointment so…catch you later?”
“Alright, next Tuesday as always!”
“See you then.”
I head out of the fitness area and make for my locker. Along the way my phone starts to ring and I glance down. As soon as I catch sight of the name I inhale sharply and massage the ridge of my eyebrows before picking up.
“Hello Naya-“
“He hasn’t finished his slides.”
“I-“
“We can’t do it for him. Prof will know. And you know how much of a stickler he is for group projects.”
“Okay, I know I-“
“I mean I know it doesn’t matter for you since you’ve already gotten hired and everything. But I-“
“Holdup. I need to graduate too. I-” I make way for an elderly couple trying to enter the fitness area.
“Okay Naya can we talk in like 15 minutes? I’m at the gym right now. Just give me 15, I’ll call you back.”
Hanging up the phone amidst her protests I let out another massive exhale. Then I quickly grab my clothes, change, and head out to my car.
Fifteen minutes later I’m sitting in a Panera Bread, one hand spinning a pen I found stashed in my car, the other clutching my phone.
“He’s the only one who didn’t do anything!”
“Yes, I know.”
“And he thinks he can just get away with it? We may be seniors but we all need to graduate! Why can’t he think of the rest of us!”
I feel a nerve in my forehead bulge. “Yes, I-“
“Sir, your order?” I look up.
“Cream of chicken soup and a Bacon Turkey Sandwich?”
“Yes.” I gaze at the steam wafting out from the soup as I imagine my mother’s shock if she knew what I was eating right now. I officially quit being a vegetarian three years ago. However, my family doesn’t know this and I intend to keep it that way unless I want constant matchmaking to be the least of my worries.
“Hey, are you paying attention?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Don’t just uh me, do something!”
“Well what do you want me to do? At best we do his part ourselves and give him notecards to use when we present.”
“But then there’s no way we can get an A, Prof will be able to tell!”
“Look, we’ve tried calling him, going to his house-“
“Where he never is.” She grumbles.
“-we’ve tried everything. Clearly, Jackson isn’t going to do his part-“
“Can I borrow your pen?” I look up. It’s a guy, Asian in a Chinese or Japanese way, short and slender looking. He has silver blonde hair, his bangs falling into his pale face and dark twinkling eyes. His slightly full lips are open in a soft smile.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure.” I hand him my pen and he turns to face a woman with short brown hair. She hands him a book and he opens a page and writes in it. Autograph?
“Ram?”
“Yeah, sorry. Okay, so I’ll do…”
Fifteen minutes later we’ve sketched out a rough outline.
“Okay, see you in class then.” I say.
“Ugh, another all-nighter!” You’re not the only one you know.
“Yeah, okay I’ll see you.” I hurriedly hang up, head over to dispose of my tableware, then I’m out the door, my footsteps brisk and light. Thank God that’s over.
“Wait! Wait!” About two steps from my car I hear a frantic voice behind me. Are they calling me? I turn around. It’s the Asian guy. He’s panting as he half runs towards me, his fuzzy yellow sweater flapping in the wind.
“Yeah, is something wrong?”
“Your”, huff, “pen”. He holds up the commonplace blue Bic. I blink in surprise.
“Uh…thanks.” I reach out and grab it. Somehow, he doesn’t let go and comes toppling towards me, landing right in my arms with one hand braced against my chest. I blink again.
“Uh, you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine! Sorry!” He yelps backing away. I scratch the back of my head, my curls bouncing. What’s with this atmosphere?
“So is that all then?” I start to turn towards my car.
“Wait!”
“Hmm?”
“Can I-can I have your number?” I pause. My number, why would he…? Then I notice his red ears. As I look at his downcast gaze and fidgeting fingers, I can hear my mothers’ voice: “Find a nice Tamil girl, a nice Tamil girl, a nice Tamil-“
“Sure”. My lip quirks up in a half smile. I spin the pen. “Do you have a piece of paper?”
“Ye-yeah, right here.” He pulls one out and I uncap my newly returned pen.
“I’m Ram, you are?”
“I’m Chen.”
“Nice to meet you Chen.” I look up at him and smile. He blushes.
Oo..Interesting!
As a fellow Indian, I can understand how the talks would have gone lmao.
Thanks for the chapter!!
At first I read ‘Ram’, I pronounced it Rem in the English way immediately and then I realised, oh he’s actually Indian, Raam then, I guess.
Normally when someone mentions India people normally assume they are from a Hindi speaking region so I like that it’s Tamil this time.