Chapter Five
NASH
Whatever the strange expression of expectation that Kiran had on her face was, Nash must have disappointed her with his answer.
“I’m an only child.”
The way Kiran’s face had fallen when she’d talked about siblings, as if she were bracing herself for a shock, disappeared as quickly as it came.
“What’s your favorite memory of your sister?”
“Her wedding. It was nice to see all the family together.”
“That sounds fun!”
“It was. I was only eight, but I danced at it, and it stands out in my mind as a good memory, you know?”
“I remember a trip to Disney World with my parents when I was three or four. Some memories don’t fade with time. Do you still dance?”
“Mm-hmm. Mostly Bollywood classes around the city and a classical class here and there… There’s a workout class called Doonya that I love going to because it’s Bollywood dance-based, and the cardio burn is one you feel for days. But growing up, I was only ever classically trained.”
“Wow, look at you. That’s a big deal, right?”
“I suppose so. It’s mostly a great release for me—tension fades away.”
“I can see that. Even your face relaxes when you talk about it.”
“As opposed to usual, when I’m uptight? You know, according to your vast amount of knowledge of me.” Kiran raised an eyebrow.
“Exactly.”
They both laughed.
“How about you? What’s your favorite childhood memory?”
He lowered his eyes to the table next to them, then set his empty cup on a coaster, absentmindedly spinning it.
“Chasing fireflies with my mom when I was little. She was sick a lot when I was younger, and being able to spend that time with her is cherished now.”
“I’m sorry she was ill.” Kiran’s eyes drooped in the corners, and her genuine reaction melted the cold of his memory. Not enough to eliminate it. But enough for him to notice.
“Thank you.”
He didn’t bring up the part about his parents both being gone. It wasn’t that it lacked importance, but in this moment, he didn’t want to weigh down the conversation. He didn’t want the look of pity people gave him when he told them he had no family. Besides, saying he had no parents made it sound like he was alone in the world, and he wasn’t. He had Aunt Kate, who supported him, and his friends.
“So you said you’re from Nashville, right?”
“I am. I’m a southern boy.”
“I went there once. My friend Payal is such a partyer, and she was determined to take trips to the biggest party capitals in the United States, so we wound up taking a trip to Vegas, followed by Nashville, followed by Austin.”
“That sounds…exhausting,” Nash said. “I’m not sure I would have survived that.”
“We had barely graduated college, so it was much more bearable!” Kiran laughed at the memory. “It was like a celebratory trip. I think her liver is still recovering.”
“And yours?”
Nash didn’t mean to sound judgmental, but his tone came off that way anyway. He was always interested in the answers people gave to questions about drinking habits because he’d seen firsthand what those patterns could do.
“I don’t drink that often, to be honest. I loved the environment, the energy, the music. Nashville has a little magic about it.” Kiran’s eyes lit up. “We were at this bar downtown—it was on top of a museum, overlooking the river—”
“The George Jones Museum?”
“Yes!” Kiran cried. “And we were sipping our drinks and it started getting dark outside. We’re looking at the stadium and that pedestrian bridge, and we hear this man, around our dads’ age, talk about Duke. So we mention we’d graduated a few weeks earlier from there, and he invites us over to chat with his family and then points out the moon rising. It’s a beautiful, brilliant full moon. And he tells us that there are only twelve full moons in a year…and if a person lives sixty-five years, then there are only about eight hundred full moons to watch in a lifetime. Nashville makes me think of that memory, and it has so much magic about it—alcohol or not.”
The way she seemed to burst at the seams, full of the very magic she was describing, made his stomach leap pleasantly, like her happiness was contagious.
Nash was also unexpectedly, inexplicably relieved about her party habits. “It does, I agree. I didn’t really get to experience the beauty of it until college, but it’s definitely a wonderful place to be.”
“Why’d you leave it? What made you choose New York?”
“I grew up in Nashville. Went to college there. Graduate school. And then at some point, I realized that my bubble was tiny. There was an entire world to see, and I wanted to expand my own and let go of anything that held me back. It seemed like a great time to make a change. My best friend lives in the city, and he said it was amazing. I researched some psychology programs, and it turned out the hospital I’m at was hiring…so here I am.”
“That’s amazing! You must have worked so hard.”
“Well, judging by the fact that you’re from another country and getting here can be tough…I think you’re pretty amazing too.” Nash felt shy saying it out loud, nerves of unknown origin causing butterflies in his stomach. “Where were you before New York?”
“Well, I was in a village outside of Delhi for my early childhood, then got a scholarship to a boarding school in India, which was a giant leg up. Then went to Duke for undergrad and a master’s degree in this combined five-year program. Then came here and started work.”
“That’s impressive.” Nash had heard from his graduate school cohort members who had come from other countries that one had to be the cream of the crop to get admittance into an American university.
“I think everyone has a certain drive or goal that prompts them to success, you know? If you keep that goal in mind, then you work like hell until you achieve it.”
“And what was your goal?” Nash asked.
“We didn’t grow up with money. I wanted my parents to live a stress-free life.”
“Are they?”
“I moved them into a place in Delhi so they have better access to things as they get older, like hospitals and doctors. They’re elderly, and my dad had a heart attack a few years ago, so it’s important to me to support them. What was your reason to become a psychologist?”
“Kids,” Nash said simply.
Kiran’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Kids? As in you have them?”
“As in I didn’t have the greatest childhood, and I thought being a psychologist and allowing children to be themselves would be a great way to provide a safe space.”
“That’s noble, Nash. I’m glad that you ended up here.” Her eyes dropped to her hands as she gave a soft smile.
His cheeks warmed before he spoke. “You know…since I’m new to the city, would you mind if I text you every once in a while to hang out?”
He felt like a child asking another to play, tentative and nervous for no reason other than wanting to be liked.
But the way joy spread across Kiran’s face, like she was blessed that anyone would want to spend time with her, was so worth risking the appearance of idiocy. He’d never felt so proud of making someone’s face light up.
“I’d love that.”
Nash reluctantly looked at his watch, and it was a few minutes past seven. “Well, I should probably call the landlord.”
“Sure. I’ll give you a second.”
He handed Kiran his cup, and their fingers brushed together. Nash had never been one to think sparks were real, but the tingle she left with her gentle touch was like a feather tracing circles along the back of his neck—and the sensation shot through his body, leaving goose bumps on his arms.
Her eyes widened for a split second before she hooked the handle of her own cup around a finger. She walked over to the sink as he dialed the number.
The phone rang six times before he reached voicemail. Feeling put out, he left a message and hung up.
“He didn’t pick up,” Nash said. “I’m really sorry. I can go to the Starbucks around the corner if you’ve got something to do.”
“Give it a bit of time. Have you walked around the East Village much?”
“No, not as much as I’d like! I’m not an old-timer like you.”
“Well, then why don’t we take a walk?”
Who was this girl? Her kindness was unexpected—and certainly more than he ever thought possible in someone he barely knew. He couldn’t think of a single person who would spend this much time with a total stranger.
“Are you sure I’m not imposing? You’ve already been so sweet.” Nash hesitated.
Kiran smiled. “You’re my guest, and I have a free night. Let’s go.”
She plucked her keys off the hook hanging by the door, slid on a pair of flip-flops, and held the door open for him, waiting.
He paused for a moment, then pulled his sneakers off the rack and slid his feet inside.
“Have you been to any food places yet?” Kiran asked as they stepped back outside.
“There’s a bagel place on Avenue A close to Eleventh that I really liked today.”
“Oh my gosh, Tompkins Square Bagels! The entire ten pounds I gained when I moved to New York came from that place. They should have named a bagel after me.”
“I swear, their jalapeño cheddar cream cheese is laced with something. I’m already craving another one.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was. I used to think a part of my day was missing if I didn’t have breakfast there.”
“So true love, then?” Nash joked, trying to ignore the curiosity piquing in his mind about what it would be like to be something she missed.
“The closest I’ve come to it!” Kiran giggled. “No surprise that it’s with food.”
“Well, you’ll have to take me to all your favorite food places. I gotta learn your ways.”
“You’re in for a lot of nights, then, because I can’t choose one or two!”
“I’m not going to complain.”
“Okay, stop!” Kiran froze in her tracks.
“What? Are you okay?” Nash’s training around erratic patients kicked into high gear, and he instantly prepared his mind for a number of outcomes.
“Turn around.” Kiran touched his arm to guide him.
She left a soft imprint there. Even after he was facing the brick wall she had turned him toward, his elbow felt the pressure of her fingers, and he ran his hand over his arm to make it fade before he looked up.
Painted on the side of a building was a giant work of art with bright colors. Numerous faces and heads popped out from the image, tinted in hues of oranges, pinks, and greens. As he glanced downward, sculptures of metal dotted a green yard full of metalworks.
He had almost passed by without noticing.
“Surprise?”
Nash’s mouth dropped open. “This is beautiful.”
His eyes hungrily scanned over the curves of each face and the hardened lines on the features of the elderly.
“This is what I love about living in the East Village. You mind your own business and walk to run errands or get to work, but suddenly you look up, and there’s art all around you.”
“I guess you have to open your eyes to find the magic,” he murmured, glancing around, trying to find more hidden gems.
Their eyes met. And in the sunlight, Nash could see every crystalline brown peak and crevice in the irises of her eyes.
Was that a twinkle?
His phone buzzed, and they both startled at the loud ring between them.
Hey, Nash, sorry I missed your call. I’ll meet you in the building in ten minutes and will let you in.
“Well, the landlord says he can let me into my place.”
“See? Your evening didn’t turn out so badly, did it?”
“No. It was surprisingly wonderful. Thank you for hosting me and being so kind.”
“Any time.”
As they entered their building, Nash waved at Kiran.
She grinned at him, gave a wiggle of her fingers in response, and ascended the stairs to her second-floor apartment. As he watched her from the lobby, thankful for the kindness of strangers, he hoped this wouldn’t be the last time he got to experience it.