She didn’t turn as he settled down beside her, on the rock.
“What took you so long?”
“I ran into Arnab, Gayathri and that gang on the way here. Major party, they’re having. Brought you something.” He held out a beer bottle to her.
She took the bottle, without turning and took a swig. He smelt of Old Monk and too much deodorant.
He followed her eyes. The moon shimmered silently back up at them from the lake. An almost perfect reflection, rippled by the occasional wave.
She sighed. And took another swig in the silence.
“Reminds me of that old poem we learnt in school. ‘Silver’.”
She smiled. “Yes. It does, doesn’t it?”
He took the bottle from her hand and took a swig.
“Hey! I thought that was for me!”
“Sharing is caring.” he replied, handing it back to her.
“I don’t care. And I can smell the Rum you didn’t share.”
He grinned and pulled a small Coke bottle out from his backpack. “Rum and Coke?” he offered.
She grimaced, “Maybe not right away. Don’t want to pass out.”
“Suit yourself,” he took a swig from the coke bottle.Then he leaned back on his elbows and gazed up at the sky.
“Infinity, eh?” she asked, leaning back as well, and tossing her head to dislodge a few stray wisps of hair from around her eyes.
“Yeah. Infinity.” And then after a companiable pause, “Have you seen that Calvin and Hobbes strip? About the stars and infinity?”
“Yup. Love Bill Waterson.” She sat up and gulped down a mouthful of beer.
“Pure genius, that man.” he lay back further, hands supporting his head using his backpack as a pillow.
“When I was a kid, I wanted to be a cartoonist. I loved that show, ‘Caroline in the City’.”
He laughed, “I bet you had a crush on that struggling artist character. He’s your type.”
“Richard! Yes, I loved him. I dreamt about him. Still do.” she took another swig of beer and held it in her mouth, allowing the fizz to wrinkle her nose.
“And now you have your very own struggling artist. How does it feel?”
“Don’t say that.”
“Don’t say what?”
She took a deep breath, “We broke up.”
He sat up. The silence stretched between them, like the rippling waters of the lake. He couldn’t see her expression. Her profile was silhouetted against the moonlit night sky.
“I’m sorry.” he said, finally.
“Well, I never liked him. You know that. But I know you cared about him.”
“I don’t know. I wonder if I ever cared about anything or anyone other than myself.”
“Right…” he drawled, rolling his eyes.
“No, I’m serious, Sahil. I feel like I’ve never cared about anyone or anything. All I’ve been doing all my life is acting. Playing a part. Whenever anything happens in my life, I go over the possible responses in my head, and play out the appropriate one in my life.” her eyes glistened.
“In a sense, I suppose we all do that…”
“No. Not so much. Some people feel. I know he did. He does. That’s how he gets inspiration for his art.”
“Amu, I think you might be overthinking this.”
She ignored him. “That’s what life is to him. Inspiration for art. Very Gaimanesque. Everything he thinks and feels fuels a painting or a sculpture. That’s what he’s doing right now, I’m sure. Pouring his pain into a work of art. And it’s all so genuine, no one else ever completely understands what he’s created. I certainly couldn’t.”
The silence slowly surged back around them.
“Nothing momentous. We realized we’re different people. We want different things out of life. I want more involvement. Excitement. Adventure. He wants to observe the world and document his reactions to it.”
“What do you mean, ‘that’s it?’” she snapped, turning to him. Her eyes glittered in the darkness.
“I mean, that doesn’t sound too serious. It sounds like any one of your tiffs. You always knew you wanted different things.”
“It’s not a tiff.” she snapped.
“Look, i’m not suggesting you get back together. Personally I think this is good for you. Pardon me for saying so, but you deserve better than him.”
“He deserves better than me,” her voice shook.
“Hmmm… let’s stick to: you’re different people. Makes more sense.”
He gazed at her, without quite turning towards her.
A little tremor shook her frame, and he moved closer, putting an arm around her. She leaned against him and cried silent beery tears on to his shoulder. He patted her head awkwardly. After a few moments, she grew still, and wiped her cheeks with the palm of her hand.
“Sahil?” she said, softly, looking up at his face, her head still resting on his shoulder.
She lifted her head off his shoulder, and looked into his eyes. Their faces were inches apart. Her eyes searched his desperately.
He looked away, awkwardly. His one armed hug around her shoulder grew strangely slack.
“Amrita, I thought you knew. I’m gay.”