The Rearranged Life (31 page)

“I never said that. I never said I deserved more,” James puts in firmly, but I’m barely listening.

“My mom said I didn’t deserve the good things my family gave me growing up. She asked if I didn’t get into medical school because I focused on you too much.” I swallow back the lump forming in my throat. James presses his lips together like he’s holding back a comment that will make me react further. “When she said I was ungrateful, it killed me. For a second, I thought it’d be easier if…” I trail off into silence to avoid letting him know for a split second, she got into my head.

“If what?” he asks, sharply. I can’t meet his eyes. “It would be easier, if what, Nithya?”

“If we broke up,” I whisper. It’s not what I want. It’s not like I can even imagine it now. This chaotic bliss has become a part of me as much as the order in my life has been a part of my past. The can of worms has been opened, but it doesn’t mean I can’t wish I could close it again, just so I could unhear my mother’s words.

“Do you believe that?” he asks incredulously.

“I don’t know, James!” I shout, snapping. “Girls like this make me wonder if you’re happy with all of my baggage. Then I tell the truth, and now my family hates me. I lose either way. And I screw everyone over! Do you know how hard this is for me?”

“How hard it is for you?” James says, an emphasis on the
you
like he’s making a point.

I look at him questioningly.

“We went into this knowing what the hurdles were. I’m not saying it’s not hard for you. I’m not even sure I can imagine how hard it is. But you’re acting like you’re the only one being told you’re not good enough.”

“Who said that to you?”

“Isn’t that what this is about? I meet every list of qualifications–but I’m American. That automatically negates everything else. But I’ve been okay with it, because I’ve figured we’re in this together.”

“We are!”

“Are we? A couple harsh words, and you’re backtracking.” He sounds calm, but the accusation is there.

“That’s not true–” Or am I just denying it because the truth hurts?

“You just told me you wondered if it’d be easier if we broke up! You’re willing to throw all of this away. What we have, this amazing connection, you’re going to throw it away because it’s getting tough.” He shakes his head.

“What should I do then?” I ask him, frustrated.

“I can’t tell you,” he answers, knowing I want him to tell me what action to take. “No, that’s not it. I won’t. I won’t tell you to choose me over your family. Or to even make a choice because I don’t believe in that. I will say I didn’t expect you to rethink us.”

“I didn’t rethink it, I had a moment!” I curl my hands into fists. “You have so much faith that I’m going to be strong enough to fight this. How do you even know this is going to work?”

It’s out there now; the truth is laid bare. From day one, I have had no idea what makes James so solidly believe I will stand and fight for him. His stare is penetrating, his face flushed from raising his voice. The weariness in his body doesn’t match the intensity in his eyes, which are locked on my face.

“Because I love you, Nithya.” It’s the first time those words have ever been said. The conviction in his voice is staggering. “And I believe that’s enough. It
will
be enough.”

He has never sounded so sure of anything.
He loves me
. I only see his face in that moment. No families, no baggage, no medical school rejections or expectations. I see a future full of hope, unselfish acts of kindness… and love.

“I love you, too,” I reply, my cheeks wet. I mean it more than anything I have ever said. It doesn’t erase what’s happening, but it’s the start of something new.

few days later, I crash at James’ apartment. The beginning of April has been uneventful so far, but things can always change. James’ acceptance letters are on the docket, the last few of which should be arriving any day.

“Nithya, wake up.” Someone pushes my shoulders firmly. Now the voice turns to a whine, “Nithyaaa.”

“Mmpgh,” I croak.

“I got my letter.”

My eyes fly open, and I clamber over his bed to join him at his computer. The email waits unopened as James takes a seat in the swivel chair.

“Well… Come on! Do you want me to leave?” He deserves a little privacy to celebrate or wallow.

“No, you can stay. It won’t change anything. And you should be here whether it’s good or bad. Want to read it?”

I shake my head no. James should read the words that he is accepted. I do not want to take that away from him–his four and a half years of hard work, two unrelated majors, and long nights in the library shouldn’t culminate in an incredible accomplishment told to you by someone else. Acceptance letters validate all your college accomplishments… It’s a feeling you should experience on your own. I tell him so, and he agrees amiably before clicking the e-mail. His eyes scan over the letter and hungrily hang onto every word, transforming from a flat teal to sparkling as my suspicions are confirmed.

“I’m in.”

I squeal, unable to help myself. Despite any lingering animosity toward the world for progressing without me, I could not be happier for the love of my life. He has reached a milestone few reach and many work for. I jump into his lap and wrap my arms around his neck. I shout for Luca and Sophia next door, and they race in, Sophia still in her pajamas. There are high fives and hugs all around, the joy palpable in the air.

“So… roomies again in New York?” Luca asks, accompanied by another high five.

“As if you’d let me say no.” James beams.

“I really just want to make fun of you. While you’re at law school and want to bang your head against a desk, I’ll be at all the hottest parties,” Luca needles, before saying we should celebrate later.

I don’t want to own up to my envy. Luca has his job offer from a Big Apple PR firm, and his future is set. Sophia will follow him to the city, but if it fell through and she was summoned to the moon, she would casually pack her bags and go. James’ next three years are sealed now: if Columbia has come calling, there is no refusing the offer. Each of their paths leads to their dreams. It’s as if we are all in a forest, and they have the tools to carve their own trails out in the dense green. I sit with a toothpick and a spoon wondering how on earth I am supposed to dig myself out.

Later, as James happily calls his family, his grin mirrored on my face, I admit to myself I’m a little bit jealous. It’s also impossible not to feel thrilled when James exclaims on the phone to his mom that he got in to the faint cheers on the other end of the line. The overwhelming instinct I have to look after James has taken over. I feel as though I have accomplished something, though I have played no role in the hours of work James put into law school. James’ happiness is mine. Right now, my soul is aglow.

“Thanks, Dad. I start at the end of August. Yeah, a scholarship… No, I’ll be okay. No, Dad, I don’t need any money.” He pauses, and then he laughs. “If you insist… this weekend? I can. I can’t wait either, Mom.” I imagine his parents on speaker the same way my parents are, leaning as close as they can and holding the phone between the two of them on the couch. He glances at me. “Actually… can I bring someone? Yeah. Great. Love you too. Bye, Mom.”

He hangs up and climbs back into bed.

“Were they excited?”

“Max is flying in for the weekend, he thinks. Tristan’s coming back too. They want to make it a thing,” he says. I tell him to go. He hasn’t had the chance to hang out with his brothers in a while since their spring breaks and residency workloads have clashed.

“Come with me.”

I look at him like he has three heads.
What?

“Isn’t it too soon? And are you sure this is a good time? It’s been so tense lately.”

“Maybe that’s why it’s the perfect time. We can get away for a little while, away from this bubble and away from the stress.”

It does sound tempting. The anticipation over my medical admission, the ensuing disappointment, my parents’ catastrophic reaction, and the pressure to find a job or move forward in any way–all of it has been pushing down on me. This could be an escape, if only for a weekend.

“Please, come celebrate with me?” He sticks out his bottom lip like a three-year old.

“Okay.” I give in, smiling.

he week leading to the getaway with James is a bright one, welcomed thankfully after the last hellish few. Our Red Cross blood drives have been going well–we have exceeded our goals for each month, and the president of the organization tells me I should consider working for Red Cross permanently after college. Despite skipping lots of class during rejection week, my grades haven’t sunk. I’m not preparing to send them into schools anymore, but I’m still me, which means I care.