The Trouble Next Door

C. The Art of Stalking

I was organizing my room, putting everything in its proper place, when I heard my mom call out from downstairs. "Come down here, one of your friends is here!"

I went down, and there was Vishwash—dressed as a girl. My jaw dropped. I stared at him for a second, then said, "Tumi boka, ekhane ki korcho? (You idiot, what are you doing here?)"

"Ami tomay dekhte eshechi. (I came to meet you.)" he said, trying—and failing—at a high-pitched voice.

My mom, squinting suspiciously, asked, "Beta, does your friend have a throat problem? Her voice sounds... odd."

Now you're asking who this guy is? Let me take you back to the past two days.

What am I even doing? This is the 23rd time. How many more times will I have to go through this?

"Vishwash, stop crying! You're not a kid. Seriously, you're like a broken record at this point," I said, rubbing my forehead.

"Divya! My love, if I don't cry, what else should I do? We've been friends for years, but you never look at me that way. What's wrong with me? I'm good-looking, I'm rich, I even have a Gucci wallet!" he sobbed dramatically, wiping his nose with a tissue the size of a napkin.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. At this rate, I'm going to need a drink before I can even deal with him. I checked my phone, only to find more messages about things that actually matter like the fact that I forgot to buy potatoes. Great.

I slammed the car door open, kicked the tire, and took a deep breath. I got back in the car, shoved a handkerchief at him, and he wiped his nose with it like it was his personal lifeline.

"If you can't handle it, maybe we shouldn't be friends anymore," I said, trying to stay calm, but my patience was hanging by a thread.

"But you're so amazing! You listen to me, you take care of me. How can I live without you?" he sniffled, sounding like the world's saddest puppy.

At this point, I could barely breathe. Anger was bubbling up again, but I managed to keep it under control. "Shut up, idiot! Let's just go grab a drink. Want to try a cigarette?"

"You know I don't do that stuff. I'm a gentleman! I can't breathe without you," he said, wiping his nose with an even bigger tissue.

"Ugh!" I groaned. "Go die, then."

I was about to step out of the car when I noticed a girl walking by. I slumped back into my seat.

"Vishwash, follow that scooter! That girl ran off with my purse yesterday."

"Who? Forget it, I'll buy you a new one," he replied, still sniffling like he was auditioning for a role in a soap opera.

I took another deep breath, holding back the sarcasm that was threatening to spill over.

"I wish I had a heart!" I sighed. "You're a good person, but honestly, there's nothing between us. Now, just drop me home. I'm leaving tomorrow anyway, college is over."

"Take me with you!" he begged.

"My mom would kill me if I showed up with a guy and called him 'just a friend.' Her brain's stuck in the 1980s Bollywood movies," I said, rolling my eyes so hard I almost saw my own brain.

He wiped his tears dramatically. "I'll dress as a girl, then! I can't live without you."

"Ugh!" I paused, staring out the window for a second. "You know, I was planning to shock my family anyway, but honestly, I haven't found anyone I can tell the truth to."

"What truth?" he stopped crying, suddenly intrigued.

"This Diwali, I'm moving to Mumbai for good. I'll leave Kolkata and find a job there."