Finding a partner in crime

 

 

"You gents need some women in your life." I heard Melissa's voice coming from inside the bathroom. "I have not seen a dirtier place in my life."

I turned to look at Santosh, my roommate who was sitting on the other end of the couch in the living room, half in embarrassment, half in amusement. He stared back at me with a similar mix of emotions. We were actually not going to be roommates for long. Santosh was quitting his PhD program and joining Google as a software engineer with a Master's degree. I had been successful in getting a substantial grant approved, which considerably increased my graduate stipend, which meant I could finally afford my own place for the first time in my life. As for Melissa, she was a nice older Hispanic lady who had advertised her house cleaning services on the community notice board in our apartment, and who was now deeply regretting her choice to agree to clean our apartment before we moved out the following week, for a measly sum of $200. Suffice it to say, Melissa received a generous tip that afternoon once she finished cleaning the apartment.

The final days before I moved out were hectic, to say the least. Santosh moved out first, and there was a lot of partying, general merriment, and eventual sadness of losing a friend to physical distance before he boarded his flight to California that weekend. I finished packing up my modest belongings in boxes that barely filled up half a U-Haul cargo van and moved to my new apartment about a mile further away from the university campus. It was definitely a cozy space, but more importantly, it was much more affordable, and it was entirely mine. Unpacking boxes took a day or two between lab work and research, and after a few trips to Target for some new apartment essentials, I was fully set up in my place a week after Melissa's comment about the lack of a significant other in my life. Melissa was not the first to point out that fact either. My friend and lab mate Henry had been trying to convince me to sign up for a dating app for at least a year. But between my long hours in the lab, teaching assignments, and coursework load, I never had the time to even think about dating.

"But that was your second year! They are always the most intense. Now that you have the fellowship, you don't have to teach anymore. Plus, no more coursework either." Henry tried to reason with me with fairly strong points after I confided in him about Melissa's remark a few days later and whined about the lack of time for companionship.

"Yes, but who would want to date me?" I grumbled back at him, exposing my utter lack of self-confidence.

"Dude, you are solid! If I wasn't already married with kids and about a decade older than you, I would totally date you." That was Brittany, another friend and lab mate of mine who had apparently not been as preoccupied with her work in the lab as I had imagined her to be. Some independent sources state that I visibly blushed upon hearing that remark, but I can neither confirm nor deny those rumors.

A few more minutes of discussion and arguments regarding this topic followed among the three of us, and in the end, I was almost forced at gunpoint to install Bumble on my phone. The next couple of hours were spent very productively setting up my personal profile, with constant debates regarding the suitability of certain prompts and the attractiveness of my pictures. Other lab mates walking in and out of the office space occasionally joined in the critiquing process. By the end of that workday, I had a pretty complete dating profile.

"Now all you have to do is start swiping on profiles. Once you match with someone, the girl has to message you first before the match expires in 24 hours." Henry was teaching me how the app worked. "Start with a few right and left swipes, and see who matches with you."

After heading back to my new tiny apartment and wrapping up a ramen dinner, I opened Bumble again on my phone with much apprehension. On my screen was the profile of a girl named Liz. She looked cute. Scrolled down a bit more. She liked running, hiking and guys with a good sense of humor, so I thought I had a good shot. Swiped right. Another profile popped up. Priya. Also a PhD student at the university. Looked attractive. Vegan, super into yoga, skiing and cocktails. Not really my kind of activities. Swiped left. On came another. A gorgeous girl named Harini. Interests included biking, board games, running and eating out. Pretty solid overlap. Swiped right. Rinse and repeat for an hour before going to bed.

I woke up much later than usual the next day, and hence, did not check my phone for missed overnight notifications until it was late morning and I was already in my lab. Among the many unimportant Twitter, Instagram, and Gmail notifications were the ones from Bumble. I had 4 matches, and 3 new messages. I could feel my pulse racing as I opened the app. The messages were from the two I mentioned previously - Liz and Harini, and one another girl - Sandra. The first two had sent generic "Hey!" and "Hello!" messages. Sandra had gone a step further and commented specifically about my love for horror movies. I liked her better already.

I will be honest and admit that that particular Thursday was not a productive workday. I started chatting with all three of them at the same time, and I realized I was finding it extremely easy to connect with all of them. Liz was starting her senior year as an undergrad studying biochemistry. Harini was trying to get into law school, and Sandra was in grad school studying to become a therapist. I was great at banter and the dad jokes, and by that evening, each one of them had separately messaged me their phone numbers asking me to text them directly. After dinner that night, I had asked them out on dates - Sandra for coffee on Saturday morning, Harini for dinner on Saturday evening, and Liz for drinks on Sunday evening. Now it was time for me to panic.

I was panicking because I had no idea what I was doing, even though I must have been doing something right to get three dates in the first week. And that was because I had never actually dated someone in the US yet. I had been on a couple of dates, if you could even call them that, with a girl in college back in India. But I hadn't felt a spark with her, and we ended up parting on friendly terms. I texted a couple of friends for advice - Henry and Dinesh, the only friend I knew who had a partner he had met through dating apps. The counsel I got from them was pretty similar - just be yourself, have fun, and offer to pay for the food/coffee/drinks. Wear comfortable clothes and shoes, and consent is important before any physical contact such as a hug or a kiss.

Friday came and went like a flash, and it was yet another unproductive day. The texts were flowing, albeit more freely with Sandra than the others. I felt like I was on one of those dating reality shows on Netflix - I had to keep track of each person's conversations: likes and dislikes, the level of flirting that they were comfortable with, what part of my life I had shared with each person so far, and so on. It was honestly exhausting because these were three extremely smart and witty women, and I had to spend a ton of mental energy to keep up with all of them. So even though it was a lot of fun, I decided that after my first dates that weekend, I would rather focus all my energy on one of the three girls if we liked each other.

Saturday's weather was a bummer. It had been raining all Friday night, and it was still pouring down that morning. I was supposed to pick up Sandra at 10 am from a bus stop near her apartment since she didn't have a car. She had been weirdly curious about what car I drove, but I chalked it up to pre-first date nervousness and an attempt at small talk. I was not looking forward to walking around in the rain, or alternatively, sitting inside a crowded coffee shop trying to hear each other over music that no one would ever hear outside of tiny coffee shops. Trying to come up with alternative locations for the date, I suddenly remembered that I had been given a membership to the science museum by Santosh as a parting gift. "Use it wisely," he had said in his gift message. Well, what wiser way to use it than to take a girl out on our first date on a rainy morning? Thanking my brain for being useful for once, I texted Sandra to check if she would be okay to meet at the museum instead of the coffee shop like we had originally planned. The response was not too enthusiastic, which was mildly concerning, but she was still okay with the change in plans.

Nervousness and anxiety were the top two things I would describe as feeling as I pulled into the bus stop to pick Sandra up. She was already waiting for me when I pulled in, which I was not surprised about since she had mentioned in her dating profile that she liked being on time for all her commitments. She was wearing a light blue floral summer dress, her face glowing with a bright smile as we made eye contact for the first time, and I was suddenly feeling very hot and sweaty despite the cold and dreary weather. I waved at her as she walked towards the car, her golden hair glistening in whatever sunlight the dark clouds had let through that morning. She settled down in the passenger seat of the car and gave me the opportunity to get a closer look at her beautiful blue eyes, subtly reflecting the blue from her dress. We hugged each other while exchanging pleasantries, and I started driving to the museum, half blushing and half melting.

The chemistry we had over texts appeared instantly when we started chatting in person too, and we utterly enjoyed being in each other's company, spending over five hours inside that tiny museum just talking. Scientific exhibits were walked past many times without even being glanced at, multiple coffees and snacks were purchased and consumed at the museum cafe, flirtatious conversations flowed, jokes were cracked, embarrassing personal and family stories were exchanged, and multiple occasions where loud laughter could be heard echoing around the museum chambers. At the end of the date, we hugged and briefly kissed while I was dropping her off at her apartment, and she promised to text me with plans for our second date soon. I drove back home, asked ChatGPT to create a text message for me with the prompt 'How do I politely cancel a first date with someone since I feel like I already met my soulmate?' and sent the response to both Liz and Harini, adding a personalized apology to the texts as well.

"Is it ok if I already feel attached to someone after our first date?" I texted Henry once I got home that evening. I then described the details of the day's happenings in subsequent texts. 

"That does sound like an amazing first date, dude!" was his reply. "Be wary of love-bombing, but don't overthink it, and go with the flow. So happy for you!" he added.

So with the flow, I went. We texted back and forth constantly over the next two days between friend meetups, grocery store trips, and laundry loads, gushing over how much we liked and missed each other. On Sunday evening, Sandra finally asked me out on a second date, wondering if I minded just coming over to her apartment the next evening and watching a horror movie after a take-out dinner, to which I readily agreed. "Sounds like a perfect evening!" I remember texting her.

Monday morning was a blur. I briefly remember waking up, being physically present in my lab, and doing something that resembled work but don't recall anything else that happened. My memory of that day starts that afternoon when I finally got back to my apartment, showered, changed into clothes more appropriate for a date night, and headed over to Sandra's apartment a few minutes away by car. As she let me into her apartment, I noticed she was dressed more casually that evening, opting for a blue flannel shirt and black jeans, still looking absolutely incredible. We kissed, more passionately this time, and settled down to munch on pizza and breadsticks. I don't even remember what we were talking about, I was lost in her eyes, and caught myself shamelessly ogling at her a couple of times. But something felt off about her that evening. She kept repeating some things she said a couple of times, seemed to have forgotten some conversations we had on Saturday morning, and her movements seemed kind of robotic. Maybe she is a little bit stressed out, I thought to myself.

"Let's move to the couch!" she said with a smile as we finished dinner. "I already purchased the movie on iTunes so we can just start watching it."

We sat on the couch close to each other while she switched the TV on. I turned to look at her gorgeous face up close, but what I saw was a face wearing an unnatural smile. Sandra turned her face towards me, her eyes glassy and expressionless, and her mouth stuck on the same smile, almost as if she was glitching. Then she opened her mouth to speak.

"Thank you for using SANDRA - Scam Artists National Division's Robot AI. Hope you have a pleasant evening. Goodbye!"

I watched in horror as the eyes and mouth on her blank and robotic face closed, and her head fell back on the couch, almost as if she/it was dead. What the fuck is happening? Then the TV started playing something.

"Hello! We have been trying to reach you regarding your car's extended warranty. Our records indicate that you have a 2020 Chevrolet Equinox..."

3 pm

Ding, dong!

The shrill noise of the doorbell broke the heavy silence that currently occupied the house at 1521 Rosewood Way, Minneapolis, Minnesota. The floor creaked as fifty-four-year-old Chinmayi Venkatesan walked from the kitchen and looked through the peephole before opening the door. She managed to catch a glimpse of the delivery UPS truck leaving the driveway. She glanced at the name of the sender as she picked up the cardboard box at the doorstep. Finish Line. “I am going to have to talk to Ram about his shoe addiction when he returns,” she thought to herself as she walked back to the kitchen.

Chinmayi got to the stove just as the water in the pot started boiling. The water hissed as she added three scoops of tea powder to the simmering pot, and the delightful smell of chai filled the house. Some minutes later, she poured a cup of whole milk into the pot and watched as the mixture inside turned a skin color. After a few more minutes, the tea was ready to be served and savored. She poured the liquid through a filter into a pastel green flask and made sure she tightened the lid. She hoped it would stay warm for the next couple of hours. She got dressed and wore her N95 mask over her face.

The hospital was a ten-minute drive away. Two months ago, she thought they would be spending this day in Tokyo. She had planned their trip perfectly to make sure she was there with Ram during the cherry blossom season. Chinmayi had made detailed itineraries for the two weeks they were scheduled to visit Japan. Alas, fate had other plans. Soon, Chinmayi was at the entrance to Prairie Medical Center. She cleared the security check at the door, where her temperature was taken to make sure she wasn’t sick. She took the elevator to the tenth floor.

“I am here to see Sriram Ganesh, “she told the receptionist at the check-in counter outside the heavy doors leading to the ICU.

“Thank you. Please wait here for a few minutes,” said the receptionist as she motioned towards the empty row of seats to her left.

Chinmayi took one of the chairs beside a large, glass window overlooking a parking garage, and carefully set the tea flask on a side table next to her. She allowed herself to lean back and gently closed her eyes. She felt a lone drop of tear rolling out of her left eye. Everything felt surreal to her. Her husband had been healthy and fit just two weeks back, as fit as any fifty-five-year old man could have been. Yet here he was, five months later, struggling to breath on his own. She glanced at her watch. twenty minutes to three. She hoped she could get inside to meet him by their usual ‘tea date’ time.

Sriram Ganesh and Chinmayi Venkatesan didn’t meet until about six months into their undergraduate degree in Trichy, India. He was a Physics major, while she was studying Biology. They got introduced through a mutual friend. Chinmayi needed help with statistics, and her friend suggested she get help from Ram. The first time they met at the tea shop next to the college, they spoke for five hours, mostly about statistics. Subsequent meetings were less about statistics and more about each other. It was love at first sight for Ram, but he wouldn’t tell her until about a month after. They went on their first date at the same tea shop they had met for the statistics help session. Since Ram took classes in the day, and Chinmayi had all her classes in the evening, 3 pm was the only time both of them were available, so that is when they decided to meet.

“Anna, rendu tea! Strong, please!” exclaimed Ram as he gestured to the owner with two fingers while they sat down. The conversation was awkward at first, both of them exuding nervous energy about this being their first official date. Eventually, they grew comfortable, and the natural chemistry they had for each other was visible to anyone who happened to glance upon them sitting together. She had grown fond of him by the time their first date ended. He was already head over heels in love with her.

Their ‘tea dates’ continued at the same tea shop for the next two years until they graduated from college. Ram then moved to the USA for his Master’s degree. Chinmayi joined him at the same university a year later for her PhD. It was a foregone conclusion that they were going to get married. It was merely a formality when he proposed to her two years later when he got his job offer. She happily said yes and kissed him on his lips. They had two weddings that year, one in India, another in the USA.

Even after getting married, the ‘tea date’ became a daily ritual. By chance, their workplaces were a five-minute drive apart. So, they almost always met at 3 pm every day for a hot cup of tea, with either Ram driving to her office, or Chinmayi driving to his. The tradition had continued on and on for more than thirty years. They decided early on not have any children, so they fostered pets and traveled the world. In the past twenty years, they had been to sixteen countries. Even during their travel abroad, they eternally had 3 pm everyday allocated for their ‘tea date’ time. They had made five visits to Japan alone. Chinmayi had fallen in love with the people and culture of Japan, Ram had fallen for the matcha green tea. And that is where they would have been today, if not for him falling sick.

They had been monitoring the spread of the virus in China, Japan and South Korea in late January and early February. Coronavirus was what they called it. Chinmayi remained hopeful that they could still visit Japan as long as they didn’t close the borders. But things were looking bleak. By late February, it was apparent that the trip would not be happening, as the disease ravaged unchecked across the world. They canceled their flights in the first week of March. Being in a higher risk category, both Chinmayi and Ram decided to stay home unless absolutely necessary, as they started hearing reports about infections in their city. One day in the second week of March, he started experiencing fits of dry coughs along with a high fever. His entire body was in tremendous pain. Ram had hoped that it was just the flu, but he secretly feared the worst. The worst it had been. He tested positive for Covid-19 two days later when he had to be taken to the hospital in an ambulance after he stopped breathing one morning. This was his tenth day at the hospital, and his second in the ICU.

It was almost 3 pm when the doctor came out of the doors leading to the ICU and told her the terrible news. Ram’s condition had worsened significantly over the past two hours, and pneumonia had ravaged his lungs. Respirators hadn’t helped, and they hadn’t been able to save him. Chinmayi fell back in her chair shocked, her arm hitting the flask as she did so, splashing tea all over the waiting area.

TL2565 watched as the counter kept flashing increasingly alarming numbers. He took a sip of hot tea from the mug on his desk and stood up from his chair. He walked along the brightly lit corridor to the office with the door sign ‘TL2’. He knocked on the door twice.

“Come in!” a deep voice answered.

“Ma’am, we lost a hundred more humans in the past ten minutes. Surely, we cannot let this continue?” TL2565 asked his superior.

TL2 sighed. She and the other time lords had been monitoring the pandemic from the very beginning. It was never intended to be so fatal. She had known for a while now that it had to be done. Something she had failed to do in 1347, 1914 and 1939 CE.

“Fine, let’s reboot 2020 CE,” she said solemnly. “This time make sure it is contained. I will deal with the repercussions, if any, from TL1.”

“As you say, ma’am.” TL2565 said as he walked to the red button on one of the walls inside the office labeled “REBOOT” and pressed it.

Ding, dong!

The shrill noise of the doorbell broke the heavy silence that currently occupied the building at 1 Chome-22-4 Horifune, Kita City, Tokyo. The floor creaked as forty-year-old Matsuri Watanabe walked from the kitchen and looked through the peephole before opening the door. She broke into a warm smile as she opened the door to greet her guests.

“Konichiwa, Mr and Mrs Sriram Ganesh, welcome to Tokyo! I am your AirBnB hostess, Matsuri Watanabe. Please come in and have a complimentary matcha tea before you head to your rooms!”

Love

Love. It is very hard isn't it? Being in love. It certainly brings unbound joy and amazing experiences on several occasions. But sometimes, it only gives you pain and sadness. And during those especially sad moments, it is incredibly painful and agonizing. You can tell fairy tales are made up simply because most of them do not talk about these hard times. They mostly focus on the happily ever afters.

 

Bright. Some of those thoughts were firing in my brain when I was walking on the trail around Stow Lake in San Francisco that Sunday afternoon. It was an incredibly bright, sunny, and fog-less day after a considerable streak of cold days, so it seemed like the entire population of the city was spending their day at Golden Gate Park. A few minutes of walking later, I found a bench far enough from the rest of the crowd, just under the shade of a large tree. I sat down and stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. I had a good view of the lake and the trail going around it. Dozens of boats were milling about the lake, each one carrying either a small group or a couple, causing a mini traffic jam every now and then. A young couple was walking their dog on the trail, waving back at the excited kids who were waving at them from some of the boats. The dog was wagging her tail displaying her own excitement and joy.

That could have been us, I thought to myself. But you screwed it all up. Now she is most likely gone, and things will never be the same.

Pain. I never thought one could feel so much pain and hurt without any physical injury or trauma. Every waking second reminded me of what I did, how I managed to lose her affection. The love of my life. My best friend. My stomach grumbled to remind me that I had skipped both breakfast and lunch that day. I had been eating erratically for the past couple of days, ever since the conflict. She wouldn't eat anything I made for her since then either. I got concerned after a few hours, and called our doctor to ask for help. He suggested that I take her to a friend's place for a change of scenery for a few days. After a lot of cajoling, I managed to drop her off at her friend Emma's place where she had been doing good for the most part.

Sleep. I turned around, stretched my legs on the bench, and closed my eyes. Sleep was my only escape from the constant pain. Not that I slept soundly the past two nights. I missed her cuddle, how she would lay on the bed next to me, hug me and put her head on my chest. It was the best feeling in the world, and I would just go straight to sleep with a smile, feeling all her love. Last night I got into bed and stared at the ceiling for a long time, eyes tired but unwilling to close. The neurons in my brain constantly firing, bringing back the memories of how badly I screwed up.

Anger. I was mad at myself for losing my mind that day. The day it all went down. I had just come home after a long and frustrating day at work, tired and hungry. She had been nagging me for something that evening, I don't recall now what it was for. But after a few minutes, I got into a fit of temper, and had screamed at her to shut up. In her shock, she knocked over my phone which was on the coffee table on to the floor, and the screen broke with a loud, cracking sound. At that point, I completely lost it, and slapped her hard on the back. I still shuddered thinking about it. That was it. She simply walked away from me to the bedroom. She wouldn't eat anything, or respond to any of my apologies. I remember how the look in her eyes changed. Something broke in her when she realized I had hit her. When I went to sleep next to her on the bed, she woke up and went to the couch. I cried to sleep that night.

Tired. I got up from the bench, and walked back to my car. As I was driving home, I remembered our road trips together. She loved traveling in the car with me, taking the highway to a distant and exciting place. Sometimes I would put my right arm on her, and she would sleep hugging my arm. I missed caressing her ear while she slept on my arm. The car still smelled like her. I missed her so much. Google Maps had detected an accident on my usual route home, so it was now redirecting me through a slightly longer route. As I stood waiting at a light, I looked around and saw that I was actually stopped next to her favorite store. The store that made the one dish she liked more than any other food in the world. Could it possibly work?

Hope. I parked my car, and got my order in for her dish. After a few minutes of waiting, I got my bag of food, and drove straight to Emma's house, texting my friend that I was on my way there. I walked in to the house, and I could see her sitting next to Emma in the living room. She saw me and turned her back towards me with deliberation. Heartbroken, I sat on the floor next to her, desperate to catch her eye. I told her I was sorry, and I would never hit her again. I told her I realized I broke her trust, and I hoped that she would forgive me and come back home with me. I then opened the bag of food I had. The smell of peanut butter filled the air in the room. I knew she could smell it too. She turned and looked at the cake I had in my hands. Then looked at me. It was full of love and forgiveness. I knew then, that she had forgiven me. I hugged her and cried.

Home. When we came home that afternoon, I told her that I loved her very much and that she was my world. I sat on the couch, and she ran to me and sat on my lap. I scratched her ear the way she liked it. She grinned at me. Later that evening, I took her to the dog park, where she met Emma again, this time in happier circumstances. They took turns chasing the ball, and she was completely spent in an hour. When I went to bed that night, she curled up next to me and put her head on my chest.

I love you Phoebe, I whispered to her. She answered back with a gentle bark of love.