He’s not wrong about the dorms; I’m paying an arm and a leg for an off-campus single just to escape communal showers. “Itisa glorious view,” I agree. It’s approaching sunset, so the water looks especially vast and expansive.
“Thank you!” says a pleasant voice behind me. I turn to see a petite Black girl with impeccable winged liner join Michael’s side. “Seeing as it’s actuallymyapartment.”
Michael gives a dramatic huff, but his arm slides around her to hug hello regardless. “Rani, meet Noelle. She’s subleasing from me since I’m living at home for the summer.”
“To give all this up for Gilmore,” Noelle says, voice full of wonderment. “Astonishing, truly.”
“Sorry that I like my family,” Michael returns.
She gasps, mock hurt. “My mommy issues arenota joking matter.”
Another voice sounds from down the hall. “Not even one drink in, and we’re already talking Noelle’s mommy issues?”
The voice belongs to a curly-haired Desi girl wearing dangling gold jhumkas. I make a mental note to ask for the brand later and can’t help but think that it feels very true to English-major culture that everyone in this apartment has great style.
“Michael’s being cruel,” Noelle explains to her.
“What else is new?” she says. She notices me and gives a warm smile. “You must be Michael’s coworker! I’m Zara.”
“My roommate,” Michael elaborates.
“Myroommate,” Noelle corrects.
“I’m Rani!” I say, my voice adopting the nervous chirp it often does around new people. I clear my throat. “All three of you have a beautiful apartment.”
Zara giggles. “Diplomatic,” she says. She points at the wine bottle still in my hand. “Should we open that?”
But it turns out that we’re running late for the event, and since Noelle needs to get there in time to provide opening remarks, we pour wine into our water bottles and make the fifteen-minute walk to campus. It’s perfect weather; a warm breeze flutters through my loose hair as we stroll. Noelle provides a brief explainer on her aforementioned family troubles as we drink—her mother’s getting remarried soon, and Noelle couldn’t be more displeased with the groom.
“He’s anactor,” she explains, lip curling. “InSeattle. So also known as unemployed.” She takes a long sip of merlot. “My mom is a physicist. What could they possibly have in common?”
“Love,” Michael suggests.
Noelle ignores this. “She’s clearly going through a midlife crisis. I refuse to watch.”
“Didn’t you agree to be her maid of honor?” Zara says, mouth twitching.
“I mean, I’m not going to boycott her wedding,” Noelle says, defensive. “But I’m allowed to be mad about it.” There’s a pause. “Plus, my dress is way too gorgeous not to wear.”
Zara shakes her head, exasperated and amused. Noelle clapsher hands, ready to move on from the subject. “So, Rani, how are you feeling about starting at UW? Hope Michael hasn’t turned you off from us yet.”
Michael pulls a wounded look. I laugh. “I’m really looking forward to it,” I say. “I missed Seattle a lot this past year. And the English department sounds super lovely.”
“Itislovely,” Zara agrees. “And it’ll be so nice to have another Indian girl in the program. That brings our number up to three!”
Noelle frowns. “Don’t you mean four?”
Zara’s lips thin. “I don’t claim Priya.”
“Priya beat Zara for the creative writing prize last year,” Michael explains to me in a whisper.
“Is it beating if she cheated?”
“It’s her name on the website, no?”
Zara swats Michael, and I can’t help but smile at the sibling-like bickering. They have a type of friendship I’ve only ever shared with Simran, the kind I longed for all of freshman year. I feel a rush of gratitude that I reached out to Michael about today, and that he in turn invited me into their orbit.
“She stole my idea, structure, narration style, everything. So we no longer associate.” We’ve reached the entrance of the coffeehouse patio, and Zara’s voice drops in accordance. “Let’s grab a seat, yeah?”
