The West Village

Disha walked up the steps and into the cloudy New York evening. She was half surprised and half pleased that he'd called her randomly to say that he was in New York and wanted to catch up. The rest of her friends who had since moved out of the city hadn't bothered to keep in touch at all. After spending the summer being interns together, this would be the first time they would meet. She didn't know that it would also be the last.

After a few minutes of being vaguely lost, she caught sight of him waving from the corner of the next intersection. She smiled, waved back, and hurried over to give him a hug.

"I know I said just coffee, but its getting late and I'm betting you haven't had dinner."

"Sounds lovely, I was hoping there would be some food involved. Did you have to wait long?"

"Nah I was just sitting in that restaurant down there. They're going to have a live band coming on soon, would you like to go there and get something to eat?"

"Sure."

Disha followed him into the crowded but cosy candlelit place. The band had just started up with some soft jazz.

"So how has life been?" she quietly cursed at herself for not thinking of anything less cliche to say.

"Its been good...work as usual, you know how it is, old friends asking me generic questions in the one hour that I get to meet them..." They both laughed.

Disha smiled, in that instant they went back to being the interns who goofed around the office. It was as though they picked up their playful banter right from where they left it when they went their separate ways at the end of the summer. Disha thought back to the lunch that they had on the last day of work...

"So any sweethearts back home?" he had asked

"No, I left all the sweethearts behind when I left the country. Long distance is no good."

"So here then?"

"Its hard when the American boys just want to mess around, and the Indian boys are like children when it comes to relationships. Seriously, how difficult is it to find a desi who has an ounce of relationship experience and doesn't sound like he works for Technical support?"

"Oh, I wouldn't think its *that* hard. But you just can't seem to keep the desperate dance-floor-grinding types off you huh"

"Yeah, after all, how often do you find a hot Indian girl with an American perspective making her own living in NY?"

"Just as often as you find a nice Indian guy who isn't a relationship novice?"

"Touche."

"What are we doing in the west anyway?"

Disha didn't comprehend the flow of conversation. She found herself pulled back to the candlelit restaurant, he was actually asking her a serious question.

"I don't know, we probably just went with the flow during all of the decisions that actually mattered. And then we probably justified it with something silly like 'take every day as it comes and it will work out' "

Much conversation and a couple of drinks later, it was time to leave. Disha asked the waiter to take a picture of them on her digital camera right before they left the restaurant. He insisted on paying, which wasn't normal, but Disha didn't want to offend him.

He offered to walk her to the subway stop. As Disha turned to say her last goodbye before walking down into the station, she was surprised to see an entirely novel expression on his face. Within a split second she realized what it was and she gulped. Not again. She hated this part.

"Listen, Disha, there is something that I need to say. I know I don't live in New York and that you don't like long distance and that its probably not going to work, but I have to say it anyway. I've had a crush on you ever since the summer, but never got a good chance to ask you out properly. I was hoping I could do that now."

"You're right."

"I am?"

"Yeah, its not going to work. Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression."

"No, its just wishful thinking on my part. I just had to get it off my chest. If you ever get tired enough of your Tech support suitors you can give me a call."

Even in this awkward situation, Disha managed a smile. "Sure thing."