I got the letter from Amina. What can I say? She’s the same wonderful person I knew all semester. She didn’t give me the word I asked for, but she managed to say the right things to give me a proper understanding of our . . . situation.
I understand this situation. A love that doesn’t get pursued, such a love. How can I be cynical? I thought that there was nothing that could prepare me for whatever news a letter could bring. I guess the anxiety of the anticipation made anything a relief. So I’m very much at ease with this, not to forget that no emotion will last.
I’m glad to have the air cleared and I’m no longer embarrassed about the mess of my feelings. She has totally endeared herself to me. What can I do? I’m just happy that she’s alive and that I know her. I’m not asking for any more.
This past semester is gone, it should sit back as happy memories. We will change as will our relationship. Fortunately, only three people know what she is to me, Frances, Amina and myself. It’s a lot of love flowing around and I won’t act like I can stop it and make it permanent. And I will always have the card she sent from the airport, and the most important words to me in her handwriting.
Thursday, June 27, 1991
Sunday, June 23, 1991
Fort Lee, NJ
I called their bluff and I’m in the apartment upstairs, not downstairs. There were probably some ulterior motives as well since their attitude changed so drastically. They are having their house re-painted and they’re buying some new furniture for what was my room, so they probably saw the benefit in my not being there. It also gave them an excuse to make me move the bed that was in that room to the office, so I even have a bed!
The walls of what was my room were all marked with oil spots where posters hung, and I had wall to wall, ceiling to floor posters on three walls which annoyed them to no end. Then sometime in 1984 I turned them all upside down, and that bothered them even more since it made me look abnormal. Then after I left for college I removed them all leaving oil blotches all over the walls. I removed them because I was de-personalizing the room, but as long as the stains were there, they were the reminder that it was my room. Not anymore.
Nasty reminders. It’s incredible how bad memories can get. It offends me to think of that house as sanctuary, where I did the main body of my growing.
The walls of what was my room were all marked with oil spots where posters hung, and I had wall to wall, ceiling to floor posters on three walls which annoyed them to no end. Then sometime in 1984 I turned them all upside down, and that bothered them even more since it made me look abnormal. Then after I left for college I removed them all leaving oil blotches all over the walls. I removed them because I was de-personalizing the room, but as long as the stains were there, they were the reminder that it was my room. Not anymore.
Nasty reminders. It’s incredible how bad memories can get. It offends me to think of that house as sanctuary, where I did the main body of my growing.
Thursday, June 13, 1991
Englewood Cliffs, NJ
Within twelve hours after arriving in New Jersey, I didn’t want to deal with anyone anymore. I just want to distance from everyone. What role do friends play in personal dramas? Do they really want to know what’s going on or do they have better things to do and worry about? They have their own problems and there’s nothing they can do about mine. So why would they want to hear about mine? Thus the distance, the trademark of my immaturity.
So the ‘rents told me there would be no problem in living in the apartment above their office so that commuting to NYU would be much easier. Suddenly they present me with the problems. Not problems, but rather what I have to do if I want to use the apartment. In the afternoons, patients sleep off anesthetics in that apartment, so I can’t be there in the afternoon. I wouldn’t have a bed. I’d have to put all my stuff in one room and get a lock for the door.
Or, in the alternative, I can use the basement apartment and they give me the key to it. No furniture, not much of a floor, they just put in a new floor but no carpeting, and this type of floor wasn’t made for the option of carpeting, it was made for carpeting. I forgot to check the plumbing, but from my overall sense of the apartment, high marks are not going to be scored there, either.
Well, if they see me fit for that apartment, fine, it’ll still beat living in their house. Which is probably exactly what they want. Keep their sphere of power and control tight. I’ll call their bluff and I’ll take the apartment.
So the ‘rents told me there would be no problem in living in the apartment above their office so that commuting to NYU would be much easier. Suddenly they present me with the problems. Not problems, but rather what I have to do if I want to use the apartment. In the afternoons, patients sleep off anesthetics in that apartment, so I can’t be there in the afternoon. I wouldn’t have a bed. I’d have to put all my stuff in one room and get a lock for the door.
Or, in the alternative, I can use the basement apartment and they give me the key to it. No furniture, not much of a floor, they just put in a new floor but no carpeting, and this type of floor wasn’t made for the option of carpeting, it was made for carpeting. I forgot to check the plumbing, but from my overall sense of the apartment, high marks are not going to be scored there, either.
Well, if they see me fit for that apartment, fine, it’ll still beat living in their house. Which is probably exactly what they want. Keep their sphere of power and control tight. I’ll call their bluff and I’ll take the apartment.
Tuesday, June 11, 1991
84 S. Park, Oberlin
Well, I’m packed and set to go back to New Jersey, the lion's den. Things are just ready to explode under a polite veneer of carefully hidden provocations and tests. But we do try to sound oh so delightfully nice to each other. Where did I get this fucked up idea that parents are supposed to be concerned about their children’s lives and futures; that they look out for their best interests? It just doesn’t work that way.
I need to latch onto people who I care about and who care about me. When things start falling apart, keep in mind that there are people who matter. Usually when things go wrong I’m focused on the negative moment and only think about myself and my own destruction. It may be just an exercise, but it might be a good defense to run people like Amina and Frances through my mind when things get hot.
I need to latch onto people who I care about and who care about me. When things start falling apart, keep in mind that there are people who matter. Usually when things go wrong I’m focused on the negative moment and only think about myself and my own destruction. It may be just an exercise, but it might be a good defense to run people like Amina and Frances through my mind when things get hot.
Monday, June 10, 1991
84 S. Park, Oberlin
I have Amina on my mind all the time now. She’s automatic. Every empty hole in my thinking is filled with Amina. Building up images and expectations. It’s dangerous. All I know about her is from one sparse semester of a really good friendship.
My hands keep going back to the card she sent from JFK and the words “I love you” that she wrote. So real and yet I keep on telling myself that it’s a misunderstanding. I do that to keep myself safe. But those words, and I remember sitting with her on the grass in Tappan Square and I remember walking back from Third World House with her arm in mine and I remember her kissing me on the cheek at the airport and I remember kissing her on the cheek at the airport, and I...
We weren’t meant to be together. She’s not in the scheme of my life. She is the tension in my life, or else what? Be happy? No fucking way. I will always reach for her, I might even touch her, but I’ll never have her and I’ll never keep her, nor would I want to. My feelings towards her are not to possess.
I wish I could get her off of my mind, though. Just forget her until I get her response. I am in love with her, though. Sometimes I think of her and my breath just goes.
My hands keep going back to the card she sent from JFK and the words “I love you” that she wrote. So real and yet I keep on telling myself that it’s a misunderstanding. I do that to keep myself safe. But those words, and I remember sitting with her on the grass in Tappan Square and I remember walking back from Third World House with her arm in mine and I remember her kissing me on the cheek at the airport and I remember kissing her on the cheek at the airport, and I...
We weren’t meant to be together. She’s not in the scheme of my life. She is the tension in my life, or else what? Be happy? No fucking way. I will always reach for her, I might even touch her, but I’ll never have her and I’ll never keep her, nor would I want to. My feelings towards her are not to possess.
I wish I could get her off of my mind, though. Just forget her until I get her response. I am in love with her, though. Sometimes I think of her and my breath just goes.
Sunday, June 09, 1991
84 S. Park, Oberlin
Still in front of the computer working on an outline for my second paper for Modern Japan. I hate this.
Hours inside, lit by incandescent light, lit by computer screen, contemplating gender stereotypes and the post-war psychology behind them in a country currently very much in daylight.
And then I walk out the front door and awestruck by the waning crescent moon. How rare to see it, usually being asleep when it’s lit on the left side. So thin and the sky already a deep indigo and only the brightest of stars visible, yellow and looking so fake so low over the horizon. Thought of Amina far over that horizon.
Take my breath away to save that image forever.
Breath taken, image saved, what about samurai values still being expressed through mass media? Any connection with worshiping women’s feet? Hey, I’m onto something now.
Hours inside, lit by incandescent light, lit by computer screen, contemplating gender stereotypes and the post-war psychology behind them in a country currently very much in daylight.
And then I walk out the front door and awestruck by the waning crescent moon. How rare to see it, usually being asleep when it’s lit on the left side. So thin and the sky already a deep indigo and only the brightest of stars visible, yellow and looking so fake so low over the horizon. Thought of Amina far over that horizon.
Take my breath away to save that image forever.
Breath taken, image saved, what about samurai values still being expressed through mass media? Any connection with worshiping women’s feet? Hey, I’m onto something now.
Friday, June 07, 1991
84 S. Park, Oberlin
I’m still trying to get words onto the computer screen for those incompletes. I’m so worthless. I’m changing sentences because they don’t fit right on the screen. Well, maybe I’m not that bad, but I think about it.
I hate my life with all the various expectations on me and all I’m trying to do is figure out what kind of person I’m to be. The ‘rents thwart that effort time and again. They’ve never recognized themselves as the problem nor do they realize that they still are. They’ve been the cause of some difficult situations. But as messily as I handled them, I think back and realize how much worse I could have handled them.
Something has to happen. Something has to change. But how do I change if they don’t? For a while I was thinking how little right I have to complain. They aren’t hitting me or being outright, intentionally malicious. They provide and pay for me in full. But what I’m doing is just swinging to the complete other side of the argument, the side in their favor. For every argument giving them the benefit of doubt, there’s a counter-argument that invalidates or overrides it.
The ways that they abuse their wealth and privilege and aren’t even aware of it. It’s disgusting, sad. I sit and wonder whether my life would have fallen apart without all the things they literally bought. Things that make it feel as if I’ve been bought.
That’s how they see it. Money means so much to them and that is how they express their love. But money is money and love is love, and if you think one is the other, you find that the receipts just don’t add up. People see their money surrounding me and see no reason why I shouldn’t be glad for what I’ve got. As if I owe them something.
People say they’re not bad. I sit and ponder what they’ve done to my life. Some things I can readily identify, many more I’m sure I won’t discover until later. Is it a coincidence that I’ve just given up on music and that is exactly what they’ve always wanted? It’s a strong position of power parents have, and they’ve put a psychological stranglehold on all my interests until there’s only one option left.
Clever. They don’t do anything. They don’t have to do anything in a mind-play. They never say, “No, you can’t”. But they know and they wait until the only option I have left is business school or law school and thank god I don’t have the merit for those options or I’d have a bullet in my head by the time I’m twenty-six.
Money works for them, so they think it’ll work on me. They’re counting on my greed and material comfort to get what they want. Bastards. But it’s my life and unlike them I can take or leave it as I please.
I hate my life with all the various expectations on me and all I’m trying to do is figure out what kind of person I’m to be. The ‘rents thwart that effort time and again. They’ve never recognized themselves as the problem nor do they realize that they still are. They’ve been the cause of some difficult situations. But as messily as I handled them, I think back and realize how much worse I could have handled them.
Something has to happen. Something has to change. But how do I change if they don’t? For a while I was thinking how little right I have to complain. They aren’t hitting me or being outright, intentionally malicious. They provide and pay for me in full. But what I’m doing is just swinging to the complete other side of the argument, the side in their favor. For every argument giving them the benefit of doubt, there’s a counter-argument that invalidates or overrides it.
The ways that they abuse their wealth and privilege and aren’t even aware of it. It’s disgusting, sad. I sit and wonder whether my life would have fallen apart without all the things they literally bought. Things that make it feel as if I’ve been bought.
That’s how they see it. Money means so much to them and that is how they express their love. But money is money and love is love, and if you think one is the other, you find that the receipts just don’t add up. People see their money surrounding me and see no reason why I shouldn’t be glad for what I’ve got. As if I owe them something.
People say they’re not bad. I sit and ponder what they’ve done to my life. Some things I can readily identify, many more I’m sure I won’t discover until later. Is it a coincidence that I’ve just given up on music and that is exactly what they’ve always wanted? It’s a strong position of power parents have, and they’ve put a psychological stranglehold on all my interests until there’s only one option left.
Clever. They don’t do anything. They don’t have to do anything in a mind-play. They never say, “No, you can’t”. But they know and they wait until the only option I have left is business school or law school and thank god I don’t have the merit for those options or I’d have a bullet in my head by the time I’m twenty-six.
Money works for them, so they think it’ll work on me. They’re counting on my greed and material comfort to get what they want. Bastards. But it’s my life and unlike them I can take or leave it as I please.
Thursday, June 06, 1991
84 S. Park St., Oberlin
I just erased all the May and June entries up to now. They were just too emotionally high strung from the stress; lots of bitching. I didn’t like how they described what I was going through. Those times are probably better reflected upon in retrospect.
Amina dominated the month of May. She actually dominated the entire semester in a more subtle way, but obviously I was in denial since I didn’t mention her until the end of April. It feels like Amina has been in my life a long time, and the time when she wasn’t in my life was a long, long time ago. It was just last semester that she wasn’t in my life.
Last semester, with Myung as my housemate, feels like ancient history. I do remember seeing Amina in Third World House early last semester. I’ll never forget it. It was in the foyer and she was walking through, I was hanging out or something. My first sight of her was her profile, she was wearing a brown coat, and I saw her and the words “most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen” flashed in my mind.
She started eating at Veggie at the end of the semester and I remember being excited about that, and I shamelessly put myself in her presence and was openly friendly so that she would be in the crowd I usually sat with. Of course I resisted any thought of being interested in her, I staved off any hope that we could be closer. I had no idea that I would grow to feel the way I feel about her now.
She was away in Chicago for Winter Term when Ken and I were recording. We didn’t write or anything and I don’t even remember when she came back. At that point we were only acquaintances, but we were friendly and the watercolors she did over Winter Term were an excuse to hang out with her. Shameless.
It all started with the “Moons for Goons” class we had together. I can’t believe I didn’t mention Amina at all through this. I didn’t notice that she was at the first class. It was when I was walking down to Veggie for lunch that she came up from behind, calling me. It was cold and overcast, and I was pleased as punch that she was in the class. We had class three times a week and always sat together and almost always walked down to Veggie together afterwards.
Dinners we ate together and I still can’t believe that wasn’t enough to warrant mentioning her in here. We were good friends by Spring Break. We didn’t have “Moons for Goons” the week before Break, so we didn’t have that time together. I know I was feeling something by then, but still trying to deny and repress it.
By her birthday in April, I know I was trying to get her to like me and endear myself to her. I gave her a Calvin & Hobbes book and wrote something in it about meeting in San Francisco after Oberlin. All in affectionate fun. But I knew she had a boyfriend by that time, too.
She went to visit her lifelong and best friend, Anjum, at Allegheny College on the first weekend of May. She left on Friday morning, so she missed “Moons for Goons” and I remember not being able to pay attention because I was missing her and couldn’t stop thinking about her.
She had gone by bus, and I couldn’t believe that her return trip was going to have her wait three hours in Cleveland at the slimy bus station there, and then it would arrive in Elyria so late that she would have to call a taxi to get back to Oberlin.
I wasn’t going to have that, so I told her to call me on Saturday to arrange for me to pick her up in Cleveland. The problem was that my car was dead. I tried to get it fixed in time, but they couldn’t do it, so I asked Kyung if I could borrow his car. I don’t know Kyung that well, just that he is one of Myung’s best friends here, and he said, “sure” in a way only Kyung can. An odd pigeon he.
I wasn’t home when she called on Saturday, but she left a message. When I heard her voice on the machine, my heart gave me a swift kick in the ass. It occurred to me at that moment how great much I was in love with her and had been all along. I was already there, but that message really woke me up to the fact.
I went to pick her up at 9:30 at night, the time she told me to go, and I only had to wait a few minutes before she got off the bus. At which point she apologized for having told me the wrong time, it was supposed to arrive at 9:00 but was delayed half an hour. “But you didn’t tell me the wrong time.” And it was perfect anyway.
To see her again after the big realization was a tad overwhelming, but still I knew she had a boyfriend and I wasn’t going to push anything or make anything uncomfortable by making my feelings known. I committed myself to keep it on the inside and not let her ever know.
The semester was winding down to its inevitable end, and very soon after that, I went over to Amina’s room in Third World House to study for one of the last quizzes for “Moons”. It was very friendly and almost intimate and we studied and chatted until it got late and later.
She looked tired, I was tired, it was late, we were comfortable, I asked her if she wanted to get some sleep, purposely avoiding asking her directly if she wanted me to leave. She said, “...no,” so cute and sweet my heart fluttered. So we kept on what we were doing, slowing down, several times I mentioned that I guess I should be going, but it never happened. In a half-daze the night turned into morning, it was just beautiful and peaceful and wonderful and I couldn’t believe it was happening.
I dropped off at about 6:00-ish, it was getting light outside, and I think she did, too. The lights were still on. Maybe it was earlier. She managed to get up and out for her morning classes. I woke up to an empty room at around 8:30 and decided to skip my first two classes.
I was stunned for the next two days, and that’s when discomfort and uncertainty crept into our relationship, after all she still had a boyfriend. It was the tension of an attraction, coupled with the fact she had a boyfriend and my resolution to not interfere with their relationship. I was constantly grappling with myself to detach. Perhaps that came across as coldness on my part, I don’t know.
But a distance set in and it started driving me crazy. I wanted to make things clear between us and save our friendship that had become so very precious. Unfortunately my attempts at clarity just made things muddier. I was trying to convey that I wanted to respect her relationship with her boyfriend because I respected her, but instead I said something about assuming a distance and . . . it just came out all wrong. I think it sounded like our closeness had been fake.
But the communication was for the better and our friendship wasn’t irreparably damaged. At least it still existed. She continued to be cold and distant through reading and exam period, and sometimes she was outright insensitive. We were going through exam stress, and her return to Karachi after exams was a looming fact.
But then she finished her assignments and exams and there were only four days until she left the country. Four days that have completely dominated my perception of our relationship and my feelings towards her. Four days overshadowed weeks, but that’s how it is in love. Four huge days where we spent so much time together. I don’t know why things changed so much in those four days. It never occurred to me that she was getting any closer, I thought that she just sensed my feelings regarding her departure and she was just being kind.
We picked up Anjum from the train station on Monday morning, the day before they were to leave together. Anjum hadn’t gotten any sleep, and so when we got back to Amina’s room, she went to sleep and Amina and I went into her roommate’s part of the room and talked more.
She needed to run some errands and I went to deliver Art and Amitabh to the airport. When I got back from the airport, I delivered Anjum and Amina to Neelam’s house since they had to leave the dorms and that’s where they were staying for the night. Afterwards I seem to recall a Can Consortium rehearsal and delivering Gil to the Inn to catch a bus.
I got back to my apartment to two incredibly cute messages from Amina on the machine. A bunch of us, Pasha, Amina, Anjum, Neelam, Ethan, and Tushu, were gonna cook and have dinner at my place that night. It was a delightful evening that passed into night, it almost felt like family and I was so in love with Amina.
Tushu wanted to listen to music, Pasha wanted to talk. Anjum took a nap in my room, and eventually people started dispersing. Amina had promised to visit Jenny before she left, so after walking Anjum and Neelam to Neelam’s house, Pasha, Amina, and I walked over to Third World House where Jenny was cleaning dorm rooms.
We weren’t there long. While walking home, Amina slipped her arm in mine and I pressed it close. Why am I reliving this? The details are so vivid. Pasha the third wheel among us. When we got back to my place, we convinced Pasha to stay while I walked Amina back to Neelam’s house. We walked very slowly.
Returning to my place alone, I felt like my world was falling apart. Walking on the moon. I stayed up a little while compiling songs for a mix tape for Amina, but then decided to get a little sleep, an hour and half.
I went over to Neelam’s at 5:00. The door was locked and so I just waited outside until she came downstairs which I knew she would. There was no hiding my sadness, I didn’t even try. She couldn’t find her jacket with her walkman in it. We left without them and I told her to take my walkman. I forced my energy up. No depression, no sadness, I didn’t want to go to the airport moping.
At the airport I dropped them off at the curb and went to park the car. I rushed to meet up with them and then it was a short walk to the gate, too short. The plane was already boarding. We hugged and I held her tight. Anjum was standing there waiting, so I said, “Anjum, I can’t let go of her”. But I did. We kissed each other on the cheek almost simultaneously as if it were the most natural thing for us to do, as if we had been doing it all along.
It was a long walk back to my car, leaving a trail of pieces of a broken heart and rushed because I was afraid of crying. I managed to hold back until I was on the highway.
I got home at about 6:45 and stayed awake because I knew Pasha would be waking soon and I had to take him and Tushu to get their work papers in Cleveland. Neelam came along, too. We dropped Pasha and Tushu off at the INS and Neelam and I went to the East Asian grocery stores.
Amina was all I could think about and I was mentioning her name right and left, even though no one knew or cared about what I felt about her. It’s not that I was trying to talk about her, she had just become so much a part of my semester that for every topic that came up, I had an association with Amina.
Tushu and Pasha got their papers and we decided to go to Coventry to look around and have lunch. They paid. That’s why they suddenly started talking in Bengali. We wandered for a bit and then headed back to Oberlin. We got back at about 14:30 and I went straight to sleep in the bed that Anjum had took a nap in, and Anjum was Amina’s best friend and was with her right now.
Pasha wasn’t home when I woke up several hours later when Amina called from JFK. God, I needed that, just to hear her voice. It put my feet back on the ground. Amina was real and I was very much in love with her. It really lifted my spirits, but then at 22:00 I crashed again because I remembered that was the time her flight was scheduled to leave New York.
I started a letter to her. I had to mention that I love her and I apologized for it and admitted that I appreciated her being kind to me in the last days; I was sure she was just being kind. I sent the letter the next day, Wednesday, and then on Thursday, as I half expected, I received something from her which she had sent from JFK.
She wrote something that totally knocked the wind out of me. She ended the card with, “Did I mention that I love you? I do.” I melted and tortured myself pondering the many ways that could be interpreted. There weren’t many ways. I discussed it all with Frances and she was a big help.
So then I wrote a letter which spilled all the beans. I clarified that thing about disrespecting her relationship with her boyfriend that I had flubbed weeks ago in Tappan Square. I also told her that I stand by it, I don’t know why I did that.
If she really does love me, she can tell me so. If she never meant it that way, then I gave her an out. I did the right thing, I guess. I’m still waiting for a reply. It takes three weeks for a correspondence to go one way to Pakistan. I’ve got a long wait. I’ve sent four letters in the last two and a half weeks. Things are going to cross.
I’m prepared for anything. I guess writing the letter the way I did was also preparation for me in case the news is bad. Amina’s not going to be at Oberlin in the Fall, she’ll be on the Dublin program. Ireland.
I’m still in Oberlin because I have two incompletes. I decided to drop one and I’m starting to doubt whether or not I can finish this remaining one. This summer is going to be a challenge. Things are pretty bad with the ‘rents and I can foresee things exploding. Very tense.
I’m taking summer school at NYU and I don’t want to stay at their house. They have an apartment above their office I can use, but they need it every day to let patients sleep off anesthesia. Lots and lots of problems. I don’t want to stick around after school is over, either, but I don’t have anywhere to go.
Amina dominated the month of May. She actually dominated the entire semester in a more subtle way, but obviously I was in denial since I didn’t mention her until the end of April. It feels like Amina has been in my life a long time, and the time when she wasn’t in my life was a long, long time ago. It was just last semester that she wasn’t in my life.
Last semester, with Myung as my housemate, feels like ancient history. I do remember seeing Amina in Third World House early last semester. I’ll never forget it. It was in the foyer and she was walking through, I was hanging out or something. My first sight of her was her profile, she was wearing a brown coat, and I saw her and the words “most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen” flashed in my mind.
She started eating at Veggie at the end of the semester and I remember being excited about that, and I shamelessly put myself in her presence and was openly friendly so that she would be in the crowd I usually sat with. Of course I resisted any thought of being interested in her, I staved off any hope that we could be closer. I had no idea that I would grow to feel the way I feel about her now.
She was away in Chicago for Winter Term when Ken and I were recording. We didn’t write or anything and I don’t even remember when she came back. At that point we were only acquaintances, but we were friendly and the watercolors she did over Winter Term were an excuse to hang out with her. Shameless.
It all started with the “Moons for Goons” class we had together. I can’t believe I didn’t mention Amina at all through this. I didn’t notice that she was at the first class. It was when I was walking down to Veggie for lunch that she came up from behind, calling me. It was cold and overcast, and I was pleased as punch that she was in the class. We had class three times a week and always sat together and almost always walked down to Veggie together afterwards.
Dinners we ate together and I still can’t believe that wasn’t enough to warrant mentioning her in here. We were good friends by Spring Break. We didn’t have “Moons for Goons” the week before Break, so we didn’t have that time together. I know I was feeling something by then, but still trying to deny and repress it.
By her birthday in April, I know I was trying to get her to like me and endear myself to her. I gave her a Calvin & Hobbes book and wrote something in it about meeting in San Francisco after Oberlin. All in affectionate fun. But I knew she had a boyfriend by that time, too.
She went to visit her lifelong and best friend, Anjum, at Allegheny College on the first weekend of May. She left on Friday morning, so she missed “Moons for Goons” and I remember not being able to pay attention because I was missing her and couldn’t stop thinking about her.
She had gone by bus, and I couldn’t believe that her return trip was going to have her wait three hours in Cleveland at the slimy bus station there, and then it would arrive in Elyria so late that she would have to call a taxi to get back to Oberlin.
I wasn’t going to have that, so I told her to call me on Saturday to arrange for me to pick her up in Cleveland. The problem was that my car was dead. I tried to get it fixed in time, but they couldn’t do it, so I asked Kyung if I could borrow his car. I don’t know Kyung that well, just that he is one of Myung’s best friends here, and he said, “sure” in a way only Kyung can. An odd pigeon he.
I wasn’t home when she called on Saturday, but she left a message. When I heard her voice on the machine, my heart gave me a swift kick in the ass. It occurred to me at that moment how great much I was in love with her and had been all along. I was already there, but that message really woke me up to the fact.
I went to pick her up at 9:30 at night, the time she told me to go, and I only had to wait a few minutes before she got off the bus. At which point she apologized for having told me the wrong time, it was supposed to arrive at 9:00 but was delayed half an hour. “But you didn’t tell me the wrong time.” And it was perfect anyway.
To see her again after the big realization was a tad overwhelming, but still I knew she had a boyfriend and I wasn’t going to push anything or make anything uncomfortable by making my feelings known. I committed myself to keep it on the inside and not let her ever know.
The semester was winding down to its inevitable end, and very soon after that, I went over to Amina’s room in Third World House to study for one of the last quizzes for “Moons”. It was very friendly and almost intimate and we studied and chatted until it got late and later.
She looked tired, I was tired, it was late, we were comfortable, I asked her if she wanted to get some sleep, purposely avoiding asking her directly if she wanted me to leave. She said, “...no,” so cute and sweet my heart fluttered. So we kept on what we were doing, slowing down, several times I mentioned that I guess I should be going, but it never happened. In a half-daze the night turned into morning, it was just beautiful and peaceful and wonderful and I couldn’t believe it was happening.
I dropped off at about 6:00-ish, it was getting light outside, and I think she did, too. The lights were still on. Maybe it was earlier. She managed to get up and out for her morning classes. I woke up to an empty room at around 8:30 and decided to skip my first two classes.
I was stunned for the next two days, and that’s when discomfort and uncertainty crept into our relationship, after all she still had a boyfriend. It was the tension of an attraction, coupled with the fact she had a boyfriend and my resolution to not interfere with their relationship. I was constantly grappling with myself to detach. Perhaps that came across as coldness on my part, I don’t know.
But a distance set in and it started driving me crazy. I wanted to make things clear between us and save our friendship that had become so very precious. Unfortunately my attempts at clarity just made things muddier. I was trying to convey that I wanted to respect her relationship with her boyfriend because I respected her, but instead I said something about assuming a distance and . . . it just came out all wrong. I think it sounded like our closeness had been fake.
But the communication was for the better and our friendship wasn’t irreparably damaged. At least it still existed. She continued to be cold and distant through reading and exam period, and sometimes she was outright insensitive. We were going through exam stress, and her return to Karachi after exams was a looming fact.
But then she finished her assignments and exams and there were only four days until she left the country. Four days that have completely dominated my perception of our relationship and my feelings towards her. Four days overshadowed weeks, but that’s how it is in love. Four huge days where we spent so much time together. I don’t know why things changed so much in those four days. It never occurred to me that she was getting any closer, I thought that she just sensed my feelings regarding her departure and she was just being kind.
We picked up Anjum from the train station on Monday morning, the day before they were to leave together. Anjum hadn’t gotten any sleep, and so when we got back to Amina’s room, she went to sleep and Amina and I went into her roommate’s part of the room and talked more.
She needed to run some errands and I went to deliver Art and Amitabh to the airport. When I got back from the airport, I delivered Anjum and Amina to Neelam’s house since they had to leave the dorms and that’s where they were staying for the night. Afterwards I seem to recall a Can Consortium rehearsal and delivering Gil to the Inn to catch a bus.
I got back to my apartment to two incredibly cute messages from Amina on the machine. A bunch of us, Pasha, Amina, Anjum, Neelam, Ethan, and Tushu, were gonna cook and have dinner at my place that night. It was a delightful evening that passed into night, it almost felt like family and I was so in love with Amina.
Tushu wanted to listen to music, Pasha wanted to talk. Anjum took a nap in my room, and eventually people started dispersing. Amina had promised to visit Jenny before she left, so after walking Anjum and Neelam to Neelam’s house, Pasha, Amina, and I walked over to Third World House where Jenny was cleaning dorm rooms.
We weren’t there long. While walking home, Amina slipped her arm in mine and I pressed it close. Why am I reliving this? The details are so vivid. Pasha the third wheel among us. When we got back to my place, we convinced Pasha to stay while I walked Amina back to Neelam’s house. We walked very slowly.
Returning to my place alone, I felt like my world was falling apart. Walking on the moon. I stayed up a little while compiling songs for a mix tape for Amina, but then decided to get a little sleep, an hour and half.
I went over to Neelam’s at 5:00. The door was locked and so I just waited outside until she came downstairs which I knew she would. There was no hiding my sadness, I didn’t even try. She couldn’t find her jacket with her walkman in it. We left without them and I told her to take my walkman. I forced my energy up. No depression, no sadness, I didn’t want to go to the airport moping.
At the airport I dropped them off at the curb and went to park the car. I rushed to meet up with them and then it was a short walk to the gate, too short. The plane was already boarding. We hugged and I held her tight. Anjum was standing there waiting, so I said, “Anjum, I can’t let go of her”. But I did. We kissed each other on the cheek almost simultaneously as if it were the most natural thing for us to do, as if we had been doing it all along.
It was a long walk back to my car, leaving a trail of pieces of a broken heart and rushed because I was afraid of crying. I managed to hold back until I was on the highway.
I got home at about 6:45 and stayed awake because I knew Pasha would be waking soon and I had to take him and Tushu to get their work papers in Cleveland. Neelam came along, too. We dropped Pasha and Tushu off at the INS and Neelam and I went to the East Asian grocery stores.
Amina was all I could think about and I was mentioning her name right and left, even though no one knew or cared about what I felt about her. It’s not that I was trying to talk about her, she had just become so much a part of my semester that for every topic that came up, I had an association with Amina.
Tushu and Pasha got their papers and we decided to go to Coventry to look around and have lunch. They paid. That’s why they suddenly started talking in Bengali. We wandered for a bit and then headed back to Oberlin. We got back at about 14:30 and I went straight to sleep in the bed that Anjum had took a nap in, and Anjum was Amina’s best friend and was with her right now.
Pasha wasn’t home when I woke up several hours later when Amina called from JFK. God, I needed that, just to hear her voice. It put my feet back on the ground. Amina was real and I was very much in love with her. It really lifted my spirits, but then at 22:00 I crashed again because I remembered that was the time her flight was scheduled to leave New York.
I started a letter to her. I had to mention that I love her and I apologized for it and admitted that I appreciated her being kind to me in the last days; I was sure she was just being kind. I sent the letter the next day, Wednesday, and then on Thursday, as I half expected, I received something from her which she had sent from JFK.
She wrote something that totally knocked the wind out of me. She ended the card with, “Did I mention that I love you? I do.” I melted and tortured myself pondering the many ways that could be interpreted. There weren’t many ways. I discussed it all with Frances and she was a big help.
So then I wrote a letter which spilled all the beans. I clarified that thing about disrespecting her relationship with her boyfriend that I had flubbed weeks ago in Tappan Square. I also told her that I stand by it, I don’t know why I did that.
If she really does love me, she can tell me so. If she never meant it that way, then I gave her an out. I did the right thing, I guess. I’m still waiting for a reply. It takes three weeks for a correspondence to go one way to Pakistan. I’ve got a long wait. I’ve sent four letters in the last two and a half weeks. Things are going to cross.
I’m prepared for anything. I guess writing the letter the way I did was also preparation for me in case the news is bad. Amina’s not going to be at Oberlin in the Fall, she’ll be on the Dublin program. Ireland.
I’m still in Oberlin because I have two incompletes. I decided to drop one and I’m starting to doubt whether or not I can finish this remaining one. This summer is going to be a challenge. Things are pretty bad with the ‘rents and I can foresee things exploding. Very tense.
I’m taking summer school at NYU and I don’t want to stay at their house. They have an apartment above their office I can use, but they need it every day to let patients sleep off anesthesia. Lots and lots of problems. I don’t want to stick around after school is over, either, but I don’t have anywhere to go.
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