"Heeey," said Jay from the doorway, and he had Doug with him. "Look who I found." Doug said hello and the girls answered.
Sejal supposed it was the sun allergy that made Doug always look better at night. He wasn’t wearing the same clothes he’d left in, and these new clothes were less than flattering — the T-shirt, in particular, looked like the sort of thing you’d get free for opening a checking account. Still, there was something very ripe and alive about Doug now.
"His clothes got all sweaty from the bike ride. So he stopped at his house on the way back. That’s what took him so long," said Jay. Doug said and did nothing to confirm or deny any of it. He stood calmly in the doorway as though waiting to be invited in.
"What did we miss?" asked Jay finally as he went and sat down beside Cat.
"Whole lotta nothin’. They’re just fartin’ around San Diego."
"Good."
"Good?"
"Yeah, I mean…I didn’t want to miss it if they caught him."
Doug had taken a seat behind the rest of them, but Sejal could feel his eyes on her. She stole a glance and regretted it — he was gazing at her, all right. That’s the word for it, she thought. He is gazing. The light of desperation, that faltering candle, was gone from his eyes. Now they were steady, warm, and even, and Sejal couldn’t explain the chill that seized in her chest.
"Excuse me," she said, and left the room.
The hall bathroom did not lock. She didn’t really have to go, but she hiked down her pants and underwear nonetheless, going through the motions as though the dance itself might bring rain. She sat on the toilet and tried to work out why a girl from a house where people did not lock doors might now have groped every inch of a bald doorknob for something to turn or press. What was wrong with her? This was only Doug.
After what seemed the right amount of time she rose, dressed, washed her hands, and opened the door to where Doug stood in the hallway. She had to make an effort not to laugh or scream.
"I need to talk to you outside a minute," said Doug.
Sejal stood silently for a moment, then sighed and followed him through the kitchen and out the back door. Across the deck, down stairs into the yard, he stopped by a weathered swing set. Sejal sat on one of the swings and curled her arms around the chains, because who could come so close to a swing set without sitting on a swing? But Doug stood before her.
"That’s perfect," he said. "You on that swing set." He didn’t elaborate on what was perfect about it. "I just wanted to tell you that things are going to be different now. I’m a different person than I was when you met me."
"That is…remarkable," said Sejal. "I met you only a week ago, no?"
The moonlight touched off a single cold spark in each of his eyes, and it was only now that Sejal realized Doug was not wearing his glasses. Sejal had had a good look at those lenses before, at the Coke-bottle curves of the glass, so now she relaxed, no longer clothed in the scratchy self-awareness that comes from being on display. There was no way Doug could see anything but smears of color. His familiarity with Jay’s house had been a good cover, but he was blind as a bat.
"A lot can happen in a week. A lot has happened to me just tonight — I’ll tell you all the details someday, but it can wait for now. I just want you to understand that we can take things slowly if you want, I have all the time in the world."
Dating is not allowed in my country, Sejal repeated in her thoughts. It’s against my religion. I’m arranged to marry a cricketer. In fact, I’m already married now! A dozen dodges and excuses formed in her mind, but she stayed silent. If she could, she would have remained silent forever, but there was Doug above her like a vetala, a folktale spirit, demanding answers. Say the wrong thing and she’d never be rid of him. Speak properly and she could set him free.
"Doug, I’m not interested in you as a suit — as a boyfriend. I think perhaps we should not hang around anymore."
Doug smiled. "You don’t mean that."
Sejal blinked and skimmed back through her last statement for typos. Everything checked out.
"I do mean that. Actually."
"There’s a lot you don’t understand," Doug answered, "but you will. I’ll take care of you."
Sejal laughed now, half from nerves. But then she laughed harder as a sort of slap in the face, the best she could do to soothe a bright animal whisper in her to flee, to put doors and distance between her and this boy — or else to attack, to push her sharp thumbs into his soft eyes. Gods, was it just a panic attack? Why did it feel like Doug was to blame? Her laughter, anyway, had the effect she wanted — Doug flinched, and a little of that old uncertainty flickered across his face.
"You’ll…" Sejal sputtered. "You do not need to take care of me, Doug. I will manage on my own, thank you. Why do you Americans think we are all orphaned children? For only pennies a day you can buy me a donkey! Excellent! Thank you. I’ll put it with the rest."
"Hey. Hey! Why’re you…where do you get off saying shit like that to me?" said Doug. "No one says stuff like that to me. Anymore."
"I’m sorry," said Sejal, looking away.
"Do you have any idea what you’re doing, saying stuff like that?"
Sejal sighed. "I am doing what needs to be done. I’m sorry if I…got mean about it."
"You’ve been giving me signals. Don’t pretend you haven’t. You’ve been going out of your way to lead me on."
"I am like that only," Sejal insisted. "I’ve been trying to be friendly. I did not know you would…not see it like this."
"So what’s wrong with me, then?"
"Doug—"
"No. Really. I’d like to know. I’m too short? Too fat? I can tell you without bullshit that I am maybe the second-strongest guy in school. Do you want to know how?"
"You are not kind!" Sejal said, braced forward, knuckles white around the swing set chains. "You are no better than you have to be. Why are you no better? Because people treat you poorly? You treat others poorly. You treat Jay poorly."
"I’ve been nothing but nice to Jay today—"
"Yes. Today. It is like you’ve been running for office."
They fell silent and the old nag of a swing set creaked and groaned. The leafy tangles at the property’s edge shuddered in the night air.
"You don’t know what you’re doing," Doug said. "It’s not my fault, if you say these things."
Sejal stood, feeling suddenly foolish, and put the black curved seat between her and Doug. It shimmied and bumped against her hips. "I know what I’m doing. I have been trying to find something in you…I have been looking for your heart. There should be something divine in all our hearts." She swallowed hard and her eyes rimmed with tears.
"Hey," said Doug. "Hey, hey, hey, it’s all right." He tried to take hold of her, but Sejal backed away and in between the swing and struts.
"There’s something wrong with me, too, Doug," she said. "Something missing. That is how I can see it. But I’m trying to be better. You’re only trying to be admired."