Page 30 of Writing Mr. Right

In fact, I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun. I used to spend most of my time at home and work, but now I’m often outside surrounded by nature or other people, or immersed in other mediums of art as a new way to express myself.

But even while I embrace this new routine, worry creeps along the edges of my mind. Because the more time I spend with Aashiq—which is about 90 percent of my day, because when I go to bed, he goes off and does…whatever he does—the more I realize I may be starting to…like him. He challengesme in ways no one else seems to, he validates my discouragement while finding ways to renew my faith in myself, and I’m building better life habits because of him. I wake up early; I make breakfast and lunch now (with his help—I’m still hopeless in the kitchen, but I’m getting better); I spend time with other people. Emily and my parents can offer their words of comfort as much as they want, but only a creative can understand the woes of another creative—even if Aashiq technically isn’t a writer, he’s my muse, which is close enough. Plus, proximity to him has a funny way of speeding my pulse. Once, he fell asleep on my shoulder while we watchedKing the Landtogether, and I swear I thought my heart was going to leap right out of my rib cage.

He also still accompanies me to work. He can’t for the life of him figure out how to work the copy machine; he’s broken the coffee maker; he accidentally spilled water all over important case files; and Colin is clearly suspicious of how the firm allowed a job-shadowing experience without his knowledge. But none of that deters Aashiq from walking into the office with a positive attitude every morning. He memorized everyone’s names in his first week, and he always greets them with a “Good morning.” Seeing him so chipper used to annoy me, but now I stride over to my desk with a sunny grin. I can’t remember when I stopped anticipating coming into work every day, but now I make a conscious effort to be happy while I’m here, and it’s like an entirely new environment.

But as all this time passes, I still haven’t come up with a new book idea. By the beginning of December, I’m nowhere close to starting anything. So, I just keep working on the exercises Aashiq gives me, which include the affirmations. I guess it’s finally clicked in his mind that I’m uncomfortable with them, so he tells me to do them only when it feels right. He also leaves me alone sometimes so I can go through them without him checking over my shoulder the whole time, and in fairness tohim giving me space, I really try, but all I ever manage is staring at the blank page before moving on to something else.

Today, though, I’m keeping things simple with my to-do list for the week. I work on it at the dining table. It’s Sunday morning, and Emily has the day off, so she’s been breezing around the apartment taking care of her own errands. Aashiq declared he wanted to go on a walk, but because I’m still busy with this, he went out on his own. I had to tell him not to bring another pigeon home, which is something he did on his last nature walk; I barely managed to get the thing out the window before it took a huge crap out of fright.

“Ziya, have you seen my hair oil?” Emily’s voice calls from our bathroom.

I look up from my sheet of paper. “Isn’t it under the bathroom sink?”

“No.” Emily steps out into living room. She holds up an aerosol can. “But our cooking spray is, which I’ve been searchingeverywherefor, by the way. How did it end up in the bathroom?”

I chew my lower lip. “Sorry.” I turn back to my to-do list. “Sometimes Aashiq gets antsy when he has nothing to do, so he ends up rearranging things around the house.” If there’s anything I’ve learned about Aashiq over the past month, it’s that he needs to be busy. Once, I accidentally fell asleep on the couch after work, and I woke up to find he’d hand-washed all the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and then reorganized our kitchen system. It took Emily and me days to find our spoons, because in his frenzy, he couldn’t even remember where he’d put them.

“Well, can’t he go back to his own house and find something to do there?” she grumbles as she heads over to the cupboard to put the cooking spray away. “He doesn’t have to restructure our entire apartment just because he’s bored.”

Her tone makes me lift my head again. I set my pen downand lean back in my chair. “Hey, is everything okay? What’s with the tone?”

Emily pauses, then releases a long sigh before turning back to face me. “It’s just…he’s around a lot, you know? It’s like every time I’m home, he’s here. I don’t even bring Daniel here very often.”

“That’s because he has a better apartment in midtown, so you prefer to spend your time there,” I point out, and I’m surprised by the undercurrent of bitterness in my tone. I know I’m not actually annoyed by Emily, but what can I say? I’m sensitive when it comes to Aashiq.

“And what about where Aashiq lives?” she asks, leaning against the cupboard. “Seriously, Zee, he’s here like, all the time. What’s the point of paying New York rent if you’re never at your own place? And if this is his way of quietly moving in, then one, you should have talked to me first, and two, it’s way too soon for you guys to move in together—you’ve only been dating for like, a month.”

“Well, Aashiq’s neighbors have started a catering business in their apartment, and all the cooking scents give him a headache,” I quickly lie. “So I told him he could spend time here. But no one is moving in, I promise,” I assure her. Yeah, okay, Aashiq basically lives here, but that’s because he can’t exactly get a place of his own. “Why are you saying all this now? When we went out for karaoke on my birthday, you said you were super happy for me.”

“I was, and I still am,” Emily insists. She picks at her fingernails. “Having him around all the time is a bit much, is all. I mean, I can overlook some of his quirks, but him being so scatterbrained is starting to get inconvenient. And it’s worrying me seeing you become so serious about him so fast. You’ve only been together for a short amount of time—how much can you really know about each other that you’rethispassionate?” She scratches the back of her neck. “And you gotta admit, heisa little weird. I mean, who drinks chocolate syrup straight from the bottle?”

No one told me when the physical manifestation of my writing muse appeared that I’d have to field questions like this from my best friend. How am I supposed to explain to her that he’s always around because he’s part of me? Because he has nowhere else to go?

“Don’t you remember what it was like when you and Daniel started going out?” I say. “You were at his place all the time. He’d come over on Thursday nights, which we always had blocked off as K-drama night. You’d make plans with me and then cancel them because Daniel unexpectedly got off work and had time to see you.” I raise my shoulders. “But did you ever hear me complain?”

Shame wrinkles her features. “No, you didn’t.”

“Right, because I knew you were falling in love and wanted to spend all your time with him,” I finish. “It’s the same with Aashiq and me.” I mean, kind of. “As for his quirks, you just have to give him a chance. He’s…a lot sometimes, but I think it’s endearing.” Most of the time, anyway.

Emily hums. “You know what? You’re right. I have to give him more of a chance.” She claps her hands together. “How about we go on a double date tomorrow night? You and Aashiq, and me and Daniel?”

I freeze. “Oh, uh…” Is that a good idea? It’s not like I’m embarrassed of Aashiq or anything, it’s just… Daniel is a finance bro. He professionally gives people investment advice. Yesterday, Aashiq talked about why purple is the best color in the rainbow for at least twenty minutes. An evening with both of them could easily dissolve into awkwardness.

But if I want to normalize Aashiq’s presence in our lives (and our apartment), then I guess I have no choice. “Sounds like fun,” I agree.

“Perfect. I’ll let Daniel know.” Emily moves from the cupboard,only to turn around and open it so she can put the cooking spray away. Her eyes scan the shelves for a clear spot before they widen.

“What is it?” I prompt.

She reaches inside and pulls out a clear bottle full of brown liquid. “My hair oil,” she reveals, scrunching her nose. “Ireallyhope he hasn’t cooked with this.”

* * *

Aashiq, of course, is only too happy to join Emily and Daniel for dinner. “I haven’t spent a lot of time with Emily, but I get the feeling she doesn’t like me,” he says as we head to the restaurant Emily picked out, where we’re meeting them after work.

“It’s not that she doesn’t like you,” I assure him, because I know how big a deal it is for Aashiq to have everyone he meets like him. “She’s just worried about me. To her, you’re my new boyfriend of only like, six weeks, remember? She doesn’t actually know you.”

“I suppose that’s true,” he allows.

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