. ancient history

[aaron eklund]

SUMMER 2022 Although they hadn’t arrived together, they still couldn’t be kept apart. “I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t think you’d show,” is the first thing said to him, clapping an arm around his oldest friend—one of few people allowed to hug him. “And miss seeing these rockstars? No chance,” Aaron grinned, slinging an elbow over Ish’s shoulders as he entered the reunion. It was booked at a hotel in downtown Culver City, the class of 2012 taking to a large conference space and adjoining outdoor venue with an impressive bar. The two men were on time (which meant they were unfashionably early) and the place was still filling. Subconsciously Aaron took note of the exits as more of the place materialized into view, decorated with their school colors, boasting athletics banners and old yearbooks on display, collages of photos from over the years. “Who put this all together?” When he found out who—the usual overachievers of their grade—Aaron muffled a laugh. “'Course they did.” “You didn’t follow the Facebook group drama?” Ish started to explain. “You know me, I just show up when and where I’m told.” “Should’ve worn your fatigues,” jested Ish, nudging him with an elbow. “Then I’d really win the popularity contest.” More alumni trickled in, faces he hadn’t seen since commencement. People who went to college, moved away, moved up, got married, had kids now. A decade of time setting into their features, rich with stories about families and careers and travels. Some were mirror images of their teenaged selves, others had completely transformed since; Aaron’s memory struggled to parse between then and now, as if high school had just let out yesterday. After the first few handshakes and reintroductions, a script started to repeat itself: I joined the Army, I enjoyed my time serving, I’m back in LA now. Summing up eight years and then some into a few sentences, months of civilian transition and the aftermath of his father’s death. His palm wrapped around a beer bottle at the bar, taking a break from the crowd. Ish was at his side, telling him about his most recent auditions, anchoring his senses here when he edged on dissociation. Aaron leaned against the bar, the entrance steady in his peripheral just in case. A lull in the conversation, a comfortable silence. “Is she coming?” he asked quietly, slow to meet Ish's eyes. “I don’t know. She’s being weird,” Ish claimed, but Aaron could tell that something was off—he was lying—watching the way he diverted his gaze and fidgeted with his phone. Each of the Deols lately had been vague and cagey in their own right, sidestepping something yet to come.

[samira deol]

SUMMER 2022 “Shoot.” Samira stares down at the latest text flashing on her lock screen, hands busy scrubbing underneath a stream of water in subconscious habit. "Pulled into surgery, will be late - put my suit out and will meet you there?" It was moments like these she cursed their schedules, on call and waiting in the wings for emergencies that never happened until the moment they didn't need them. Letting out their breath, only to be immediately caught out for it. “That's fine - suit is outside your closet. See you there, good luck x,” she mindlessly types back, drifting back to the dress she'd now have to configure how to zip up herself. Well - problem solving had always been a specialty. As had remaining calm under pressure, eyes continually drifting to her phone as she touched up her make-up, smoothed the silken hair she'd had treated to tame her unruly curls. Echo ran circles around her feet, curious and aware that his parents were off somewhere to abandon him, possibly forever. The dramatic sigh he lets out once he dropped to his bed cuts her focus, dropping to her knees to scratch at his ears in apology before tackling the zipper at hand. It's when she manages to gather it at the nape of her neck, settling the clasp in place, that the device vibrates again. The text from her brother causing her to pause, shoulders stiffening under the confirmation. He showed. Great. Samira sifts through a bevy of emotions as she clips her earrings, studies herself in the mirror for any sign of visible apprehension. Luckily she's met with the calm exterior she knew so well, eyes smudged but bright with make-up, soft curls and set mouth. The only anomaly a rare outfit that wasn't scrubs or a coat, the silky black dress almost foreign against her curves, nonslip shoes traded in or strappy sandals. If there was one thing she needed to look at this reunion, it was together. The thought powers her through the rush of gathering the rest of her things, aware the event had already started as she called a car. Being late set her off, even to something as relaxed as this - mingling with old friends, sizing up old frenemies, hustling her brother and...god knows what with Aaron. The distance between them still sat as cold in her chest as it felt across phone lines, adjusting her skirt as she arrived to the warm light of the banquet hall. Strangely the continuity of hotel conference rooms soothed here, aware that she'd always find ornate crown molding and a carpet of strange patterns, brows raising at the choices made here when she finally walked in. Collected the prerequisite program and browsed the Where Are they Now? tables, competitive flare stoked at the photos and quick blurbs. Ever aware she'd inevitably be asked to show off... Shoot. Shoot. She finds bare skin when she goes to touch her engagement ring, terrified she'd lost it in the Uber until she remembered it was still on the sink, cushioned in its ceramic holder. “Can you bring my ring? Left it on sink!!” She quickly texts Ravi, and not a moment too soon, hand clapping down on her shoulder that she recognized immediately. "So she doesss grace us with her presence." Samira whirls around but the words she'd chosen die in her throat the second her head tilts up. Meets eyes so familiar yet so far away, the jolt through her body so surprising the paper she'd been holding flutters from her hands to the floor. Immediately she bends to snatch it up, taking a subtle, deep breath before straightening up in a display of total composure. “Well aren't you two a sight for sore eyes. Plan on spiking the punch tonight?”

[aaron eklund]

SUMMER 2022 There are only so many ways to ask a person about the last ten years of their life, and quickly Aaron tired of the iterations. Instead he preferred to deflect attention from himself, focusing on a small detail—a tattoo, phone background, piece of jewelry—to talk about that could segue into a greater conversation, inviting in others or allowing him to leave. “I heard you joined the Army... I thought it was a joke.” “At first it was. But then I just had to go with it, commit and all.” “You were involved in that big pullout last year? That’s crazy.” “An Army buddy of mine had a watch just like that. What’s the story?” Just like in high school, he floated between the former cliques, never quite belonging to any one group but blending in enough to make his rotations. There were the creatives, the nerds, the jocks, the loners and stoners, the popular kids. He visited with people he used to sit behind in classrooms, who ate at neighboring lunch tables, who ran inside the same track lanes. “Remember me? We got into that scrap inside the mall once?” “Doesn’t really narrow it down,” he laughed with a shrug. “Well I heard your old man passed away. Sorry about it, dude.” “Don’t be. It was the best day of my life.” These faces composed the backdrop of his teenaged years, for better or for worse. Out of the entire student body, only two people truly ever knew him—and one hadn’t shown up yet. Somehow Aaron drifted toward the wall of senior pictures, wavering in front of the memories of the dance. With ease he found their portrait, his features warming with the memory. “Did you two ever get together?” she asked, eyes on the same picture. “Yeah, we did. For a little while,” he answered, not looking away. “You know, I had the biggest crush on you back then.” “Really?” he laughed, a moment’s glance granting him recognition. “But I might as well have been invisible.” Back at the bar he finds Ish again, his half-empty beer bottle becoming a prop as he idly peeled back the label, keeping his hands busy, beginning to itch for a cigarette. He knows she’ll be here—this isn’t the type of thing that she would miss, even if it meant picking at some old scabs of their youth. Evidence of their friendship-turned-relationship collected around them in pictures and rumors and stories, the class of 2012 rendered bystanders to their story. Or maybe this was just all his memory. Then, suddenly, she appears. “There’s your girl,” they say in unison, pausing for a beat, deciding to leave it alone without acknowledgement. She strays near and Ish catches her, delighted with the ambush despite the brief commotion of her papers sent to the floor. “Now it’s a reunion,” Aaron welcomed, admiring the sight of the twins together. But he had already greeted Ishmael earlier. “Hey, Sami,” he offered once she was more composed, watching Ish confiscate the papers from her out of curiosity. “You look nice,” he murmured in passing as he gave her a hug, separating before he could be arrested by the familiarity of her warmth, the scent of that hair oil she still used. “How are you?” It had been a while. The twins had celebrated their birthday separately a while back, and with her residency (and boyfriend) he could only expect to see less of her. Before that it was Luther’s service, the holidays, his return. He was still emptying boxes in his new apartment; they were both in the same city for the first time since he left, yet they were never further apart.

[samira deol]

The evening is about as predictable as they come. It's seeing old friends turned acquaintances over the years as communication ran dry. It's the football and the cheerleader who never got married, it's the prom queen who sells Mary-Kay, it's the last person she expects hovering so closely to the bar. High school was a haze of extracurriculars, AP classes and Aaron moving officially into their home - a confined portion of her life that had expanded into more school, more people...hell, a dog, which was strangely the moment she felt most like a true adult. Being back in this memories weren't uncomfortable, they just weren't visited often. Much like the box she'd put Aaron in, taking up vast space at the top of a mental closet. Wondering if it would topple down tonight, dark gaze sweeping over the sight of him. Neutral posture. Shoulders lax. Features alert. So used to extremities, exhausted or broken or scared, that calm was a strange thing to settle her mind on. But Samira welcomes it all the same, glaring at Ish's quick swipe of her program before that comforting drawl, "Hey, Sami," just about does her head in. Familiarity always hit hard with her, even when they'd barely been exchanging casualties for years. “Hello, Aaron,” she greets in return, eyes meeting her twin's from over his shoulder as she's dragged into a hug. Ish's expression is smug, amused even, and Sami rolls her eyes before she mouths Help, pointing to the empty finger fastened around Aaron's neck. Watching as her brother's eyes widen with confusion, Where is it? mouthed back before she drops back onto the tips of her heels. “Yes, well, you clean up nice too,” she adds to his compliment before dragging her brother into a quick hug of greeting. “Ravi's coming, I left it at home.” "On purpose? Continue to kick a boy while he's down, Samira." “No, I - oh, shut up.” The exchange is quick and ends in a shove, the squabble of siblings still ingrained between the pair as she looks around for the bar they'd mysteriously procured their drinks from. “I could us one of those,” she finally admits, pointing to the cocktail in Ish's hand. Classmates drifted in their peripheral, afraid to break the spell of their own personal reunion as Sami tucked her clutch under her arm. “That means take me to the bar, you rascals. Aaron, give me the updates you are too polite to tell our classmates.”

[aaron eklund]

SUMMER 2022 If Aaron thought about it, a lot of things happened ten years ago today. By now he was essentially assumed under the Deol name, their guardianship unchallenged by Luther. He remembered counting down the months until graduation, making sure his credits were in line, no surprises left for commencement. Sami was all AP courses and honors, Ish also top of the pack, while Aaron was lucky not to get dragged into continuation school. A decade ago he saw his mother again for the first time when she was certain that Luther wasn’t around, their reunion so emotional and devastating that he could only trust Samira to supervise it. It’s a stark contrast to now, as if supposed to advertise their best selves from then, polished and proper since eighteen. Sometimes he wasn’t sure there was a better version to offer, even after a decade. Her voice is sweet close to his ear, slightly muted in the one that doesn’t hear as well anymore. “Thanks,” he returns easily, not needing to reveal that it was her father who taught him to tie a tie, watching the twins exchange their secrets. It’s a private language lost to him, not privy to siblinghood let alone twindom. She’s adamant about a drink and the pair escorts her to the bar, watching Ish garner attention for her, using his similiar face but opposite gender to flag down a bartender. A glass slides into view and Aaron’s eyes drag up to hers, still working on his beer, realizing the spotlight suddenly turned onto him. "Oh," he laughed, the immediate tone setting in. "Ish is the one with news," he started to deflect, happy to buck the attention off himself. "He earned some minutes in a medical drama. Finally Maa and Papa can be proud," Aaron divulged, pulling up pictures of their favorite man in a lab coat surrounded by cameras and lights. It was the closest they would get to a doctor son, their doctor daughter almost enough. "Couldn't help myself," Aaron continued, showing a picture of himself in a white coat, unaccustomed to the reversal of roles. "Sorry, doc," he disclaimed to the real doctor among them, leaned away from his phone as if it didn't reach them now.

[samira deol]

It was strange, to reflect back on how much had changed in a decade. In another world confronting an old love would be humiliating or devastating, maybe a clotting mix of both as she hovered in corners, barely participated in conversation in fear of spotting an ex in the corner like a poltergeist. Instead she knew the familiarity of Aaron in her bones, but felt the slice in her heart at the ten years they'd endured. Sweet love, unforgivable silence, a steady climb back to normalcy. In more ways than one she was grateful for Ish, tying them up in knots to keep them close. By force, if necessary. “Oh, did you finally reach the echelon of crime dramas - a patient on Grey's Anatomy?” Samira's voice is pitched in humor, but sometimes this is the backlash of the boys being so close. Privy to one another's updates sometimes before she can get them, often hesitant to ask in fear of her own secrets being the topic of conversation. For once Ish had kept true to his word, the update of her relationship status the cautious unsaid hanging between them. Knowing it had been years that they'd kept it, swallowing her guilt as she leaned even further to view the photos. Smile drawn over her features at the sight of Aaron on set. “It's alright - sometimes I still feel like I'm playing pretend, too. All this schooling and lectures and the best teaching takes place in the hospitals.” A crash course in precision, timing, skill and chain of command, Samira never felt more alive than when she ran through those halls. Problems diagnosed and solved, patients stitched up and transformed before her eyes...it was years of following something, her calling, throat thick as her eyes drew quietly to Ish and he immediately got the message. Go away. "Cassandra Zweig just walked in, I have to figure out how she made her dog Instagram famous," he conjures, sliding away from the bar as quickly as he'd dragged them over. Samira nods her head, a stray tallboy table open in a space that looked quiet enough. "My parents told me you got your own place,” she admits, drink settling on the edge of the table. She knew how he was in large crowds, and she, too was grateful for the quiet hum that filtered from inside but not out. “Living alone always takes a minute, doesn't it?”

[aaron eklund]

SUMMER 2022 Ish had been his first friend and connection to Samira. When they were young it was easy, simple, as the pair became a trio. They were inseparable in classes, connected at the hip on the playground, hours together spilling into the weekends. He never knew what it was like to have a sibling of his own but Ish was the closest he could get to that, even over the stepfamily his mother later introduced. Once upon a time Samira felt like a sister too, but then that evolved to a deep friendship turned love, and now it was less distinguishable. Compared to their earliest days they were practically strangers now, something they never thought could happen to them. But he had missed so much while he was away, only back in their home once or twice per year on leave, otherwise an echo in a phone call or an out-of-focus face frozen in a picture. During the worst times Ish was always the thread keeping them together, stepping in as the mediator between the two. Privy to more than their parents were, he passed on messages or slipped information when the couple was fraught with distance. Ish had broken the news to Samira about his enlistment, just as Ish had warned Aaron to expect an unfamiliar face when he visited. And just like that, their common thread slips away. Aaron chuckles in his wake, briefly watching him disappear into the crowd, still the same ball of energy as he was in high school. Relocating to a new table, Aaron carefully circled its edge as if making measurements, particular about his placement—never liking his back turned to an entry point. Then the proximity to Samira began to seep into his bones, relaxing him in a room full of people he once knew but couldn’t feel close to anymore. Now he can hear her better, see her more closely; a face he used to study. “Yeah, they finally got rid of me,” he drawls, the hint of a smile in his voice as he thought of the guest room that had been his for half his life. As much as he loved it there, he knew he couldn’t stay forever, the place wrapped in too much nostalgia. “It was nice to be back there for a while. It helped,” he offered, as if it had been a halfway house between the Army and civilian life. But if he had gone back to his father’s—even in the last few months of Luther’s life—the transition would have been an impossible feat. “Your mom made sure to put me to work though,” he said, tipping the beer bottle toward his mouth. Yardwork, handiwork, chores, and errands—they knew how destructive idle hands could be. “Still holds my hand during movies too,” he chuckled offhand, something she’d done long ago trying to desensitize him to touch. He digresses, telling her about the apartment he’d found in Silver Lake, a large loft in a converted textile building. “You should come by, come see it,” he tried, glancing her way. “I’m trying to keep a plant alive. After that, maybe a dog.”

[samira deol]

Samira holds her breath for the discomfort, the awkwardness in the quiet, but it never comes. Even when tension was fraught, when she'd snapped at him for enlisting, words so soft but so harsh because she knew she couldn't yell, she wouldn't yell, she knew she'd cut him to the quick all the same. Always wondering what would have happened if his father hadn't come back into his life the moment they were apart. If she hadn't gone to Duke, if there'd been less space, maybe, maybe, maybe. But that's all it would be. Maybe. Aware of the fact as she subcontiously slid her thumb under the joint of her ring finger. Their lives had come together, twisted then untangled, now running parallel in a subconscious harmony as they moved forward. "You know they'd keep you forever if you asked,” she responds honestly, the 'guest' room losing that moniker long ago. Tracing lazy circles on the rim of her cocktail glass, eyes reflecting in the amber of its contents as he mentioned returning back to civilian life. It's impossible to imagine how abrupt the shift must have been, taking a sip in lieu of asking further. She knew from experience he'd tell her if he wanted to, that coaxing things out of him worked as well as bringing a bobby pin to a bank safe. So her smile warms when he chooses to focus on her mother instead. "The only way she will brave the scary ones,” Samira recites, each child having been privy to the bone-crushing grip that appeared. Understanding why Papa had been spared; god forbid a surgeon break his hand. Conversation picks up quickly, easily, pocketing small updates that ran unfiltered from the lazy cadence of his voice, things they wouldn't focus on when there'd been limited time, international phone calls. The day-to-day niceties felt so inconsequential sometimes when he was gone, but now, at a high school reunion, she felt comfort that there was a day-to-day to come back to. Hesitating only when he mentions a pet, jumping in excitement and acknowleding something they'd continued to avoid. "We finally got a dog, he's such a little handful but they do not kid when they say they'll change your life for the better.” She clicks open her phone suddenly, flipping to a photo of Echo before spinning it around. "He likes to eat socks, unfortunately, but we'll keep him I guess. Do you want a specific type? ”

[aaron eklund]

SUMMER 2022 “They'd keep you forever if you asked.” Aaron smiles at this, nodding, taking it to be one of his few known truths. The Deols and their household still felt like shelter from the world, the best place to end up after the Army spit him back out. “I know. I have a feeling that room won’t change one bit,” he said, trusting it to always be waiting for him, although he never felt kept there. Given keys to guard and rules to follow, he always returned on his own, some illusion of freedom. “They invited me over tomorrow, sounds like something important,” he mentions on a murmur, not realizing it would be damage control. It's easy talking to her, always something to catch up on, peering briefly into each other’s lives now that he was stably here. But there’s a hitch in the flow with a single word: that fateful We, a little stab each time he heard it. He had already endured their getting together, their moving in together. There were few remaining We-announcements that could crush him harder: We’re getting married, We’re having a baby. The façade holds except for the brief pulse of his fingers around the bottle, Aaron seemingly unscathed by the casual mention of her boyfriend…who was, mysteriously, only present in passing. Oh, it’s his turn to speak again. “Anything with four legs is fine by me,” he shrugged, amused by the quick flash of pictures of her their pup in their home. He wondered when that happened, whose idea it was, who named him. “Whatever the shelter has. Figured I’d help out a stray, pay it forward,” he said, finding humor in the irony, a half-smile inviting her to do the same, permission at his expense. “My counselor thinks it would be a good idea, anyway,” he budged a bit more, beer bottle whispering empty now. His pale gaze drifts across the room, everything still surreal, like holding up two versions of reality side-by-side. Seeing some people for the first time in a decade, yet all he wanted to do was talk to her, as if she hadn't been a mainstay for as long as he could remember. “How has it been ten years?” he questions out loud, bewildered by the jarring sensation of passing time. “It’s throwin me for a loop. I feel old but then in my head I still feel like we haven’t graduated yet.”

[samira deol]

"Maa's probably making curry and needs to test it,” Samira ribs hollowly, his spice tolerance one of the differences they felt comfortable enough to joke about. Otherwise knowing him as the other child of their household, the extension of a family that had briefly, for a short time, seen them together. Explaining it out loud was more of a complicated dynamic than their relationship was, during that time. Running through life still so young, until they hit the wall of distance and secrets and ultimately, consequences. It feels nice to hear him joke, too. Relax into his own body, now a man next to her as opposed to the boy whose bruises she'd first poked in annoyance, then worked to soothe down the line. An accomplishment to be standing here together a decade later, imagining him in his own place, maybe meeting someone, a mutt curled up on a couch they never knew they needed. Feeling comforted and safe, Sami's eyes lifting at his mention of a counselor. "I didn't know you were talking to someone,” she admits, tone curious at the admittance. "How's that going? I agree with that fact, by the way. Dogs are a lot of attention but they crave love and routine. Structure without strict guidelines.” Like his home away from home. One he'd called that for a decade. It felt strange to even acknowledge, draining the contents of her own drink and wincing at the dredges of rum that had settled in the bottom. "I'm sure our caps and gowns are still in that hall closet if you need a reminder tomorrow.” Voice softened at the realization he'd be at her parent's tomorrow while she'd be waking up with Ravi, running to another shift. Drifting into this life she'd wanted for herself, yet aching for just a moment in the past. Uneasy in the space between she recommends they return to the bar, elbows settling against the polished wood as familiar faces whirled, nodding to old classmates as they stared knowingly at the pair. Untouchable, even now. When they return to their table again, second drinks settled comfortably in their palms, it feels like the right time. Gently, honestly, in each other's company - as safe as they may be here, Samira swallowing thickly before angling to meet his gaze. "Aaron, I- ” "Samira, there you are!" Fuck. Her eyes widen as the harsh word floats through her mind, rarely ever the one to curse. But the right time had clearly come and gone, stealing a final look at Aaron's expression before waving in Ravi's direction, accepting a quick kiss and watching in mild, subdued horror as he produced her ring from his pocket. "Was right where you said it was." Horror? That was unexpected, heart pulsing too quickly to parse through that one as she slid it on her ring finger, unable to meet Aaron's eyes at the reintroduction and instead clocking Ish appearing right behind his shoulder. "Aaron, you remember Ravi?”

[aaron eklund]

SUMMER 2022 Surrounded by ghosts of their past, Aaron was unsure of which slice of time to firmly stand in: now or then? He thought briefly about himself back then, that angry, reckless teenager with nothing to lose. But there was loss, so much loss, currently staring the hardest loss in the face. Ten years ago was the first time in his life that he felt the tug of hope, envisioning a future alongside Samira, for once believing in days ahead. Then a year later everything changed, their paths forked, and that picture lost its color, fell into shreds. A decade ago he would hardly talk to a school counselor, let alone entertain the idea of therapy. Sami must be relieved by the prospect but reining in her reaction. “My mom convinced me,” he admitted, smiling at mention of her but features fading when he remembered when and why that happened in the first place. A muscle in his jaw twitched, head tilted as he fished for the words. “It’s been good,” he tried before correcting himself, choosing honesty. “It’s been hard. I’m trying,” Aaron offered with a shy smile. “She’s a nice lady, I’m learning a lot,” he continued, someone who was gingerly handholding him through darkness. Even her eyes watered sometimes as he recounted the abuse in detail, repeated the names he was called. “Just trying to do right by my ‘inner child’, so I’ve been told.” Working on himself, trying to fix the mess the Army had made of his adulthood, was always attempted with Samira in mind. Foolishly, he wanted to point at the improvements he had made and feel ready to give this a shot again, a better chance than it had a decade ago. She’d had boyfriends over the years, and there were flickers of girlfriends he never bothered to introduce to the Deols, but he had only ever loved her, another irrefutable truth. Everyone here knew it. They were different now, older too, but this wasn’t; he couldn’t be that boy hesitating to ask her to the dance again. Something was on her mind too, hearing his name fall from her lips. “Sam, I—” he started simultaneously. I’ve been thinking. I’ve made some changes. I’m back for good. In looking down at the table, trying to gather his nerve… he missed catching sight of Ravi and being able to brace himself. It all happens so fast. Ravi’s warm, brown face, a chaste kiss, the engagement ring slipping on her finger. Aaron can hear his bloodstream echo in his ears, trying not to shatter the new bottle in his palm. His face freezes in place, simply mirroring Ravi’s, playing the part as to not burst into a million pieces. “I do. Yeah, of course. Ravi,” he rasped, hand shooting out to shake his, ignoring the brief flicker of touch on his shoulder. When Ish appears it confirms his suspicion that something was very wrong and very much hidden from him, incensed by their secret keeping. “You're engaged,” he intoned, pointing at the ring on her finger that had just materialized and ruined everything. His eyes couldn't leave the diamond long enough to gaze up at Samira. “Wow,” he offered, ragged breath transforming into a laugh of disbelief. To Ravi it was that of surprise, joy; everyone else knew otherwise. “Hey, congratulations,” he said to Ravi only, braving a second handshake, loose and desperate to leave his grip. “When did this happen?” he asked, finally looking at Sami over the curve of his bottle as he took a hearty pull.

[samira deol]

Sam. She'd caught it, head snapping up to find his gaze trailing across the table. Sam was rare. Over time she'd tried to figure out the structure of his nicknames. Sami was the go-to; day to day ease, what he'd called her most her life as the family assimilated to the American ways of life. Sami was easier on her classmates so Sami she became, Aaron dutifully following suit. Samira was serious. The few times he'd used it were their own cold wars, when they'd broken up...or when they'd fallen in love and recognized it for the first time. A name of extremities. Sam was rarer still. Weighing its place on his scale, whether it fell more warm or more intentional, if it tipped even further. Tonight would not be the night to analyze it, though. It was a night instead that would shift them even further apart, a concrete symbol of moving on sparkling in his eyesight. Her own catch her brother in the shadows, fingers pinched to his nose as if bracing for impact. Would Aaron explode? Surely not, Samira knowing as well as anybody what was about to happen. Watching the mechanical wind up of his actions, disjointed but required, the tone of his voice brittle and rote. Going through the motions, shock rippling underneath his set features. "We are,” she finally finds her voice, heavy hand drifting closer to her face in a false attempt at showing off. In actuality she wanted his eyesight to follow it, to find hers pleading that she didn't do it to hurt him. Wrestling, always wrestling, with why excuses seemed to be the first thing she wanted to make. They'd been dating for years, it was a natural next step, they'd matched together for crying out loud. But when Aaron laughs it feels like a gunshot, hollow and swift and cutting. "Uhm...” "January," Ravi confirms, taking the conversation lead as Ish timidly rejoined the circle in an act of solidarity. If she was going to get guilted for staying silent, he wasn't going to let her take the fall alone, Samira silently thankful. "We fooled her under the pretense of having a white coat ceremony when the orders came in - truthfully, she was very surprised," Ravi's hand squeezes hers and she offers a light smile, about as authentic as Aaron's laugh had been. In actuality she'd hated the connection between a major milestone in school and their engagement but her mouth had stayed shut. Her head had nodded Yes. "It was a huge blessing to have all of our family there to celebrate." "Yes, it was...quite the day,” Samira manages, skin blazing under the heat of Aaron's stare. She feels it before she even sees it, choosing to take her own lengthy sip simultaneously. Maybe if she swallowed the burn it would all be easier, hand twisting further into Ravi's before she finally tore her eyes away. "I think we're going to go do a lap,” she decides, knowing this conversation was built for another time. They never did well if they couldn't speak honestly, and this location, this event, wasn't the place, gently tugging Ravi away to the bar and leaving the boys exactly as she'd encountered them, just with a touch more emotional baggage. Ish clears his throat, breaking the silence. "I got so drunk at that party I puked in this flamingo-shaped hedge in their backyard."

[aaron eklund]

SUMMER 2022 This was how he knew he was different, that he had been altered by his stint in the military. Ten years ago his eruption would have been imminent, driven to act out and leave a trail of fire behind him. It’s what was modeled at home, all he knew. But the Army had taught him to stuff everything down to the depths: white knuckle it, clench the jaw, bite that tongue. Punching walls, slamming shots, playing with guns helped purge it later, after the fact; not like the well of rage ever ran dry. From the Deols he tried to hide that side of him, or at least they only saw the aftermath in bloody knuckles and fresh wounds. But that was always the tip of anger or revenge…in heartbreak, it wasn’t an outward explosion but an inward collapse. And he knows they’re watching them, Ravi none the wiser. It feels like a sick joke. He nods along to their sweet story, the pieces and timeline falling into place, more razored edges to scramble over. The last few months suddenly become a minefield in his head—when did they start conspiring together, where had he been? There aren’t any answers to be found in her eyes, nervous to meet his, rarely catching one another between greedy drinks and plagiarized expressions, everyone dutiful to their parts. For a moment he wonders who should feel worse: him for just now finding out, or Ravi for not knowing at all. His insides flood with acid, beer bottle suddenly so much lighter in his hand but not working fast enough. The alarms had been pulled, his system in surreptitious overdrive. If someone studied him well they could catch it: the dullness of his eyes, the unfinished smiles, the lick of his teeth. Samira has the instinct to leave and he watches their joined silhouette drift off, the column of his throat finally moving with a full breath of air. Ish remains, almost cautious of their proximity as he scans his pale, malfunctioning friend, feeling like a defector caught in the crossfire. Aaron helps himself to the remainder of Ish’s drink, returns the empty glass to his suspended palm. “I gotta hand it to you. You’re quite the actor,” Aaron started, simmering. “Deserve an award. Truly.” “Look, man, she threatened me,” he scrambled to explain, dampening the volume of his voice as to avoid a scene. “You hid this, the both of you. For months. Even your damn parents..” he scorned to realize, alienated by the family he most valued. Thrust out of the circle of people he loved, replacing him with a better fit. “You had a lot going on. And she’s my sister—my twin. I had to…” “You had to,” Aaron repeated icily, finally turning his gaze on him. “And did she have to show up without a ring or a boyfriend? A minute later with a ring and a fiancé?” “An accident. She would never want to hurt you,” Ish pled, but it was falling on deaf ears. Aaron tilted up a palm to interject, shaking his head with a grimace. “I’ve never been mad at you a day in my life, but I really don’t want to be near you right now, Ishmael.” Hands sent into his pockets, Aaron glanced around the room to locate the outside balcony. “I need a smoke,” he murmured, checking himself for the aid of nicotine. “Then I’m out of here. Before I make anything worse.”

[samira deol]

"He didn't know?" Ravi questions when they're out of earshot, the pair studying old yearbooks in another part of the hall. Samira has half a mind to look back, to witness the aftermath she'd left her brother to deal with, but too ashamed of her own cowardice to witness its consequences. Why hadn't she told him? The question had kept her up as this day crept closer, a collision inevitable with the physical evidence she bore on her finger. Her eyes catch the diamond again, watch the facets reflect off the warm conference hall light. A beacon she shouldn't have hidden...no, couldn't have hidden. Stumbling over her thoughts again, tuning her fiancé back in out of obligation. "Isn't he part of your family?" "Yes and No,” she immediately reasons, voice hesitant because it was never easy to define. Flipping a few pages of the album in front of her until their Senior Ball fell open against the hardwood table. "He was part of our family, yes, that is correct. But you've heard me talk about how he was a first love, too.” Never one to shy away from transparency Samira carries on, turning the page on the pair at prom. "But I love you, now. I'm marrying you,” she promises, finger tracing the lapel of his suit. "I just didn't want to rock any boats as he figured out how to be a civilian again, not a soldier. I should...” As if he read her mind she sees Aaron storm off in her peripheral, Ish's hand paused in the air at an attempt at comfort. "I should go talk to him.” Samira doesn't wait for his response, brushing past Ish with a gentle squeeze of his hand, a brief "thank you,” murmured. He'd kept her secret to likely great detriment, understanding how Aaron's betrayal would run deeper than most. Let down by the truest family he'd ever known, unsurprised when a lit cigarette end gives him away across the terrance. "How's the tar taste?” Sami starts, a consistent nag on his penchant for cigarettes. Hovering slightly away, cautious to approach, arms crossing over her chest as a breeze gently rolls in to chill them even further. The silence so incredibly loud as she shifted on her heels, stared out over the skyline. "I was trying to tell you, before. I was...” she trails off, not liking the phrase she wanted to say. Beaten to the punch, too reminiscent of a youth she'd rather not remind him of. Not like this, likely reeling at her news. "I asked everyone to keep it private. If you are mad at anyone, it should be me, not them.”

[aaron eklund]

SUMMER 2022 It’s an apt image: Aaron wearing a suit that made him feel like an imposter, lurking outside a gathering of people he used to know, broiling with anger and trying to cloy his senses enough to block out the feelings. He briefly catches his reflection in the balcony pane, shouldering the view as a cigarette came to life at the end of his fingertips. The night had been a bittersweet mix of longing, nostalgia, curiosity, his mind swirling with ten years of questions, reflections, regrets. A brief headrush relieves the visceral pressure, receding as his eyes darted across the skyline. There weren’t many excuses left to allow him surprise, he should have known this was coming. Samira and Ravi had been dating for years, checking off the expected milestones. They matched in every way possible, as if he had been plucked out of a fairytale prince catalog. Aaron had met boyfriends of the past, he always resented them, scouting for incompatibilities, hoping for an end. But his leaves were never long enough, her education too important, their paths careening away from one another. A soldier and a doctor, polar opposites in mantra and intent. The solitude doesn’t last long. Samira was never afraid of him, even at his worst. Nor was she afraid to speak her mind. “Tastes better than whatever that was,” he answers in a flash, the smoke curling out of his nostrils trailing into the wind. She was trying to tell him before, just as he was trying to tell her that he wanted this all back; he relishes another drag, downed by the irony. Hell of a time and place to spill his guts in hopes of finishing out the love story of a decade’s past. Here he was still stuck seeing out of the eyes of an eighteen-year-old, just before his life stopped. Aaron stays with her, listening, resisting the pull of his thoughts. “I am mad at you,” he confirms, blue eyes cutting her way. He searches her face, scans her body language—she’s worried but there's a muted guilt there, and now he has to wonder about her other secrets. “Got enough to go around,” he muttered, a banquet hall of their peers able to attest. Fixated on a memory, wavering in between two time periods. Inside there was picture proof of the best times of his life, on his own skin there was evidence of the worst. He turned his back to the cityscape, leaning on his elbows to study her, the cigarette at the side of his mouth. No longer was she the little girl tagging him at recess, making pinky promises, sharp and fearless. The teenager sharing earbuds against the lockers, explaining her homework, bright and steady. Now she’s a woman, a graduate, a doctor. About to become someone else’s wife, the ring a fixture in his periphery. “When were you going to tell me? At the wedding?” he asks, the disbelief scratching at his voice again. He holds her gaze, fixated on her words. “Since when does private mean everyone except me?”