Chapter Forty-Four

We had to leave at four in the morning for the two-day tour the next day. I had barely slept that night, because, after hours in the coworking space, Nirved drove us to Galle. We walked around the Dutch fort, its lighthouse and architecture so different from the Sri Lanka I had seen up to that point. A table was booked for us, and we sat in the fancy restaurant, but as it always was with my team, the food didn't stop us from discussing work.

We picked up where we had left off in coworking as though there had not been two hours of walking in between and continued discussing the newest feature Benjamin had suggested. I thought he would protest, work-life balance being an important part of his new life, but as he dug deep into coding with one of our developers, I got the idea that even though he stepped away from the operational part of the job, he missed it.

When we returned to Nirved's bus, Alice was already inside.

"Hey, how are you here?" I asked, climbing in.

"I took a public bus," she said. "It's always an adventure."

As we passed Galle bus station, all of us glued to the windows, the variety of colors, decorations, and the homemade tuning of each bus stunned us.

Jessica sat by Alice's side and started asking questions about tickets and fares.

Nirved took us to Unawatuna beach, and not long after my feet touched the sand, Olga found me and turned us toward the bar.

The wall of reservation around her was quickly melting in the sun, and I liked the lively person who was appearing. She was easy to be around. Traditionally, the whole team found its way to the bar, and finally, the talk that had started in coworking was trickling to an end.

I walked away and tried to call Arthur, but the Wi-Fi was awful, and eventually, I sent him a text, because I hadn't even been able to upload a photo. I told him about the day, and that I missed him. But before the message was sent the signal disappeared, someone had turned off the Wi-Fi in the bar.

We returned late to the hotel, and when I finally had good reception, it was too late to call Arthur, so I sent the text and laughed at the video he had sent me. He was in a comics shop, making a detailed review of the latest editions. Imaginary review because he had no idea what the comics were about.

So, when I finally went to bed, my backpack ready for a two-day trip, I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. And when my alarm roared in the darkness, it was so disorienting and almost impossible to wake up that I had to drag myself out of bed. I pulled my still sleeping body into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, splashed cold water on my face and, as it did nothing, I gathered my hair into a ponytail and shuffled to the door. I looked back at the bungalow. It would sit that way for two days, with most of my clothes and toiletries hidden back in the suitcase I had left in the closet.

I was not alone in the early morning/late night misery, because when I stumbled to the bus, Dave was already sitting inside with closed eyes, his forehead pressed to the window. I climbed in, and went to the back row, slumping in the corner seat. Everyone packed inside and, when I closed my eyes for a second, just to open them to the quiet engine rumbling, the bus was already slowly moving through the dark streets. I turned my head to the right and saw Alice's head resting on Benjamin's shoulder, his protective hand around her. It was quiet on the bus, and I watched them for a few seconds. They looked good together, and I wondered if it was as real for her as it was for him.

I folded my jacket and placed it against my cheek, creating a cushion, and closed my eyes. I remembered the video from Arthur and laughed quietly.

* * *

When I opened my eyes, it was much lighter outside, the rushing traffic honking at us. I looked around and saw that most people were awake, Olga was reading on her Kindle, one of our developers was tapping his leg and shaking his head to the rhythm in his earphones, Jessica was glued to the window, Dave was still sleeping, and Alice sat upright by my side, reading. Benjamin had his eyes closed, massive wireless headphones on his head.

I looked at Alice's screen and noticed a familiar frame of an app. It was our reading app.

"What are you reading?" I asked.

"This month I was matched with a domestic suspense. God, it's chilly," she said.

Our app was a subscription-based Tinder-like reading app. You fill in preferences, and the more you read and rate books, the better the match you'd receive. Deep analyzing algorithms made the process similar to interacting with a real person.

I nodded and looked down, my heart skipping a beat when I noticed that my knee was pressed to hers. Alice was sitting next to me, but when I acknowledged the parts of our bodies that were touching, the shoulders, bare arms, it was as though I had turned to her in my sleep, and she … she had scooted closer.

I straightened my spine, crossed my arms over my chest, and pressed my knees tightly together. Alice looked for a second to the place where my knee was pressed into hers and looked back to the screen, her face betraying nothing.

"Good morning, guys," Nirved said loudly from his seat. "We will stop for breakfast in ten minutes in a village."

People murmured in approval. And the next ten minutes I stayed plastered to the window, sharply aware of all my limbs, and making an effort to take up less space, so as not to touch the person by my side.

When we got off the bus I stood and stretched my arms over my head, cracking my spine, and looked around. It was much hotter there than in the bus, and even hotter than in the village our hotel was placed in. We were farther inland, away from the cooling effect of the ocean. We stopped by a local two-story house, and a family greeted us. The man looked strikingly similar to our driver, and it appeared that we arrived at Nirved"s brother's house.

The table was served with unfamiliar dishes, and as we sat around Nirved started pointing to potato, chicken, and egg curries, different kinds of hoppers made from rice flour, and Pol Sambol, a coconut condiment. The spicy variety of tastes was an unusual start to the day, and I managed to snap a photo of the table before we started. I would send it to Arthur later.

As usual, I waited for the tea, and as always it had a rich flavor. I noticed how Alice glanced my way when I took the first sip.

"So, you are into tea now," she said later when we walked back to the bus.

"Kind of, yes. And you?"

"I stopped drinking tea for years after …" she said, her voice sounding quieter, "Jake died."

I nodded. "At first the tea was one of few reminders that both of you existed," I said and turned away abruptly, walking to Olga.

I didn't want to see her reaction, I was mad at myself for even saying it. I was really into tea, even if Alice was the one that showed it to me. And later I drank it in gallons trying to capture the fleeting memory of the many times I drank tea with both of them. But later, much later, it turned into something that I enjoyed for myself, not connected to anyone, a hobby and meditation.

"Honestly, I would kill for a latte and a butter croissant," Olga whispered, rubbing her stomach. "It's just too much for breakfast."

I laughed. "Agreed."

When I climbed back to my seat and Alice sat quietly by my side again, she didn't say anything. I took out my headphones, turned on the noise cancellation function, and played the downloaded playlist of my favorites on shuffle.

Minutes ticked by as I watched the Sri Lankan countryside out of the window, songs turning from melodic to dance, from sad to fast, and, when a heavy metal song blasted in my ears, I looked at the time on my phone. I caught Benjamin looking at the screen before I turned it off. Alice was sleeping on his shoulder, and he quietly pointed to his wrist, asking the time. I turned on the screen again and showed it to him, he nodded, noticing the song title. He pointed to his ears and showed me thumbs up. I smiled. I tried to imagine both of them shouting to many rock songs Alice loved to listen to, and could not. He was just so different. But I was not sure Alice changed a bit, below the layer of sadness, I assumed the girl who loved bellowing to the songs in her small yellow car still existed.