‘Well then, what do we do about Vijay?’

‘Jay?’

‘Jay it is.’

He blinked for a second, and I realized I had been in a staring contest with him. With the blink, my foot seemed to pause of its own accord, tripping me up, throwing me headlong into the final inches of his arms, pushing my chest up against his.

I stumbled back, only to find his hand still there, steadying me. He pretended as though nothing had happened. As if my momentary loss of faith in our brief encounter was but an expected result of it. Gingerly, I held my breath, willing the moment not to end, never to end. But an hour or a second in, he gently took us apart.

He smiled at me, and I felt a welling panic rise in sharp little bumps all down my arms and legs.

‘We should head back to the party. Someone must be looking for you.’

It was hurt and it was glue, his assumption that I mattered, that I would be missed. I knew something was happening to me then. I had just been introduced to the feeling that I would measure everyone else against.

I shook my head. ‘I think I’ll stay here a while longer.’

In the distance, I heard the party drawing to a crescendo. They started sending up fireworks, blowing up the sky. He turned to leave, but took a second to look back, smile and say, ‘And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.’

Rio

5 January 2008

Vijay Dhillon

9810000001

I flipped around to the back of the card, looking for anything else at all. There was nothing. That was it. Just his name and an expensive number.

Should I call? He had said I could, but what if he was just being polite? It hadn’t seemed like he was. Quite the opposite, in fact; his words had a pared deliberation to them, a heaviness I could almost hold.

Making a concentrated effort to keep my fingers from shaking, I dialled Jay’s number. In my head, I had practised our conversation several times over.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi. Who is this?’

‘I wanted to wish you a happy new year.’ I would smile while I said this, so he could hear it in my voice.

‘Ah, Tara. How are you?’

‘I feel strangely inclined to share a secret with you.’

‘What is it?’

‘I want to own everyone in the world.’

I left it at that. If our previous meeting was anything to go by, his reality would supersede my imagination. In his response, I knew, there would somehow be answers to questions I hadn’t known how to ask.