By Ronak Maiti
Illustrated by April Yang
Have you read this? says Hana. She holds up a copy of ‘The Brothers Karamazov’ from the shelf above my desk.
Yeah, I reply, sitting at my desk and opening my laptop. My Hinduism teacher recommended it when I was doing my GCSEs. Decent book. I leave out that I stopped reading it 200 pages in, having never really understood what I’d read.
That’s impressive, she says. I’ve read ‘White Nights’. She moves closer to my chair, and takes out another book. Tell me about this one.
I look up. She’s holding ‘Gödel, Escher, Bach’. I bought that book in sixth form on a date with my ex. Don’t remember, I say. Never got into it.
She tuts knowingly. I watch her while my computer logs me in. Her hair is damp – she took a shower an hour ago. She’s wearing navy sweatpants and a Pacsun halter top. She looks good. She turns her attention to my desk, and her black hair hangs in thick strands over her pale face.
We had met on move-in day in the Bankside basement. We’d been going to the club nights together, and then to my room afterwards to talk and do the NYT games. It’s now the third night of Freshers’ Week; we didn’t make it into Lightbox because the line never moved forward. I prefer the later parts of the night, anyway.
You know, I say, you’re the only Japanese person I’ve ever met.
She’s also the first non-English girl I’ve ever really spoken to. I’m from South Shields. My family were the only non-white people for miles, except for a Chinese takeaway in Westoe. In many ways, though, she was similar to Geordie girls. Every girl listens to Lana Del Rey and every girl drinks Sangria. We live in a global culture.
Really? she says, looking down at me and then ‘G.E.B’. She’s close to me now; looking up at her feels too intimate. That’s so odd. To be fair, there was only, like, one other Japanese person in my school.
Bonn, right?
Mhm. Sie mochten die asiatischen Typen nicht, bro.
She speaks English with an ‘international’ accent; I wonder if her German accent sounds ‘international’ as well. I had been injecting GCSE-level Deutsch throughout our conversations and messages: ich kann dich nicht im club sehen rauchst du draussen??? It entertains her. I find it fun.
I wish I could talk to her in German fluently. Japanese, too. International students are so talented.
You know, you aren’t like other British guys I’ve met. Nobody liked the ones in my school; they were really weird.
It’s because I’m Northern. Most other English people are kinda weird.
She laughs drowsily, even though I’m pretty sure she doesn’t understand what I mean by ‘Northern’.
My computer loads and opens on Trackr. I need to finish the OA for Macquarie. At dinner, we talked about some bloke in the year above who had got nine spring week offers. I didn’t even know what a spring week was a month before getting here. It made me anxious.
At university, we start making lives.
I open JobTestPrep and click on a Korn Ferry numerical test practice. She sits on my bed and scrolls through reels on Instagram.
She yawns. Come and do the Mini with me.
I’m doing a test, Hana.
It’ll be quick. I average, like, 36 seconds. You shouldn’t be doing internship apps at this time, anyway. It’s so ethically reprehensible making kids stay up til 3am doing mental maths – Guter Gott.
Alright, alright.
She definitely knows I find her German endearing. I roll backwards in my seat until I’m next to her. She’s lying on her stomach and looking up at me and it makes me anxious. I don’t know where to look so I focus on her phone.
We do it in 48 seconds. I get ‘Rolling Stones bassist’ (Wyman), and she gets ‘Sweet, in Calabria’ (Dolce).
Go, then, she says. She’s upset in a teasing way.
It’s pretty late. You might want to go back to your room.
It’s cold outside. Let me stay a bit longer. I’ll be quiet.
I smile and sigh very loudly. Course, Hana.
I start the test while sounds of reels continue behind me. What is the projected annual consumption of gasoline? It takes me a few minutes to notice that the sounds have stopped. After finishing the test, I look back and see that she is curled up asleep.
I look at her for a few long seconds, before turning back to my computer.
My thoughts have cleared; it takes a minute to remember what I was doing. I finish another practice test, then realise I’m too knackered to do the OA.
I look at her again.
Seeing her asleep stirs me. It’s really nice. Not in a creepy way – there’s just something entirely unfamiliar about a person falling asleep in my company. Trusting me enough to. I think my heart’s slowed.
Why does this make me so happy?
I’ll sleep in my chair tonight. I don’t take my contacts out or brush my teeth.
I pull my chair up next to this person I barely know, and slump sound asleep beside her.
Then we both jolt awake a few minutes later when the fire alarm starts to blare.
