Election Night

Election night was like a nail biting match of tennis. Nishant and I were glued to the screen, chomping down instant noodles and taking only biological breaks. It was the most exciting night since we got married.

It had been six months since our wedding in India. Our honeymoon had been the lockdown, here in the suburbs of Dallas. We were getting used to each other, synching our moods and learning to create space.

There were elements of surprise that surfaced, things that were not evident during our very short long-distance relationship — such as Nishant’s lack of real friends or his inability to sustain a conversation with anyone. I discovered Nishant slept only four hours a day to accommodate his obsession with stock trading. I was also taken aback by his meticulous tracking of expenses that led to buying things only on clearance or avoiding takeout. However, I had been open-minded about this relationship. After three heartbreaks, I was willing to offer this my all.

It was my first time in America. Just like my relationship, I had no great expectations of this place. After all that I had read in the news, I knew it would be a struggle fitting in. I was mentally prepared to be told to return to my country or have limited access to abortion.

I had made a few friends in the neighborhood, all South-Asian immigrants either working in tech or…