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She called me again, the conversation went like this,Me: hello. Tinku: hello, how do you know my number?Me: sorry Tinku I don’t know how it got saved in my phone contacts. I thought you are one of my friend. That’s why I sent you my new number. (I thought my friends might have saved this number in my phone, since some of my friends use my phone to call their girl friends. I did not have girl friend. I told all my friends name). she don’t know anyone.Tinku: how do you know my pet name? Just my dad, mom and brother call me with this name.Me: (I was silent for 3 seconds). sorry for texting you.Tinku: it’s ok. Then . . .This is how it started we were texting for 3 months. I joined a company in chennai. Our relationship started growing thicker & thicker. We exchanged our pictures through email. We exchanged MMS of our pictures. We planned to meet one weekend, since I just joined the company and cannot take leave in training, hence I took a flight to Ahmadabad on Saturday afternoon.When I. When I got home, I told my parents about the trip and how much fun Sara and I had. If they only what kind of fun they would have both had heart attacks. I still livedwith them because I was planning to go to college near their house if I couldever get the hang of courses that would hold me back. They eventually hired a tutor for me, as I said, a story for another day.My mother handed me my messages from callers on the house phone. Most were happy birthdaywishes from relatives. I saw one from Bridgette, the German lady who was always so friendlyto me and the other neighborhood young boys. She lived down the block on our same street in a corner house five houses down from us. Bridgett often invited young boys to come in and have some lemonade and cookies on hot summer days, Oreos and hot chocolate during the winter, and was a convivial and spirited host who talked to us in a loud German-accented voice."Boys, how is school going for you? You need to study hard so you can get a good job.
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