Chapter 4

Sam

Huh. She was funny. And honest. Blatantly so. What did she say her name was?

Akira.

Before I could focus more on her or her blinding fashion choices, it was my turn to introduce myself. I righted my glasses and said, “Hello, everyone, I’m Sam White. I did my undergrad in architecture at Boston Architectural College. Since my family is involved in the construction industry, I have grown up around buildings. As a child, I used to go out on field visits with my dad, and ever since then, I’ve loved watching buildings take form out of nothing. Learning about buildings is my passion. I hope to expand my father’s construction business into architecture, and I’m looking forward to learning as much as I can before I start this new venture.” I could see the pleased smile on the professors’ faces. “Great, Sam. I hope you use these three years to take advantage of as many opportunities

as you can,” said Professor Smith, then moved on to the next person. I felt eyes on me. I took a glance around and caught Akira staring at me, her face lined with a genuine smile and anticipation. I looked at her and raised my brows in question. Since people were still introducing themselves, Akira leaned toward me and whispered, “Isn’t it cool to see people from all around the world gathered in a single room? It’s the first time I’ll be working closely with Chinese people or Brazilian. I’ve never even talked to them before.” I was taken aback. I’ve never been asked something like this. I looked around the room. Yes, our class was filled with students from around the world. Having lived my whole life in big, American cities, I didn’t even notice anything unusual about our class before Akira mentioned it. I shrugged. “I guess I never noticed or thought about it that way. I’ve always lived in cities full of people from all over the world. India doesn’t get many tourists?”  “It does, but not much in Ahmedabad.”

I nodded, and we got back to listening to the introductions. After a few minutes, Akira leaned in again. I almost rolled my eyes. She had a lot to talk, this girl. I leaned in. “Yes?” With an apologetic smile, she said, “You know, you’re the first American person I’ve actually talked to. Except for the immigration worker at the airport, or at the billing counter in a supermarket and the professor. Like a friendly conversation, you know. It’s exciting.” My shock at her statement made her giggle. She stifled it with a cough and got back to listening. Wow. Never heard that before. I cleared my throat and said, “Good to know…uh. Sorry to say, but I’ve talked to Indian people before.” She waved a hand in a friendly gesture with a smile and got back to the professors’ concluding session. I was surprised I was more focused on Akira than the professors. That never fucking happened. Now that I’d shared a conversation with her without blinding myself with all that bright orange, I gave myself a moment to look at her. She had a smooth, light golden complexion with gorgeous black hair tied into a high ponytail. Her black eyes, rimmed with heavy liner, had a depth to them like all she had to do was look at me to know my deepest secrets. And every time she smiled, her eyes got a playful glint in them. I wish she would turn and smile at me once more. I waited, looking at her for a beat longer. And she did. She turned around, looked at me, and gave me a small smile, acknowledging me, and I couldn’t help but smile back at her. Focusing on architecture might be a greater challenge than I had expected.

“Do you have some time to work on that new residential project?” asked Luke, who was now my roommate in our off-campus apartment. The university didn’t provide on-campus housing for grad students. So, Luke and I decided to rent an apartment together close to the campus. Luke and I became best friends when our fathers started their construction company, Wilson & White, almost twenty years ago. We were seven years old then, and twenty years later, our friendship had only gotten stronger. Both of us had already started taking up minor projects of our fathers’ company and worked on it together every chance we got. “Yeah, let’s do it in the evening. Once I’m done with this design assignment,” I said, as we walked to the university. “I know I pushed you to do the master’s, but I hope you’re enjoying it.” Luke had started in the program a year before me and had loved it so much that he had not stopped bugging me until I’d applied. I couldn’t have been more grateful. “Yeah, man. The faculty is great, and I love the courses. We can make some great contacts here for when we decide to expand Wilson and White Construction.”

Luke laughed and shook his head. “You and your planning. Just focus on the now. Study. Learn. Get to know the people. Enjoy this time, man.” “Yeah, no. You’ll thank me later when my planning keeps our business

on top of shit.” We reached our building and, after a fist bump, headed in different directions to our classes.

It’d been two weeks since classes started. The first semester is all core classes. The professors thought that would help us get comfortable with our classmates and make new friends. What was it with people and their “make new friends” and “get to know people” thing? I had some friends. I didn’t need more. We had four courses: architecture design, architecture technology, history of architecture, and visual studies. I wasn’t worried about any other classes except for the architecture design. That was the main design course that would take place in the studio. I entered our studio, which was a massive, open room lined with tables along the walls and the center of the room. Each table had a computer and a shelf space underneath it. I walked between the rows of tables to get to my assigned spot at the end of the room near the window. I placed my bag on the shelf under my desk and nudged out the chair with my foot. I guess I nudged a little too hard because it crashed into Akira’s, who sat right behind me facing the opposite direction. “Oh hey, sorry for that,” I said, when she jumped and looked up at me from the computer. A smile brightened her face, and she waved her hand. “Oh, hey, Sam. It’s all right. Space is a bit cramped.”

We were a lot of students, and it was not easy to remember each of their faces and names. Because our class was so diverse, and all of them with names I’d never heard before, it was a wonder that I distinctly remembered Akira’s face and name. Maybe it was because she was one of the loudest people in the class, not just in her voice but her personality as well. It had become impossible to ignore her presence. I switched on my computer and waited for it to boot up. Behind me, Akira called out to her friend sitting beside her and said, “Hey, Mo, how is your design for the installation in a public square coming up? I’m hoping I can finish mine in the next two hours.” Mo, a Chinese woman, answered, “I’m a little stuck in a section. And I’m definitely not going to be able to finish the presentation.” Akira instantly stood up and shoved her chair back, which slammed into mine, shoving me into my desk and gouging my ribs. I glared at my screen and counted to ten to breathe through the pain. “Oh God. I’m so sorry, Sam. I wasn’t looking,” Akira said, looking at me with worried eyes. What do you even say to that? “It’s fine,” I gritted out through my teeth. She smiled apologetically and turned around to discuss the design with Mo. Why wasn’t I surprised? She’d done the same thing a few days ago with another friend. She always went around the class discussing her designs with others and encouraged others to talk about their design with her.

I hated it.

I didn’t enjoy discussing my design process with others. I preferred the appearance of creating something out of nothing. I enjoyed giving that experience to people. Personally, it was no fun when an architect revealed his thought process, his approach, and his concept before finishing the design. It completely ruined the mystery of the final product. And that’s why I always tried to steer clear of Akira’s sphere. Akira laughed at something Mo said. God, she was loud. Every time she entered a class, she greeted people around her, including me. However, the factor that contributed the most to Akira’s loud presence was her clothes. Her bright, colorful, printed, blinding clothes. There was no theme in her outfits. Or maybe there was—the theme was “too much.” In the last two weeks, Akira had worn bright-colored tops with blue jeans, dresses with prints of big flowers, cats, lines, hearts, and even sushi. Every day was a surprise, and sometimes I was horrified by her outfits, and other days I couldn’t stop staring at her. For the past two weeks, my hours in the studio were spent working on my designs and trying to not concentrate on what Akira was doing. I hated it. But the more I thought about her, the more energy I put into my work. No wonder I was done with today’s presentation three days early. Hours passed, and the presentation for our two-week initial installation design exercise had already begun. The exercise was supposed to give us an introduction to the ideas and skills of our classmates. It would help us in deciding who we wanted to work with in future group projects. So far, I’d seen some exciting designs. It was apparent that everyone was extremely talented and would be fierce competition in the future. Akira was already done with her presentation. Today, she wore a formal gray skirt and a tucked-in black shirt. She had tied her hair into a tight knot, and her look screamed professional. Usually, her dressing was colorful enough for me to immediately notice her in a crowd. But sometimes she threw a curveball and wore something so subdued that my eyes would instantly start looking for her.

We didn’t talk a lot, but we made sure to acknowledge each other when we entered the studio or any class, be it a smile or a nod or a verbal greeting. Akira’s presentation and design were impressive. She had designed a public seating as an installation. Her concept for the design problem was openness and accessibility to the public. She proposed an interactive seating design where each sitting block was a different shape, with punctures of various shapes and sizes that could entertain children. The entire installation was intermingled with pockets of landscapes to provide privacy as well as a sense of otherworldliness from the chaos of the city. It was something that could actually work for a public square in Manhattan. I think the only area that she needed to work on was her presentation skills. While her drawings conveyed her ideas clearly, a lot of other classmates had far more impressive presentation skills. The faculty felt the same and told her not to limit herself with basic architecture software, but to explore new skills. I’d already practiced my presentation speech last night. Thrice. So, when it was my turn, I was prepared. I went up to the podium and started my presentation, explaining my initial idea on exploring the context of the public squares, taking the inspiration from the verticality of the skyscrapers and creating a metal

sculpture that would symbolize the history of the square, and its progress into the contemporary architecture. The base of the installation was at a high platform, whose steps served as a seating area for the public. I had even created a 3D rendering of the installation and how it would look at different times of the day. I concluded my presentation with a walk-through showing people milling about the installation, with some sitting on the steps and some taking selfies with the installation. The comments started with Dr. Smith. “Sam, that was a great presentation. I love your concept of taking your inspiration from the verticality of the buildings around the square. The installation works well with its surroundings, as can be seen from the renderings. Well done.” “Thank you, Professor.”

Like he did at the end of every student’s presentation, Dr. Smith asked the class, “Any questions for Sam?” Only one hand was raised.

Akira.

Of course, she’d need to say something. “Yes, Akira." The professor nodded toward her. Akira leaned forward in her seat. “Sam, great presentation. I just had one question in terms of accessibility. How would a person with a disability

access your installation? And how do you ensure the safety of children from the top of the platform? Thank you.”

Oh, fuck. Why didn’t I think of that? God, this was a dumb mistake. I needed to make something up. Fast. “Akira, thank you for that question,” I said, stalling. “My presentation is focused more on exploring the general concept of the design and looking at the bigger picture. If I’m to take this design further, I will incorporate the accessibility issue and other safety regulations.” “Great,” she replied and sat back with a polite smile. As much as I was embarrassed at Akira’s question, I was almost glad that she was paying attention while I presented and cared enough about my design to ask intelligent questions. I could say for sure that of all the people who presented before me, I didn’t remember the designs of more than three people, including Akira. I definitely wanted to work more with her. Not only were her design philosophies opposite to mine, but also her approach to a problem was fascinating. She wasn’t afraid of challenging me, and I wanted nothing more than meeting up to those challenges. At the end of the lecture, the professors told us to settle down so that they could announce the next design exercise, which would start from the next week. Prof. Smith began. “Great job, everyone. We wanted to introduce the next design exercise right now so that you have some time to work on the design problem and start your research before the next class. We will be

working on this problem for the remaining semester. All of you will design a housing complex. We want each of you to pair up with a partner. Within the next two weeks, you will be choosing your site location, where you think a housing complex is needed. You will be working in pairs but just for the initial site visits and research of the site. After that, even though your site will be the same as your partner, you will work on your design of the housing independently. Any questions?” We collectively shook our heads. “All right then. For the entire week, you can go and explore the city with your studio partner and come up with your site options for the next week’s studio. Let us know who you are working with during the next lecture.”

The moment the faculty left, everyone jumped out of their seats, looking for a partner. God, why hadn’t the professors made this decision for us? It would’ve been so much simpler. The noise of everyone making a move

toward each other was deafening. Sweat ran down the back of my neck. This was the perfect moment to get Akira to work with me. I needed to hurry before her other friends asked her. Just then, someone tapped at my back. I turned around, and my eyes met Akira’s. She looked away as her cheeks turned red. “Yes?” I asked. It was amusing to see her, dare I say, nervous. Usually, she couldn’t stop talking. “Umm...,” she said as she rubbed her arm, “I hope you didn’t mind that I questioned you in front of everyone.” How did I tell her that her questioning me was the very reason that had me hoping to work with her? I smiled at her. “Oh no, not at all. I was glad to know that you were

paying attention and interested enough in my design.” Her cheeks flushed. She cleared her throat. “So... Do you want to work on this project together? With me, I mean.” Wow. No one said she wasn’t bold. “Sure. I’d love to.” All tension left her body, and she almost sagged in relief. With a big, bright smile, she asked, “How do we do this? Do you have any general idea on where do we begin to start looking for the site? Or should we go to the library and start with research?” Wow. Library and research. My heart swooned at those words. But this exercise demanded a different approach, at least according to me. “I think research is a good approach, but this is New York City. Being out and about might help us a lot more than research right now. Maybe after we’ve selected a few options, we can dig deeper into them. What do you think?” She clapped her hands together and said, “Okay then. Let’s hit the streets. This exercise seems to be the best excuse to explore the city. Where do we start?” “Let’s start with downtown around Wall Street, and we’ll walk north. We’ll get to see a lot of good buildings on the way.” “Oh, I’m so looking forward to it. I haven’t had a chance to roam around the city since I arrived in the US.” Her excitement poured out like a buzzing energy. She bounced on the spot, as if in the next moment she might dash out the door to begin her exploration. I might’ve been staring at her too long, because she changed the subject and got back to the point. “So, when do we go?” “Saturday at eleven a.m.?” I asked. She looked through her phone, maybe checking her calendar. “Yes, that works. And where do we meet? At the university entrance?” “Sure. That’s perfect.” I don’t know why, but I wanted to keep talking to her. She turned around to leave, but suddenly turned back toward me as if

she forgot to say something. “Thanks, Sam. I’m really excited to work with you.” She smiled her gorgeous smile, and my heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t decide whether I was excited to work with her or fucking terrified.

Both. The answer was both.

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