The Vibrant Years(34)

Mom picked up the leftovers and started slapping lids on them. “Who said I’m not?”

Great, now Cullie felt an inch tall. Dad had been an idiot to walk away like that. Even if her app could just help Mom find someone, that would be enough.

“I’m definitely lonely for companionship,” Binji said, “or are we not using that as a euphemism?”

Mom and Cullie both stared at her.

“It’s been a week since a man died in your arms!” Mom burst out. Work pressure must have been getting to her, because she only said things like that when something was blowing up elsewhere. But at least the sadness was gone from her eyes.

“Technically he died between her legs.” Well, if they were letting truths fly.

“Cullie!” Mom smacked Cullie’s shoulder.

“How long have you been holding that one in, beta?” Binji said, letting a smile escape. But then she stood and stared down at the two of them. Purpose shone ominously in her eyes. Something inside her seemed to have changed during this conversation. “All jokes aside. We’re sitting here discussing being lonely for companionship as though it’s something we have no control over, as though it’s something we don’t understand.”

“Because we don’t,” Cullie said.

“Well . . .” Binji looked like she was about to yell, Eureka! “Then there’s only one thing to do about it, isn’t there?” She paused, creating one of those pregnant silences that was so filled with the thought-grenade she was about to expel into the air that all Cullie could do was clench for impact.





CHAPTER TWELVE


ALY


Bhanu didn’t lie to Rajendra Desai about Poornima. She told him the truth. I’ve spent all these years wondering what it cost her.

From the journal of Oscar Seth

Aly had seen that look in Bindu’s eyes before, and it did not bode well. Cullie leaned into Bindu’s pause, and Aly felt her own excitement rise. They exchanged looks, three sets of eyes lobbing the potential of an idea, brimming with anticipation over its possibility to be great. Or terrible.

And boom! Just like that Aly knew exactly what was forming in Bindu’s head.

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” Bindu picked up her wineglass before realizing it was empty.

“We’re hoping you won’t,” Aly mumbled, even as excitement fizzed like misguided bubbles inside her. She filled Bindu’s glass with the last few sips left in the bottle.

“You can’t do this without firsthand research.” Bindu fixed Cullie with one of those looks that came so easily to her: gentle firmness.

“I do need to do the research,” Cullie admitted grudgingly, with the same expression she’d worn when Aly had taken her to the dentist as a child. “What I know about dating apps, or even dating for that matter, could fit on a Post-it Note.”

Aly typed in the words dating app on her phone and started scrolling. “Did you know there are over a thousand dating apps out there?”

Bindu looked lost for the first time in this conversation. Her mouth opened, then closed without sound.

“I know, Mom. And ten of those have tens of millions of people on them.” Aly should have known that Cullie would have all the data at her fingertips. Ashish had brought home a T-shirt for their daughter from a conference once that said “DATA DIVA.” The words were long faded, but she still wore it.

“Tens of millions of people who obviously aren’t getting what they want from it.” Aly skimmed the statistics in what seemed like one of a thousand think pieces on dating apps. “Your chances of finding a meaningful relationship on a dating app are about twelve percent.”

“That’s terrible.” Bindu downed her wine and looked around for reinforcements. “Why so low?”

“Is it terrible?” Cullie said. “It sounds high to me.”

“Either way, the point is to raise it, right?” Aly said, still poring over her phone, because this was a whole entire world she knew nothing of. “And to do that, we have to know what’s out there and how it works.”

For a few seconds the silence in the room swirled with possibility again.

“You need test cases,” Bindu declared finally, so much flourish in her voice, one would think she had written all the code and handed Cullie a finished app.

In high school, Cullie had paid people to test Shloka by writing their essays and doing their calculus homework. Then it had started helping people, and the word had spread, and everyone had wanted to help her test it. Aly remembered the pride and terror of seeing Cullie become that obsessed.

Suddenly her daughter, who’d needed to be mainlined discrete calculus problems to keep her from bursting with restlessness, had lost herself in gathering data and tweaking her design. There could be no bio app without someone to test the prototype. The entire thing was based on the idea that the human physiology reacted to thoughts and feelings. Ashish had worked with Cullie to build the bracelet prototype in a friend’s workshop.

Through it all, Cullie had known exactly what to do.

Cullie pushed her hands through her bangs, her worry tell. “We’re jumping a few steps here. We don’t even know what we’re testing.”

“So let’s figure it out one step at a time,” Aly said, starting to pace. “Those apps are right there. How hard would it be to learn how they function and then analyze why they do or don’t work?”