How did Vaisya unlearn communication?

Vaisya lingered on the video call, watching her best friend Rachel fidget with her necklace — a nervous habit she’d recognized from college. Fifteen years ago, they’d solidified their best friend status by going horse debating everything from foreign policy to third wave feminism. Rankling over who was a better author, Camelia Paglia, Samantha Hunt, or Ezra Pound. Laugh screaming over how, “It doesn’t matter they are all different genres!”

Back then, their passions were fueled by cheap wine and cheaper pizza. (Okay, cheaper wine.)

Fueled by shared connection, shared experiences.

Now they were discussing Rachel’s new kitchen backsplash. “Yeah, the subway mapping on the tiles really brighten up the space,” Vaisya hated how her voice sounded — pleasant, careful, hollow.

“They do! And the contractor was great.” Rachel’s laugh felt forced. Silence followed, maybe they both remembered when their conversations didn’t exist between tight, electrified guard rails?

Vaisya watched Rachel open her mouth and close it again. What thought was on the other side? A blog post by RFK Jr. on vaccine mandates had sparked a major argument last year, and since then, they’d mastered the art of talking about nothing.

“I’m never sad when a friend goes far away, because whichever city or country that friend goes to, they turn the place friendly. They turn a suspicious-looking name on the map into a place where a welcome can be found.”
— Helen Oyeyemi, from “Mr. Fox”

“Well, I should probably — “ Rachel started.

“Yeah, me too…” Vaisya agreed and chewed on her cheek.

But instead of ending the call, Rachel touched her necklace and said softly, “I miss you.” The words hung, heavy with imagined echoes. Probably not the physical you, right? They saw each other… So, it was the you who wasn’t afraid to disagree, to push, to engage. The you who believed friendship could survive differences of opinion.

The Vaisya who wouldn’t tell her, “All your fears are just made up!” Who wouldn’t call her a psycho who is ruining our country. Who’d see her for being scared just like her, and reacting to that fear differently. Was Vaisya the asshole? Maybe they both were?

After the call ended, Vaisya sat in her darkening home office, her laptop’s glow illuminating a face deep in thought until she came out of the trance who knows how much later.

“Oh shit!”

She’d signed up for a book club called Detention.

She’d signed up for the book club because it had started with a collection of stories by her favorite author, Samantha Hunt. And even though she’d missed that session, she figured, “Maybe their taste is good.”

Now, she realized the branding must have worked on her, because she didn’t want to be late.

The clock read 6:55 PM — barely enough time to grab dinner from the fridge before the stream started. Detention book club ran in three book cycles. She hadn’t finished the second, Naomi Klein’s Doppelganger, but that was supposedly okay.

Their tagline had made her laugh despite her mood, “You don’t have to read the book, but you have to show up to detention.”

Since signing up she’d been getting emails from Daniel, the blue-haired storyteller, and Juliet their manager and techie. The emails had offered a glimpse of the ruckus she’d missed from the first session and guilt free encouragement to read the next book.

Right on time, the three hosts appeared on screen: Daniel with his distinctive blue hair, Allison who’d been described as a poetry genius, and Ashar, a media studies professor. They had an easy rapport that made Vaisya feel like she was eavesdropping on friends having a fascinating conversation.

“For those just joining us,” Ashar began, pulling up slides about doppelgangers and mirror worlds, “let’s talk about what Klein is really exploring here.”

Vaisya found herself nodding along. Even though she’d only made it halfway through the book, the hosts’ discussion of political polarization and how both sides create funhouse mirror versions of each other resonated with her own observations. She thought about that conversation with Rachel and how it made her feel crazy.

Like they were trying to score points, accrued by making sweeping generalizations with bonuses for who could say more hurtful epithets.

When Allison mentioned living in a small conservative town and trying to navigate conversations with her kid’s Cub Scout leader about Joe Rogan, Vaisya typed her first message in chat, “This is exactly what happens at my workplace break room!” Several others chimed in with similar experiences, and suddenly she was part of the conversation.

The hour and a half flew by. The hosts wove together book analysis, personal experiences, and wider cultural observations. They didn’t shy away from tough topics — capitalism, conspiracy theories, patriarchy — but discussed them with nuance and occasional humor. Even when they disagreed, there was a respectful exploration of different viewpoints that felt rare in online spaces.

Vaiysa noted how the engagement wasn’t just two ways, but the people in chat were also talking to each other.

People shared thoughtful comments about their experiences with political divisions, recommended related books, and even respectfully disagreed with some of the hosts’ interpretations. It felt less like a lecture and more like a living room discussion where everyone was welcome to contribute.

But it never devolved into, “Let me tell you about my new kitchen backsplash.” The hosts kept the focus on the book. Whenever a personal story came up, it came back to the book.

As the stream wound down, Daniel mentioned their Discord server and the next book — “Exhalation” by Ted Chiang. For those who were interested in, really hanging out, they were going back to Discord to read a chapter of that book.

With everyone on screen now, it seemed clear, these were the rebel kids.

The joke of it all hit her, “Detention?” Wasn’t that where they kept all the coolest kids, the troublemakers, the ones willing to listen and learn but only if they could do it forging their own path.

Ashar read the first pages from the story, The Life Cycle of Software Objects. “Dan, thanks for recommending this book. This is the best short story I ever read.”

“That’s crazy! It’s sort of polarizing, in my discussions with others about it, people hated it or loved it. It’s definitely not my favorite story in the book. So I’m glad we can spar about it next month.”

Later that night, as she got ready for bed, Vaisya realized she’d gotten more out of a book she hadn’t finished than from many she’d read cover to cover.

She opened her laptop one last time and shot off a short message to Rachel, “I miss fighting with you. I miss listening to you. I miss getting angry and getting over it.”

She hit send and sighed, “I love Detention.”

I rarely share fiction, my main focus is on memoir where I write about break your heart childhood love stories, how I’m growing in skill and my live events. If you subscribe to me here, I’ll shoot you a personal email and you can link me to cool projects you’re working on.