There is no one quite so beautiful as a young East Indian man, skin smoothly tanned, hair and brows thick and black, and eyes teddy-bear brown.

Corinne fell in love with such a man not long after graduating from the University of Rochester, the institution that drew Raj to her city all the way from India. Corinne met Raj in the Orange Monkey, a nightclub not far from the U of R. The Rustix played there. Their best song, "I Heard It Through the Grapevine", which was later to be popularized by Creedence Clearwater Revival, ran goosebumps up and down Corinne's spine as she danced to it.

On the spring day when Corinne first walked into the Orange Monkey, she promised herself that she would do nothing there but dance. She would not give her number to any man, leave with any man, or even dance more than two dances with one man. And Corinne kept the promise all summer until, on the last day of August, she met Raj.

Raj's full name was a tongue-twisting nine syllables of strangely arranged letters; Corinne just called him Raj. He showed her photos of the Taj Mahal. He lent her his personal copy of the Kama Sutra's list of sex positions, too technical to be titillating. He told Corinne that Indians have many different words for "rice" and that Corinne had incredibly beautiful eyes. He introduced Corinne to colorful Indian meat- and vegetable-curries and escorted her to the highly romantic Indian movies shown monthly in one of the smaller U of R auditoriums.

In one Indian movie, a blind beggar was accidentally reunited with his childhood sweetheart, now the lovely heroine of the movie. Stricken hard by love, the beggar tried to win the heroine back. But she was in love with a rich doctor. The beggar, believing that regaining his sight would refresh the heroine's love, allowed the doctor to cure his blindness. But now, he discovered, he actually had to watch as the heroine gazed lovingly on the healer. To stop this torture, the beggar re-blinded himself by thrusting two light bulbs into his eye sockets.

"I love those romantic old movies," Raj said as he and Corinne left the theater.

"The movie didn't make sense to me," Corinne said. "What did the beggar think -- that life owed him a beautiful, rich, woman's love? Any adult mature enough to love should know enough not to give away their heart until they're fairly sure of reciprocation."

"You're not a very romantic person, are you?" Raj said.

"It's not about romance," Corinne said. "It's about trust."

In September, the school year began. Corinne had graduated from the U of R with honors and a teaching certificate. But New York State was plagued by a recession just then; the only job Corinne could get was teaching kids who had been suspended from junior high: Doreen had to be taught at home because she attacked a teacher, and Rob was laid up by a broken leg. Fine. But Corinne was also assigned to tutor Renee, who was suspended not only for threatening a teacher but for prostitution.

Corinne saw no alternative; she drove through a rundown area, found Renee's house, and knocked. When an old man answered, Corinne introduced herself as Miss Robb. The man invited her in, showing her the respect that American teachers rarely get, and sat her down in a small living room.

In the other room, Corinne heard a young woman yelling. She heard an older woman yelling back something like, "You are going to go in there and learn something, or Grandpa and I are going to beat the tar out of you." Corinne heard a crash, as if something had been broken. In walked "Grandma" -- and Renee, who looked like a POW camp inmate and was built like a football captain.

Renee checked her out coldly. Corinne could see the kid's resentment, but she couldn't run; she desperately needed the job. So she bluffed. She used every acting skill she possessed to hide her terror and began to teach Renee.

At the Orange Monkey the following Friday, Corinne told Raj about Renee. Raj told Corinne how tough the U of R physics courses were. They danced a few dances, but Raj was exhausted and decided to go home early. Corinne found an empty piece of wall to lean on, intending to listen to just a few more songs before she left as well.

The third set ended. A tall man with long black hair came over and stood next to Corinne. He turned around and asked, "How are you today?"

"Do you know me?" Corinne asked, confused.

"Like, we all know everybody, don't we?"

"Well, I guess so --"

"We're all one, you know. The world could use a little more trust and openness and honesty. Like, you and I could start by getting together --"

A guy with a British accent interrupted the hippy with a greeting, then turned to Corinne and asked, "How are you?"

Fortunately for him, he didn't wait for Corinne's answer. He said, "Don't believe a freakin' word my friend says." Then Hippy repeated to the British guy what he had said to Corinne. Heaven knew why he was trying to get British to trust him.

"I really like your mind," Hippy said. "We could, like, really get something together."

British said, "I don't trust nobody in this whole freakin' world."

"Why not?" Corinne asked.

"Nothing in particular. Just everything in my freakin' life. What is trust?"

"Giving yourself up."

"That's impossible. We never show our whole mind to anybody. We can't even trust our freakin' selves. How can we trust other people?"

"Yes," Hippy said, "but that doesn't give you much to live for."

"I agree," Corinne said to herself.

"Oh yes," British said. "I have a lot. I take what I can from everybody. Just a few moments here, a few moments there. Then I go on. I don't have to trust anybody." He said goodbye and walked away.

The music started up again. Corinne turned away from Hippy to listen to it.

"What are you thinking?" Hippy asked.

"I blacked out."

"What?"

"My mind always blacks out when I listen to good music." Corinne turned away again.

She felt Hippy's hand touch her chin. He turned her face back toward his and gave her a kiss so gentle that it couldn't possibly have had any basis in genuine affection.

Corinne didn't respond. Hippy said, "You know, like, I really dig your eyes and your mind and everything about you and, like, you're really something else."

"No I'm not." Corinne turned away again.

"Like, I'm really sorry. I think you're really with it, and I wish we could get something together. Like, I have a whole house full of friends and everything . . . like, anyway, goodbye."

Corinne had talked Raj into a picnic in Piedmont Park. He lit a fire, and they talked philosophy and physics until it started to get dark. What was it about Raj that drove Corinne mad? His brilliant mind? His brown-eyed smile? Or was it the lure of the exotic?

Corinne and Raj lay down on the blanket and got into a hypnotizing kiss. When they came out of it, Raj noticed that his toe was so badly burned by the fire that it was black.

"Didn't you feel it?" Corinne asked.

"Not at all," Raj said.

In October, Corinne decided to dress up like a kid and go trick-or-treating. She flattened her breasts by tying a thick rag tightly around her chest. She dressed as Little Orphan Annie, complete with schoolgirl uniform, thick glasses, and blond wig. She knocked on Raj's door and said, in a child's voice, "Trick or treat!"

Seeing Corinne dressed up as a kid turned Raj on; the costume made Corinne resemble Raj's beloved little sister. That evening, Corinne decided to become Raj's lover. She lived to regret that decision.

The following Monday, as usual, Renee had only done a page or two of her homework. Corinne decided to backtrack a little.

"Renee, what career do you want to get into?" she asked.

"I'm gonna be a lawyer," Renee said, with all the defensiveness of a 13-year-old girl who was positive that she would never, in her wildest dreams, be a lawyer.

Corinne rolled her eyes. "Cruds, Renee! You want to be a lawyer, and you don't even do your homework. I don't believe this. I don't believe you exist."

In November, Raj and Corinne went on a two-week camping trip to Yosemite National Park. The only reason the trip was not perfect was Corinne's hay fever.

She brought along some old antihistamines and, for backup, some 24-hour allergy capsules she had just bought. The old pills kept her sneezing under control for the first day, as the two of them hiked through some Indian ruins and set up a pup tent. But, by 7 p.m. the second night of the trip, Corinne's allergies were acting up so badly that she dumped the old pills and took a new one. 

At 10 p.m. Corinne was sneezing again. She took a second new capsule. Then she and Raj crawled into their sleeping bags. Raj had something to say to her before they went to sleep, but Corinne was really tired; she just could not seem to understand him. She drifted off.

In the morning, Raj was very happy. Corinne asked him what he was so happy about.

"You're kidding, aren't you?" Raj said. "Last night I asked you to marry me and you said yes." Corinne had no memory of it.

Corinne had an appointment with her psychiatrist (she had bipolar disorder) not long after Raj and Corinne returned from the trip. She usually saw her psychiatrist only for med maintenance, but this time she had a problem to discuss.

"Is it possible to love somebody and not know it?" Corinne asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't feel love for Raj," Corinne said, "but as I was dropping off to sleep in that pup tent, I told him I loved him."

"Large doses of antihistamines can sometimes act like truth serum," the psychiatrist said.

"Oh," Corinne said. She jerked upright. "Wait a minute! That would mean that, deep down inside, I do want to marry Raj."

"Do you?" the psychiatrist asked.

"I don't know. I mean, I can't tell. I haven't figured out what love is yet, so how do I know if I want to marry him?"

"Maybe you're intellectualizing. If you keep trying to define love, you'll never get around to taking responsibility for your feelings for Raj. You'll just continue repressing them."

"Why would I want to repress my feelings for Raj?"

"Because you can't let yourself trust him. Maybe you're afraid you'll lose control over your life."

"Lose control! I haven't had any control over my life for years. I can't get a decent job. My family has barely spoken to me since I was diagnosed, and when they do I can't stand it, they're so prejudiced. I get a pain, I take an aspirin for it, and the pain doesn't go away because it comes from the disorder and it's out of my control. I can't even control my emotions from one day to the next, or the thoughts in my own mind --"

Corinne stopped herself. Her psychiatrist was right.

The following Friday, Raj and Corinne again danced at the Orange Monkey. Raj was still waiting for her final answer to his proposal, so Corinne drew Alice, a bipolar who was a little older than Corinne, aside and asked for her advice.

Alice surprised her; she herself had been married. Her divorce had been finalized last year. Her ex had been given custody of both of the kids because Alice was the one diagnosed with mental illness. Then he and the kids had moved 2000 miles away.

"It's much less painful not to have kids in the first place than to have them and then lose them," Alice said.

On the first Saturday in December Corinne's phone rang, jolting her out of a sound early-morning sleep.

"It's snowing!" Raj yelled into the phone like an excited kid.

Corinne asked, "Don't they have snow in India?"

"Only on the mountaintops," Raj said.

Corinne grabbed breakfast, then met Raj outside the graduate dorm. They played in the snow, laughing, for an hour. Corinne taught Raj how to pack snow into tight balls. They had a mock snowball fight. Then she taught Rag how to make "angels". Corinne had always thought her childhood a miserable one, but now she was reminded how she had loved playing in the snow with her brothers.

Once they were back in Raj's room, he sprang still another surprise on her. "I'm dropping out of U of R," he said. I've decided that physics is not for me. I'm going back to India in two weeks."

"But I thought you wanted to marry me."

"I do. More than anything. Marry me and come live with me in India."

Corinne had been having a hard enough time trusting Raj enough to commit to him; now he expected her to trust him enough to emigrate with him as well.

"You'll never have to tutor juvenile delinquents again," Raj told her. "You won't have to work at all. I'll support you."

"Then what would I do all day?" Corinne asked.

Raj seemed puzzled by Corinne's reaction. Apparently he thought that women didn't like to work outside the home, that they enjoyed working in the kitchen more.

"You'd help my mother at home," Raj said. "In India, when a man marries, his bride leaves her family and becomes part of his family. She follows the orders of his mother."

"Oh, God!" Corinne said. She broke into tears and ran out the door.

The following Monday, Renee had finally finished all the homework Corinne had assigned to her.

"All right," Corinne said.

Renee beamed. "Cruds, Robb!" she said. "I don't believe you exist!"

Corinne continued to tutor Renee. And, whenever she could, she pondered Raj's proposal.

The next Friday, at the Orange Monkey, Alice came up to Corinne wearing seven layers of clothing. She was obviously quite hot, but she refused to take anything off.

Corinne asked her why. Alice took her into the next room and whispered that there was a doctor present.

"Doctors have needles," Alice said. "He could inject me with a knockout drug and take me back to the mental ward."

Corinne wanted to know what was so bad about the mental ward.

Alice said, "Most of the time, there's nothing to do." She described the institutional food as well. But those things were no big deal to Corinne. She asked how Alice had been treated in the mental ward.

"The staff are really polite to you. They aren't abusive." Alice's voice trailed off and she peered at her hands.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"It's hard to put it into words. I don't like the way they're polite to us, as if we're stupid, or babies, or worthless. And then they make us attend self-confidence building classes! But that's not the problem, I guess. The problem is that I'm locked in there and my whole day is planned by somebody else. When I'm in there, I have absolutely no control over my own life."

As Corinne drove home, she saw the sexy billboards and heard the sexy songs on her car radio. She had to admit that their message was compelling. Do it! Live your life while you're young and can enjoy it! Surrender!

But then Corinne remembered that British guy, so cool and confident. "I take what I can from everybody. Just a few moments here, a few moments there. Then I go on."

Corinne decided that she was not going to marry Raj.

Corinne met Raj at the Monroe County airport, to see him off.

"Won't you please reconsider?" Raj said in his beautiful Hindi/British accent. "I'm going to hitchhike across Europe before I go home. Let me take you with me."

Corinne thought of a Byzantine cathedral in Istanbul she had been wanting to see. She thought of Balkan folkdancers, their arms entwined, moving to exotic music. She thought of a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. She thought of Raj's mother who had nothing much to do all day but boss her daughters and daughters-in-law around.

"I'm sorry, Raj," Corinne said. "No."

"When we get back to India," Raj went on anyway, "I'll gather sweet jasmine petals and shower them over your pretty head."

Corinne's eyes clouded over. Jasmine petals, as far as she knew, were the sweetest things in existence.

Raj, seeing the change of expression, said, "So you can be romantic after all."

"I've always been romantic," Corinne said. "It's not about romance. It's about trust."

Raj smiled sadly. "You could have fooled me," he said. He put his arm around Corinne's waist as his friend took their picture.

"Reconsider?" Raj asked one more time.

"No."

Corinne did not wave as Raj's plane took flight. It would have hurt all the more.