Rashmi
Saturday passes by without so much as a hint of progress towards any resolution. Rupali’s not picking up the phone and only responding minimally to texts. Today isn’t a good day for talking, apparently, and we’ll simply have to talk some other time.
It’s not lost on me that the thing she’s so occupied with is hanging out with Nichole.
And so I’m left to my own devices, too restless to relax and too aimless to get anything useful done.
How can a crisis this huge be so
boring
?
Household tasks do little to help take my mind off things. The kitchen is already taken care of, sweeping the floors is done way too quickly, cleaning the shower drain is a bizarrely painless task. I am faced with the looming dread that I am going to have to sit down and try to relax, somehow.
Ru hasn’t given me her side of our usual check-in texts yet, and I’m feeling the tension building the longer she takes. We’re getting close to the time when my mom likes to call. If we don’t synchronize today I’ll have to go for a second round of improvised bullshitting, and as it stands, I genuinely doubt that I can pull it off on my own. I’m not exactly thinking clearly, given everything that’s happened.
Last night feels so long ago now. I was so sure that I could do this, that I could just finally stop living in denial, that Ru and I could actually make this
work
. Foolishly, naively, stupidly, I saw us dancing at our wedding together, a happy bride and groom for all the world to see, but knowing in our hearts what we were and what we’d be as soon as we were free to live our own lives somewhere far, far, far away. Without her, I’m not sure if I can.
Without her… I’m not even sure I want to.
There’s a limit to how long I can keep up the charade. If I don’t come out to them myself, they’re guaranteed to catch on at some point. I’ve been avoiding cameras for a while now, showing just my face if I absolutely have to and letting baggy clothes hide the work the hormones have been doing. This works as long as I’m away from my parents, but what about in person?
Eventually, I’m not going to be able to hide it anymore, and then it’s game over. Cut off just like the family cut off Tahani, ostracized like I’m infectious, as if even saying my name out loud will invite a demon to come poison my cousins with transgenderism.
The ones my age might feel guilty about it, for a while. Might hesitate, might be tempted to reach out to their lost family member. And then they’ll fall in line. Double down on the rationalization and do everything they can to make sure it doesn’t happen to them. Make it clear that they’re
not
like me.
After all, that’s what I did to Tahani.
Masterful fucking gambit, to borrow a phrase from my… fake girlfriend.
I don’t remember the last time I spoke to Tahani. I don’t have her phone number, or e-mail, or any way to reach out. It’s really bugging me right now. Not that it’s an excuse. Rupali’s known Tahani for longer than she’s known even me. She’s been in touch with Tahani for all these years, and I had plenty of chances to just turn to her and say, “Sorry I’ve been a fucking crapstain, can I get Tahani’s deets so I can beg for forgiveness?”
One of the ways I rationalized my silence was by asking myself if it would have done her any good even if I had contacted her, or apologized. It’s now sinking in how cowardly and paper-thin that reasoning was. Yeah, if I made a big show of pleading at her feet, I’d just be putting on a show to assuage my guilty conscience. Making it her problem. That would suck.
But also, she’d be less alone.
Well, Tahani’s far from the only woman I’ve completely let down. I check my phone again to no avail. With no sign of Nichole and nothing still from Ru, I may as well check in on Katherine. I take off my gloves and put the cleaning products back under the sink, peeking at my phone one last time before I step out of the bathroom. Katherine’s sitting at the dining table, still glued to her laptop, scrolling through RCBG server. She perks up and turns her head with a smile when she hears me coming.
“Ah, Rashmi! Like a ray of sun parting the dark clouds of this horrifying day!” Kathy turns around in her chair, beaming.
That kind of stops me in my tracks. I blink slowly. I didn’t really expect Katherine of all people to have a line like that ready to go.
“Hey um. A what?”
Katherine rubs the back of her head, smiling sheepishly. “It’s a reference to the etymology of your chosen name. Thought it would be amusing. No matter, you ought to witness these horrors alongside me.”
Katherine flips from happy to serious with such speed it gives me whiplash. She turns her laptop as I sit down next to her and directs me to look at her Accord client.
“The first piece of context you ought to have is that Laura the Impenetrable has conceded.” She flicks through channels, showing me excerpts of rancid, angry discourse at a dizzying pace. “Trickster supporters have immediately launched into a vast campaign smearing anyone associated with Laura, saying they are all impostors, and if you look…”
Kathy types in a query in the search bar, bringing up a list of messages all having one thing in common: Mentioning Nichole.
Pages and pages of texts, all demanding Nichole renounce her association with Laura and answer for some unspecified crime. Accusations that she’s been a trans woman grifting the server all along, accusations that she’s a
cis
woman, accusations that she was pretending to date Katherine, all these and more blur into each other, dizzying me.
“What do they mean by ‘Sephichole betting pool’?” I’m struggling to keep my jaw from dropping as I stare at the flood of messages.
“Oh, that. Have you been contacted by a user who goes by ‘Only In This For The Money To Be Honest’?”
Squinting a little at the username, I shake my head. “I think if I ever got enough attention on there that people started messaging me, it would be a red flag.”
Kathy smiles. “And you are wise to lay low. It shows restraint I sadly lack. Regardless, part of his operation is to run various bets on the server, and one of them is about the nature of the relationship between me and Nichole.”
“That’s fucked up.” I put a hand on Kathy’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry the server treats you like this.”
The implication that the treatment she gets from the server is wrong clearly takes her aback, as Kathy just stares at me for a moment. “I mean, when you put it like that,” she finally says with a confused smile, “I suppose server-wide speculation about the nature of my relationship to my childhood best friend might be… unpleasant, yes.”
Before I get to say anything, she continues: “Not that there aren’t auxiliary benefits for me and Nichole, however! As it turns out, monetary investment in our continued presence on the server has the side effect of disincentivizing attempts to oust either of us, and so the subjects of bets of this nature enjoy a degree of safety on the server which, I suppose, gives me some reason to thank Alex, now that I think about it? That’s his name, by the way. Alex. Um. My point is it’s not entirely bad!”
“Whatever you say, Kathy.” I’d be more convinced if she didn’t look and sound like she was sprinting far, far away from having to deal with the subject.
“All in all, I am far more concerned by the impact this situation has on Nichole. As you can see, the pressure to condemn Laura and the ideas associated with her is immense; I fear that this might become a significant barrier to her self-actualization as a trans woman, should the malign whispers of this accursed place retain their hold on her mind.”
I squeeze her shoulder. “I’m sorry, girl.”
Kathy’s voice gets shakier as she speaks. She tears up a little and continues with a sniffle: “This damned place is poison to her, Rashmi. It has encouraged so much cruelty from her in just six months, I am terrified of what it could do to her given more time!”
We stare at the endless deluge of madness displayed on the monitor, where users with a variety of ridiculous boob puns for their display names all echo the same sentiment: Trans women are deceivers who can never be trusted.
“Shit. They really ramped up overnight.”
“They did, and in the worst possible way for our agenda. If she now realizes that we are trans women, she will trust nothing we say, and our hopes of saving her will be—”
Kathy doesn’t manage to finish the sentence. She grabs my arm and clings to it for comfort.
“I just want my friend back, Rashmi.” Kathy whimpers. “It is my fault that she got absorbed into the server, my fault that I did not recognize the identity of my best friend, and everything she has done since is a consequence of my failures!”
“Girl,
no
. It’s not your fault.” I look into Kathy’s eyes to make sure she’s getting this. “Influence from the server plays a role, but she’s still a grown-ass woman. She’s responsible for her own actions, and is especially responsible for the way she’s treated you.”
Kathy looks at me for a few seconds, then nods, hesitantly. “I suppose, but things would still have gone differently had I acted to prevent her from falling into this state to begin with.”
“Well, Nichole is choosing to continue with her nonsense. She could take initiative to cut the shit any time.”
Kathy takes a deep breath, straightening herself out as she lets go of my arm. “You are right, of course. Nichole is capable of exercising her own agency in manners less absurd and destructive than her current course of action. We may certainly hope that she sees sense and refuses to comply with the server’s new dogma, but under these circumstances I would hardly count on it. Rupali remains our best hope at reaching her.”
“Yeah. If I can actually get a hold of her for a conversation.”
Rupali still isn’t responding beyond the bare minimum, and the restlessness feels like it’ll never end. I should be spending all this time doing something,
anything
.
Homework, for example. I’ve got unfinished problem sets to work on, and time to get them done. I’ll just sit down and grind through some differential equations.
Well. I would, if I was able to focus on this chapter at all. Rather than a set of equations to solve, it’s asking me to demonstrate that solutions can exist in the first place, and determine how the solutions might be constructed.
I miss when I was being taught methods to solve things, not whatever this is.
I end up just doodling idly in the margins, not really trying to draw, but definitely not making any progress towards even starting on the first problem.
The clock creeps onwards and my mind is inevitably drawn towards figuring out something to eat. It’ll have to be khichdi or something, I’m really not up for anything remotely complex, or going out to source ingredients we don’t have laying around.
As I make my way to the kitchen, I peek through Kathy’s door and see that she’s still scrolling through the server. Poor girl’s probably been at it since we talked. I doubt she even knows what time it is.
“Kathy, do you have any dinner plans?”
“Huh?” Kathy practically jumps out of her seat as she’s snapped back to reality, out of whichever discourse she’s been sinking into.
“I’ll make two portions, then.”
I wish I’d remembered to soak the lentils earlier, while I was cleaning, but I’ll just have to boil everything for twenty minutes longer. I grab my rice cooker from the overhead cabinet and start throwing ingredients in: toor dal, washed rice, a quartered onion, cloves of garlic, a pinch of salt and turmeric. Keeping it basic. While that simmers away, I dice some onions and tomatoes on my chopping board, temper whole spices in the frying pan I use for eggs, then add the veggies to caramelize. As soon as the cooker opens I pour everything on top and mix the flavors in.
“Grab a bowl, Kathy!”
“Coming!”
She scurries out of her hidey-hole, finally. With dinner on the table and Kathy dragged out of her most private inner sanctum chamber–or however she wants to phrase it–I can relax just a little bit.
“This is incredible, Rashmi!” Kathy exclaims the moment she gets a taste of the food.
“Is it? It’s just khichdi.” I can’t help but smile at having my cooking appreciated.
Too busy with her food, Kathy simply nods and, of all things, gives me a thumbs-up.
“Still no news on the Ru front, by the way. Just the bare minimum to keep our stories straight for our parents.” I have a quick sip of water. “We saw a romcom today, apparently. Rich lady who’s got it all meets a kind freelance architect with a heart of gold and a wallet of nothing.”
“And then?” Kathy perks up, as if she actually cares where this is going.
“She quits her job and they move to the countryside.”
“I take it the architect is not a woman?”
“Nope. Just some guy.”
Kathy smiles a little, shaking her head. “A vapid genre with little to offer, and yet… perhaps watching some might be an idea worth considering?”
The way she carefully suggests it in an almost apologetic tone, you’d think she was trying to defuse a bomb or something. “Carry on? I’m curious what you’re thinking here.”
“Well, given our present situation, supposing that we may in fact need to commit to our inauthentic relationship, would it not behoove us to research the most predictable pitfalls of such an arrangement?” Kathy waves her spoon around contemplatively as she talks. “I was thinking we could begin these efforts by perusing a collection of films about the subject, such that we at minimum do not suffer failure points so pedestrian they’ve been foreseen even by mediocre heterocentric writing.”
Her approach to this is absolutely fascinating. I need to study her in a lab.
“Do you often research stuff like this using fiction?” I tilt my head to the side and smile at her, just a little.
“To be clear.” Kathy flails her hands defensively as she speaks, face turning just a little bit red. “I am not suggesting we take these plotlines at face value, but rather that we take a critical approach and examine the underlying assumptions held by the writers! I have no expectation that these movies will, by themselves, be sufficient to fully understand the nature of our plan.”
I shake my head a little. “If you want us to watch movies together you could just say so, you know.”
“My desire to watch movies with you is irrelevant to our reasons for doing so. Whether said desire exists or not, that is.”
“Well, I’m in. How about you pick out movies while I’m doing the dishes, and—”
“Absolutely not. The duty of cleaning up falls on me, as you were the one to cook.”
Kathy is stone-faced, determined, completely unmovable.
“I mean, I won’t complain.”
“Besides.” Kathy gets up, taking my empty plate with her as she steps over to the sink, taking the pot and pan with her as she goes. “We already know our first movie. You should know your cover story that much, at least.”
As Kathy finishes up cleaning, I microwave some popcorn for us. We make our way to the couch, me in the left corner and Kathy on the opposite side of it, claiming all the throw pillows to construct something that resembles a nest for herself as I take point on finding the movie.
We’re off to a good start, with establishing shots of an urban landscape so generic it could be practically anywhere and a protagonist I’m immediately not invested in.
The red-haired, fiery businesswoman on screen strides forward on the busy street, phone in one hand and expensive takeout meal in the other. She’s too particular about the details to trust her personal assistant with this kind of thing and is caught up in a heated conversation about getting ‘the files’ sorted out by the afternoon.
“You know, I’m curious about what it is she does, precisely,” Kathy observes from her corner of the couch, where she’s curled up in a strange albeit certainly cozy-looking position. “Clearly she has a management role, but the narrative appears completely uninterested in showing what industry.”
“Girlbossing, I think.” I shrug and grab some more popcorn from the bowl. “The company just makes magazine covers with her on them, and interviews about how successful she is.”
The quip gets a little snort-laugh out of Kathy. “Yeah! No wonder she is steeped in misery, she is acutely aware of the utter meaninglessness of her life’s work!”
In a fit of plot-mandated inattentiveness, the acclaimed executive slams face-first into a man who’s equally absorbed in a phone call while carrying a bag filled with rolled-up blueprints and what looks like a whole craft store’s supply of pens and rulers. The two fall to the pavement, mutually apologetic as they scramble to pick up the perfectly arranged mess they’ve made.
“Interesting choice to have her carry food in particular,” Kathy comments. “Famously the damage done by pavement contact there is more severe than for non-perishable goods.”
I watch the two make eye contact as their hands touch, both of them reaching for the same blueprint. “Yeah I wonder where they’re going with that.”
The man, who’s conventionally attractive in an inoffensive and sort of boring way, offers to buy the woman a new lunch, of course.
Kathy’s not having it. “If this man ruined my lunch with his carelessness and then made a shameless attempt at courtship framed as compensation for his transgressions, I would wish to see him disintegrated.”
“
Disintegrated?
” I smirk just a little at that. “Bit extreme, isn’t it?”
“His affront is extreme. It is only fitting that it elicits this response.” Kathy shrugs as she sips from her energy drink, even though it’s six in the evening.
“What if it was a woman instead, though?”
“Under those circumstances, I suppose I would show some lenience. I do not believe in the ‘meet cute’ trope, however. It is a wholly implausible contrivance; I would be irritated regardless of how cute she was.”
Our protagonist, meanwhile, finds herself yearning for the scruffy-yet-earnest man as she goes about her day, which consists of international calls, photoshoots and a never-ending series of assistants asking her to make judgment calls on nebulous contracts and situations which sound a little too important for how nonspecific they are.
I end up zoning out for a bit, admittedly. By the time I’m paying attention again, the guy’s making a huge romantic gesture. By the looks of it, it’s causing a huge commotion in the office.
“Do they not have security?” Kathy sounds as baffled as I feel. “I mean, he does not work in this place. Why did they let him set up this contraption?”
“Also how did he do this? Isn’t he an architect or something?”
The contraption on screen is far, far outside the realm of architecture, covered in lights and oddly christmas-y for a movie that otherwise has shown no indication of taking place in December.
The music and framing really try to sell that this is a genuinely sweet romantic gesture. Business Woman is overjoyed by the antics of the man, and they choose to move away from the city together.
“Good… for them?” I can’t help but feel confused as they move to a place in the middle of absolutely fucking nowhere.
Kathy is equally puzzled. “What about their jobs? Do they have an internet connection?”
“I don’t think the director cared enough to answer that question, Kathy. I think caring about the logistics here is a losing game for both of us.” I shake my head. “Next movie?”
“Certainly. I believe this next one will be more relevant to our circumstances, and less reliant on utterly absurd grand romantic gestures—though, I have to ask, did you also find that man’s behavior utterly abhorrent in how possessive he was towards the main character?”
“Come to think of it, yeah. He seemed really entitled to her, and a lot of the time the antics that were supposed to come off as ‘charming’ were more like… stalking? How many times did he just sort of show up unexpectedly on her routine again?”
“I counted eight. Three of them
after
the false breakup.” Kathy wrinkles her nose in disgust. “In truth, I found this to be a particularly heinous example of how the romantic comedy genre’s heteronormative conventions end up condoning some behavior that would be highly inappropriate in real life.”
I shrug. “Yeah, it wasn’t good, that’s for sure. Fake dating research movie now?”
“Yup!”
The movie presents us with a real dilemma: Our protagonist, a movie-quirky straight woman, is in love with a man who isn’t interested. However, a nearly-identical man is willing to pretend to date her to make him jealous.
“This makes significantly less sense than our predicament, I must say.” Kathy comments as she perches her chin on the palm of her hand, leaning forward with interest. “Surely the false-partner must realize that with no one to inflict jealousy upon, he stands to gain nothing from this immense effort?”
“Maybe they’ll explain his deal eventually?” I’m willing to give the movie something of a chance, at least. The characters seem endearing enough to carry this for the ninety-minute runtime.
My patience is rewarded with a whole lot of scenes dedicated to the ostensibly fake relationship: The setup stages of planning out how they will act around each other, their first few encounters with the lead’s intended target, and a strange commitment to keeping up the appearance of a genuine relationship even when nobody is watching.
Well, not
that
strange, I guess.
The guy in particular seems extremely dedicated to selling the fake relationship, going so far as to perform a serenade for the woman in public.
“An interesting, if somewhat ridiculous performance. I certainly would not demand a public serenade from you, Rashmi.” Kathy empties her drink, grinning at me. “We can stick to more practical ways of making Nichole jealous.”
“Yeah, it’s a bit much to lug around a musical instrument and everything.”
I say that, but I’m not sure if I mean it. The look on Kathy’s face if I could pull that off might be worth the effort, by itself. Not to mention how it’d piss Nichole off.
As the story progresses, it becomes increasingly apparent that the main character’s infatuation with the man she’s trying to make jealous is the weakest part of the story.
“I cannot help but notice that compared to the man she is pursuing, her dynamic with the false boyfriend appears superior on all counts.” Kathy leans back on the couch, having somehow migrated from the opposite corner to the middle seat. “Their communication appears significantly healthier, at the very least.”
“I mean, they’ve got a bit of an unfair advantage from just communicating in the first place, but yeah.” I shrug.
“I suppose. I am finding that this film is failing to motivate the relationship she is pursuing, however.” She sighs. “It lacks the depth and history motivating our circumstances, and as it stands, I feel the best resolution in their situation is for the fake relationship to be actualized instead?”
As if hearing our commentary and responding directly, the ostensibly fake couple share a kiss during their supposedly fake candlelit dinner date at a restaurant where their target works, to his frustration. I’m suddenly struck by the image of doing the same with Kathy, in front of Nichole. Smirking while Nichole’s stupid, beautiful face contorts into an ugly scowl on seeing me shove my tongue down her girlfriend’s throat. The thought makes me shiver a little.
“Oh, that is certainly an idea.” Katherine, seemingly of the same mind, practically crawls towards me. “We ought to set aside some time to practice, in case we see an opportunity to spring this upon Rupali and Nichole.”
“Practice… kissing?” I feel my heart skip a beat at this sudden turn in the conversation, and the conspiratorial glint in Kathy’s eyes feels oddly dangerous, for someone so broadly nonthreatening.
She tilts her head to the side. “Yes? It would be a shameful failure if we were undermined by a lack of experience in the act, would it not? If we prepare in advance, we will be equipped to deploy the maneuver at the precise moment where it benefits us the most.”
Kathy’s reasoning is very, very persuasive. I think. I’m not sure, I’m a bit distracted by the idea of ‘practicing’ kissing with her. I can’t stop staring at her lips.
“Right. I mean. We can. We should. Shouldn’t we?”
My mouth is so dry. Can I get up and grab a drink of water first? I don’t want to suggest it in case it interrupts whatever train of thought Kathy’s on that’s leading her to almost drape herself over me.
“I am of course acutely aware that you likely have some more experience than I do, given your history with Rupali.” Kathy pulls back a little, twiddling her thumbs as she looks away from me. “So, um, you would have to be patient while I catch up.”
I blink. “Oh! How much experience do you think I have here?”
Zero. The correct answer is zero. The whole time that Rupali and I have known each other, I’ve never once dared to kiss her. Partially from disgust with myself, and partially because I had a deep-set fear that God would smite me on the spot if I tried.
“Well, certainly more than none whatsoever.” Kathy shrugs. “Nichole and I never actually kissed at any point.”
My jaw hangs open. “The fuck do you
mean
, Nichole never kissed you!?”
How the fuck does that idiot claim to be attracted to women if she never once thought to press her lips all over Kathy’s soft, tempting body?
“My mouth was occupied with other parts of her,” she responds, matter-of-factly. “We strictly speaking never defined the relationship as romantic in nature. It was primarily sexual.”
Why am I so sweaty? I discreetly wipe my hands on the couch as I speak. “You two… really had an absolutely unbelievable thing.”
“Oh, she certainly found my skill to be unbelievable, that much I know.”
I nearly choke on air.
She says it so nonchalantly. I’m well aware of what she’s talking about. How could I not know? I heard exactly what Nichole and Katherine were getting up to when they started their weird hatefucking thing, because Nichole forgot to close the damn door!
“I can imagine,” I blurt out without thinking, desperately trying and failing to suppress the vivid imagery of Kathy’s head bobbing up and down between
my
legs. I know exactly what sounds she makes. The movie is
not
helping, with the drawn-out lull that it seems to be in at the moment leaving me with nothing else to focus or comment on.
“The technique of it is honestly quite simple. The difficult part was sifting through the massive volume of pornography returned by search engines while looking for genuine educational material.” Kathy just keeps idly elaborating, and I don’t think she’s even aware that I’m starting to have a meltdown right next to her.
“Oh, yeah, that must’ve been pretty uh. Challenging.” The fake-dating couple in the movie are talking about meeting their parents, for some reason. I’ve completely lost track of why they would do so. “I think you deserve a lot of… credit… for putting in the work… to get it right?”
“Yes, I am glad to hear you recognize my efforts!” Kathy is absolutely beaming. I could—
anyone
could treat her so much better than what she’s used to.
“No problem!” I give an awkward thumbs-up, smiling a little as I desperately cling to sanity. Is she teasing me on purpose? “Er. Why are you taking the hoodie off?”
Kathy stops mid-motion, her head turning to face me despite being completely inside the garment. “Oh, I was simply reminded that I had been meaning to do so, as it has gotten quite warm in here. Is that not obvious? I mean, you are perspiring rather heavily.” She resumes taking the hoodie off, revealing a black camisole with an
obscenely
low neckline. “I suppose I may as well let some fresh air in, while I am at it.”
Throwing the hoodie into the corner of the couch, Kathy gets up and walks over to the window. She stretches to reach the handle in a way where her back arches so perfectly, she
has
to be doing it on purpose.
Planting her butt–which I will refrain from having an opinion on to the best of my ability–firmly back on the couch, Kathy is right back to halfway-focusing on the movie.
I try to steer the conversation back to mundane waters. “So, the guy is juggling. Romantically.”
“Oh, I almost forgot what I was talking about!” I’m starting to wonder if she’s actually some kind of sex demon doing this on purpose. “The really tricky part was training away my gag reflex, which took a few attempts to—”
My phone starts buzzing. My breath catches in my throat when I see who it is I have to talk to while trying to pray away my erection.
“
Shit!
It's mom. Pause?” I spring to my feet and pick up the phone while Kathy pauses the movie, pacing to put some distance between me and her so I can
fucking focus
.
“Kaalappan! Turn on the video, let me see your handsome face, beta!” Mom’s voice is somehow even more painful than usual today, and her overbearing demands are off to a strong start.
“Hi, Amma. I just got out of the shower, so if you don’t mind I’d rather—”
“Arre, you were out of the shower last time too! Fine, but I really would like to see my son’s face one of these days, Kaal!”
I wish I’d just showered. I need an ice cold shower before I can have this conversation properly. Kathy is at least catching onto what’s going on, offering her sympathies with a glance.
Mom just keeps going. “How is your wife?”
My
ex
is currently hooking up with my roommate, and by the way, we’re all lesbians, and my
other
roommate is currently lounging on the couch in a skimpy outfit making me lose my fucking mind, is what I don’t say for my own self-preservation. “She’s fine, the semester’s ramping up a bit now so studies are keeping us both busy, you know how it is. We did get a chance to watch a movie together though!
Moonlight Stars
, it was… okay I guess?”
It was shit. It was complete garbage. The title doesn’t even make any sense for the plot of the movie.
“Oh, I think I’ve seen that one! With the executive and the handsome architect, right?”
“That’s the one.” I glance over at Kathy, grimacing, and she seems to agree with my sentiment.
“Well beta, it’s good that you can find some time for your wife during your studies. I hope those boys you live with aren’t causing too much trouble?”
I almost blurt out ‘what boys?’ before catching myself. “Haha, yeah, no they’re pretty quiet most days. Gamers, you know.”
“Even Jeffrey?” Mom’s innocent comment is like a dagger through my gut. “I thought he’d be popular with the ladies!”
“Oh uh. Jeff had to move out. Because, uh–” Improvise something. Quick. Fuck. “He had to drop out of school after getting dumped. It really broke him.”
Great, that’s a
huge
lie with ramifications I’ll have to follow up on. Amazing move, now I have to get Rupali involved so she can also take part in the story of our heartbroken friend, Jeff.
Kathy is staring at me intently, taking in every detail of my bullshitting. I’d almost forgotten she’s genuinely passionate about elaborate lies for their own sake.
“Oh, what a shame. You and the others really should check on him sometime, I’m sure he’d appreciate some support! Don’t let that man ruin his life over some girl!”
I think I feel a headache coming on, presumably from the tension in my entire fucking body. “Yeah, I do wish he’d forget about that girl. She’s really not right for him. I’ll get the guys along sometime to cheer him up a bit, maybe we’ll take him to an… escape room or something.”
Escape rooms will have to do for an attempt at coming up with something not too queer-sounding that doesn’t involve going out to drink.
“Oh they have those over there? I’ve heard they’re fun, have you been?”
“Well, no, but I’ve been meaning to, you know how it is, busy student life and all.” Please don’t ask follow-up questions, and Kathy, whatever it is you’re doing on your phone over there, please don’t be some cluelessly sexual distraction!
“How much do those things cost for a group of, say, four people anyway? I’d imagine it’s not cheap!”
Shit. I have no fucking idea how much they cost, and also, why is Kathy getting up and walking towards me all of a sudden?
“Well, it’s about, uh—”
Kathy silently presents me with a full list of available offerings from a local place, prices included.
“Well for a group of four it’ll be a hundred and fifty for the hour.” I mouth ‘thank you’ at Kathy as she smirks at me, before strutting victoriously back to the couch. Luckily I’m too full of adrenaline to be distracted by the swaying of her hips.
“Oh, that’s not too bad at all, beta!”
Why did I go into specifics like that? If Kathy hadn’t just saved my ass, it would’ve been so obvious that I’ve done jack shit to look into escape rooms. I need to stop adding completely useless lies like this, they’re a disaster waiting to happen!
The conversation just keeps dragging on beyond that. My cousin’s doing really well in school, they’re all so proud of him, he’s a real prodigy in math, just incredibly good at multiplication tables for a seven-year-old. My other cousin? Well he’s trying his best, and that’s what matters.
My list of variations on “is that so?” and “oh, that’s interesting!” is depleted faster than I can come up with new ones, and again Kathy is curled up on the couch as I pace around the room wondering how long it’s possible for this to keep going.
“Are you coming home for the midterm break, by the way? Your father and I miss you, it’s been so long since we’ve gotten to spend time together in person!”
Nope. Absolutely not. Even the suggestion puts a pit in my stomach, the room spinning around me as I sit down, clutching the dining table for stability. “Well, the thing about that break is it’s only really a break for the academic faculty. Us students have to spend it catching up with homework and practicing like crazy for exams, I’m afraid.”
Please buy it please buy it please buy it.
“Ah, of course, you’re so diligent. No worries, we’ll wait until you have time, but do keep us posted! I’d love to get to meet your roommates and see the town sometime, while we’re at it!”
“Sure, yeah, I’ll… see if they’re available, you know, if there’s ever a chance for that.” They don’t exist. The real-life people they’re based on are women now.
“Anyway I won’t keep you, I’m sure you’ve got important studies to attend to, hardworking young man that you are! Bye-bye!”
“Goodbye, Amma.”
I can breathe again. Better savor it while it lasts.
Fuck. I
need
to talk to Rupali. We might not be able to salvage our relationship but we have to at least keep up appearances, figure out how we’re going to make this whole thing
work
.
What am I even doing? Why did I think I could transition? How did I convince myself that yesterday was anything other than a false hope to torment me?
I’m staring into the floor feeling the weight of the entire universe bearing down upon me. I’m fucked. Whether it’s today or sometime soon, I’ll slip up, the family will uncover what Ru and I have been hiding from them, and disown us both. My life is going to be over, nothing will work out, and I may as well give up, get a haircut, drop out of RCBG and pass on the hormones to someone who can make better use of them.
“Hey.”
A warm, soft feeling brushes against my shoulder. I look to the side. Kathy is there, her arms wrapping around me as she carefully, gently pulls me into a hug.
“You do not have to face this alone. I will support you however I can, to the best of my ability.”
She’s holding me so cautiously, it’s like she’s worried I might shatter under pressure. I can feel my eyes watering, but do my best not to break down crying.
The stress slowly loosens its grip on me. Kathy’s stroking my back gently, and I breathe, calm at last.
How Nichole could ever stand to let go of this girl, I’ll never know.
“Thanks, Kathy. I think I’ll call it for tonight, sorry about the movie.” I hug her back before getting up.
“I will extract what remains to be learned from it, and update you at our next opportunity. I suspect it is about to degrade into a standard love corner misrepresented as a ‘triangle’, however.” Kathy shakes her head as she pulls back and heads over to the couch. “Truly, heteronormativity consigns these plotlines to such dullness. Two prospective partners pining for the same woman while having no interest in each other? Dreadfully uninspired.”
I laugh a little at how quickly she snaps back to film analysis “Yeah, honestly. At least make the guys bi, or something!”
“Precisely!” Kathy throws her hands in the air. “Additionally, if the fake dating plotline inevitably falls victim to writers’ inability to have men and women be friends, I suspect the latter halves of these movies will be of no use to us whatsoever! Is it too much to ask that these ploys are not tainted by their participants inadvertently falling in love?”
Much as I’d enjoy listening to her ramble about badly implemented romcom tropes, I have to cut her off. “Well, it won’t be an issue for us at least.”
“I’m glad we agree. This is why I have faith that we will succeed in this endeavor. But do get some rest, now. Good night Rah-rah!”
I take a few seconds to process that last bit. “Rah…rah?”
“Oh, I was thinking we could make use of cutesy pet names? It would serve to amp up the saccharine obnoxiousness of our performance, such that—”
“Right. I get it. I think we’ll have to hold off on that until ‘Kyley-poo’ is a bit more distant.”
I feel a shiver run down my spine having to say that pet name out loud.
“Ah, yes. My apologies. Of course.” Kathy turns just a little bit pink with embarrassment. “You know, I was never quite clear if that was meant as a pet name, or if she was simply butchering the pronunciation of your necronym.”
“I really hope it was a pet name.” I’m at the door to my room, despite a feeling that I don’t want the conversation to end yet.
“Much as I hope it was, I would not count on it. But good night, Rashmi. Let us convene tomorrow.” Kathy salutes me like a huge dork.
“Good night!” I close the door behind me.
I text Ru asking if she’s got time to call.
To my surprise, without even responding by text first, Ru is the one to call me.
“Well?” Her voice isn’t quite the relief I was hoping for.
“Rupali, we need to talk about what’s going on. All of it. Please?”
I hear something in the background, someone in the room with Ru. Nichole, probably, offering some commentary rendered indistinct by lacking audio quality.
“I mean, it’s been a long day for both of us. Let’s meet up tomorrow, then we can talk about the mess you’ve made.”
Rupali’s voice is so cold, so distant. It hurts, but at least she’s giving me a chance. “Tomorrow works. How about–”
I quickly check the apartment group chat. Desdemona has been back to us with details on her visit, right down to the time. “How about one in the afternoon?” So that I don’t have to be there when Des is here.
“Sure. My place?”
“That works for me.”
“I’ll see you then?”
“Yeah. See you then. I’m glad we can—”
She hangs up before I finish speaking.
Tomorrow. We’ll talk, and we’ll figure it all out tomorrow. It’s going to be fine. I’ll tell her about Nichole and Katherine’s situation, I’ll apologize for my own behavior, and then maybe, just maybe, if she deigns to forgive me, we can finally start to make things work.
Tahani
It’s a windy night. The branches of the tree outside my window lightly tap on the glass in an irregular rhythm. My phone is the only source of light in my room, the dimmed screen slightly illuminating my bedsheets as I wait for mom to pick up the call. One, two, three, four rings…
“Hani?”
I take a breath. Mom’s making tea; I hear the kettle boiling away in the background. I’m glad she’s up now, though I’m concerned about how late she works.
“Hi Mom. Sorry it’s been a while since I called. I know I’m a really terrible daughter, but if it’s any consolation, I’m sort of failing all my interpersonal relationships right now, so like, it’s not
you
or anything, I just suck more generally.”
I fake a bit of a laugh to cut off my own rambling. Play it off as a weird, distasteful little joke, don’t be a burden to Mom on top of everyone else.
“Anyway! Enough about me, how are you?”
I’m lying on my side in bed, lights off, phone on speaker in front of my face. My bedroom isn’t where I usually sleep. It’s basically a storage space for my clothes and other stuff at this point, but it does see use when I need some genuine alone time. Well, and on occasions where I bring someone home that the rest of the Tahanicule isn’t interested in.
Tonight I’m sleeping alone, though. I don’t want anyone else to have to be around me when I’m such shit company.
“Oh, you know how it is. The dipshit client at work can’t fill out the right forms to save his own life, so he yells at me when I tell him he fucked up. The cats are getting fatter and making sure we’ll never get our deposit back, and my daughter’s trying to distract from why she called me. Let’s get to the point, beti?”
Insightful as always, huh. “Can’t I just call because I miss hearing your voice, mom?”
“Of course you can, but I can tell when there’s more to it than that. What happened?”
“Well. I don’t know. Just some bullshit, mostly my own fault. Everything kind of sucks right now.” I’m having a hard time even sorting through it all, as the events of the day blur together into an indistinct slurry of everything going wrong all at once. “I miss Sif, for one.”
Sif flew out to a different continent this morning. Zer stupid exchange program starts soon, and the stupid fucking university travel arrangements picked the least convenient departure. Ze had to get up so early I didn’t even get to kiss zir goodbye at the airport.
I should be crying into zir chest right now.
“But ze’s still around to text, right? I’m sure by the time ze’s back, it’ll feel like ze barely even left.”
Mom getting better at using neos makes me smile despite myself. “If I’ve still got a polycule to live with by then, sure.”
I feel like such a piece of shit dropping all this on mom. She’s probably tired, given that she’s working Saturdays again, and here’s her problem daughter with her stupid gay problems. The least I could do after “wanting to live as myself” blew up my mom’s life a second time was be fucking happy.
“Where’s this coming from? Of course it’s going to be fine. Arguments happen in relationships, that doesn’t mean they don’t love you.”
I roll over to the other side, taking my phone with me as I do. No position in the bed is comfortable right now, but at least if I move around it feels like I’m trying to find the right one.
“I fucked up so badly even Ru hates me now, Mom.”
Nothing makes sense anymore. If I can push Ru away, there’s no safety, not really. I’ve always known most people are on a timer until they get sick of me and leave, but I thought Ru was different. The one singular piece of stability I had in an uncertain world.
Had.
Mom’s not having it. “Hani, Ru doesn’t hate you.”
“She hates me because I couldn’t keep my stupid mouth shut about her arranged marriage. And after I made sure she was well and truly sick of my shit, I went ahead and fucked up
again
by bringing Alex home with his dipshit idea of taking back the GSA.”
Why didn’t I just tell him to fuck off? Why did I just let that insensitive, bumbling moron run his mouth around Kim and Bobbie? What was I expecting? ‘Hey everybody guess what? The piece of shit who hurt all of us is up to no good, let’s go gamers, no time to be upset, we’re going to lock in and beat the bad guy!’
Dumbass.
“Tahani, slow down for me please? Breathe, and let’s go through one problem at a time, so we can make sense of all this together.”
Eyes closed. Deep breath. Keep it together. “Okay, mom.”
“Okay, Hani. What’s this about the GSA now? I thought you were done with that crowd of worthless paper-pushers, no? You said you have your hormones sorted out.”
“Quinn is running for GSA president.”
Mom’s silent for a moment. Her voice is low when she speaks. “Them? Really? Would’ve thought they’d torched any goodwill they had left with their rancid attitude by now.”
“I’m not that lucky. It’s ‘xer’ now, by the way. Xe’s running unopposed, and Alex came to us like ‘hey why don’t we try to run someone who’ll be better for the community?’”
And then Bobbie lost hir shit, Kim was swearing and cursing, and I had to be the one consoling them both while trying not to fucking panic about how I’d brought a walking trauma trigger into our living room.
I thought Bobbie would want to know about this at least, or have some ideas in mind for what to do about it. I don’t know why I’d thought zie’d take the news any better than I had. Even leaving aside how Quinn treated me, both Kim and Bobbie’s history with xem is long and unsavory.
“This Alex guy should’ve made that someone else’s problem instead of expecting you to fix it for him. I’m so sorry.”
“I really thought he knew it would be a sensitive subject. He works with Bobbie on some other activism, so I figured he would at least be aware of the history there.” ‘Activism’ is technically true, even though underground hormone medication dealing isn’t usually viewed that way.
I hesitate to explain to mom why Alex would come here, of all places. I don’t think she knows that Kim was GSA president
and
used to date Quinn. He never quite said it, but I think Alex wanted us to convince Kim to un-resign, to return and take charge of the GSA and put everything back how it used to be before Quinn started fucking everything up this year.
Fat chance of that.
“You shouldn’t blame yourself for his shitty behaviour, though.”
“Well, I made him everyone’s problem. That’s kind of what I’m best at. Dragging everyone into my messes.” For mom, too. If it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t be living alone in her cheap shoebox apartment. She wouldn’t have to console me about yet another hole I’ve dug myself into late at night.
I shouldn’t have called her.
“That’s not true, beti. You’re a funny, charming, charismatic, beautiful young lady and the world is lucky to have you in it.”
I laugh bitterly. “Sure, yeah. I guess I am. I’ll sit around looking pretty while the uni’s official queer org is taken over by the crapstain who told Bobbie zie was hotter as a guy. Crack some jokes about it. Embrace being the fucking punchline to everything.”
Bobbie didn’t even get the worst of it. Quinn treated Kim like a fucking traitor. We knew the org wouldn’t take the circumstances of Kim’s departure well, but still. The way xe spread rumors about Kim to turn everyone against her, burning all her bridges for her and making sure she was pushed out of her social circles took us by surprise. Overnight, the organization Kim had been so passionate about was unrecognizable.
I’m sure I can be
funny
about the whole situation. That’s what I do, after all. I’m the insensitive bitch who doesn’t take anything seriously. Who just thinks everything’s a fucking joke.
Mom shouldn’t have to put up with me either. She’s trying her best to cheer me up and I’m shitting all over her for it.
“
Hani
.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, please.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just–It’s just so much. None of us have any idea how to deal with this, and Alex just kept going on about how bad
he
felt for having continued to work with Quinn at the GSA.”
Mom sighs. “Idiot.”
I clench my hand into a fist, nails digging into my palms as I picture his confused, useless face. “Yeah, he feels really bad for helping Quinn screw my partners over. So now he wants us to unfuck it for him.”
“What did Alex think you were going to do? What was his brilliant idea here, that you’d all snap into action and do all the work for him? Please tell me he had some suggestions, at least!””
I smile a bit at that. Mom and I suffer fools about equally well. “Yeah, he had some
shit
suggestions. His brilliant idea was for one of us to run, can you imagine? With all the baggage we have around that org, collectively?”
I want to kick something, get the frustration out by ramming my foot into some suitably disposable object, but there’s nothing in kicking distance. I punch a nearby pillow instead.
“Of course. Who wouldn’t leap at the chance to be a student org president, famously a job that’s well-paid with exciting work to do.” I can practically hear Mom’s eyes roll.
“But it’s not just that, either. Kim already was president, you see.”
“Hm? She was? How many presidents has this org had in the last year, Hani? I feel like every time we talk about it, there’s a new one.”
“Yeah, she was going by a different name at the time, sorry. It went really badly for her, like,
really
badly.” I wish I could leave it at that, but the floodgates are opening and I can’t help but spill it all at mom, now. “The board treated her like complete garbage throughout her time there, and when she tried to get me on the university insurance for HRT they took it as Kim abusing her position!”
She stuck her neck out for me, and she lost so much for it.
“Oh. So she was the one who—I see.”
“Yeah. And because she…” I tear up as I have to explain how Kim trying to help me caused her to get hurt. “She tried to help me, and it backfired on her. She was forced out of the org.”
Rationally, I know it’s not just because she tried to help me. I was there, I saw how it all went down. I know Quinn would have caused trouble sooner or later, even if I hadn’t been the flashpoint. And yet, right now I feel like if I just hadn’t been her problem, she maybe would have been okay. She could’ve turned things around.
“By the sound of it, they’d find an excuse to hate her no matter what, Hani. You can’t blame yourself for their shit behavior.”
“Yeah I can. I’m actually the source of everyone’s problems everywhere, always. I caused climate change, personally. It’s me, mom. The harbinger of doom.” I try to lighten the mood with a little laugh. “Aren’t you proud of my immense importance as the girl who makes the whole world just a little bit more—”
“
Tahani
.” Mom cuts me off with noticeable frustration. “I’m not letting you beat yourself up while pretending you’re just joking around. Stop it. Kim’s situation isn’t your fault, and I’m not going to sit here and listen to you rip yourself to shreds over it.”
I shrink a little at mom having to parent me. “I’m sorry. I’m being a shitty daughter who—”
“Enough. Quiet. Listen to me: No, you’re not. I want you to tell me, in your own words, that it’s not your fault. Can you do that for me?”
Reluctantly, I say the words. “It’s not my fault.”
“Good, and what’s not your fault?” I hate that mom has to do this for her adult daughter. I hate it.
“It’s not my fault that Kim got ousted from the GSA.”
“Thank you. You’re doing great.”
“It doesn’t feel like I’m doing great.”
“You will.” Mom sounds so sure, always. She’s always been sure, even when moving mountains to make sure I’ll get what I want, no matter what it cost her. “So, Kim’s definitely not running for President.”
“Nope. She’s out, and Bobbie’s already so busy zie needs to be reminded to sleep.” I try to get back on track, hoping we can move past the emotional trainwreck. “So like, amazing idea, Alex. Just incredible. Dumbshit.”
“Hani, relax. Alex isn’t here to hear you chew him out. What about you? You did a pretty good job in the GSA when you were active, right?”
What about me? What
about
me?”
“No.” My reply is almost instinctive, like my body rejecting a toxin. “Yeah, I was basically running the thing, until they pushed me out for being aggressive, loud, uncooperative, brash, uncouth, you know? Me
and
Ru, just to really solidify the pattern here.”
Mom gasps as I describe the shit they said. I never did tell her the details of why I left, only that I wasn’t involved in it anymore. “I’m so sorry, beti. I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, I’m not feeling up for going back to fix the racist organization that treated me like shit for saying we should actually, you know, advocate for our community.” I roll my eyes, to nobody’s benefit but my own.
“It’s their loss, honestly. You’re passionate, driven, charismatic, you could be a great candidate for an organization that deserved you.”
I scoff a little at that. “Yeah, until I’d inevitably fuck it all up and drag the whole thing down with me, like I do with everything.”
“You need to stop beating yourself up like this. You’re my daughter, I know what you’re capable of. You’d have them all getting their shit together in no time, because you can do anything!”
“My track record for the last twenty-four hours says otherwise. Like how I handled Alex. Didn’t realize he was expecting one of
us
to run, exploded at him when I caught on. Told him to fuck off, told him to find literally anyone else for his ridiculous idea, and that if he was expecting sympathy for how propping up Quinn’s rise to power made him
feel bad
, he could go fuck himself about it.”
“I’m glad you told him off. He was out of line, and his guilt isn’t doing you any good.”
“I shouldn’t have brought him over in the first place. Just get him in there for long enough to make everyone’s day worse, then blow up in his face. So now there’s no plan for dealing with Quinn, I’ve screamed at our guy inside the org, and we’re going to be twiddling our thumbs while the GSA becomes a stepping stone for Quinn’s fucking political career!”
It’s such a fucking joke. I’d laugh if it wasn’t impacting my entire social circle so personally.
“A political career, huh. That’ll be a challenge with how things are these days.” Mom clicks her tongue in irritation.
“Yeah, xe’ll sit around throwing out platitudes about solidarity and inclusion, building a big tent and reaching across the aisle. All the while shutting down anyone who might tarnish the perfect, squeaky-clean inoffensiveness that looks good on a resumé. Meaning no controversial protests, no serious opposition to the hormone bans, just… empty gestures and parties with rainbows.”
“Good luck trying to be inoffensive with those pronouns, I say. Has xe been paying attention to the news at all?”
“I don’t think xe has. We’re backsliding, and we need to fight back
now
, protest against the policy changes before they take trans care off the uni’s insurance plan, seriously grill the faculty on how they’re falling in line! Not wait around and try to push for some potential reform in the future, but—”
It’s so personal. The politics are so close to my own life, and the hurt from this useless GSA is so close to all the people I care about the most.
“I just feel powerless, mom.” I’m holding my head, trying to avoid becoming a complete sobbing mess. “Everything I do to help just makes things worse. I can’t even keep the people close to me safe. It just blows up in my face every time. Like with Bobbie, earlier. If zie doesn’t hate me, zie
should
.”
“Why would Bobbie hate you, sweetie?”
“Zie had a girl over earlier today, and I got in a fight with her.” Stupid. “I just couldn’t stop myself and had to put Laura on trial right then. Couldn’t just keep my concerns between me and Bobbie, I just had to take down the queen bitch, no matter the cost. Not even for normal reasons like being jealous, just because I thought Bobbie would hurt hirself by getting close to her.”
I can
not
get into why Laura is such a problem. Of all the things I don’t want to burden mom with, RCBG is the one I want her to know about the least.
“If there’s one thing I know about you, Hani, it’s that you did that because you don’t want Bobbie to be hurt. Laura probably had it coming. You always know how to spot an evil bitch.”
“Yeah, I was pretty happy on my high horse
before
I ran off to blow up my longest friendship, then came back dumping problems on everyone, so you know. Really not making a great case for myself today.”
Mom’s quiet for a bit, while I stew in my own fuckups. She’s going to tell me that I tried my best, probably. Like it matters that my best sucks ass.
“You still haven’t talked about Ru, Hani. You realize you’re avoiding the one thing that’s clearly bothering you the most?”
My throat begins closing up.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I won’t. I can’t. I should just skip ahead and dump Kim and Bobbie so they don’t have to deal with me. Rip the bandaid off already. Finish torching all my relationships so nobody has to deal with my shit anymore.
“Take your time, I’ll be up all night working through this feedback anyway. I’ve got all the time in the world.’”
I pull the comforter up, trying to hide from the world, but it’s not like that makes any sense for avoiding a phone call.
“It’s okay, sweetie. Whenever you’re ready.”
Mom’s so patient with me I’m about to fucking cry. I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve anyone.
“We had a huge fight about her engagement, and she–” I choke on my words as my hands start shaking, the air around me heavy and hard to breath. “She left, mom. She got so angry she left me with her new friend, Nichole. Some stupid pretty white girl who doesn’t make fun of her problems.”
“I see.”
I catch my breath and wipe my tears on the pillow before continuing. “And I can’t even blame her. She’s under so much pressure from her stupid fucking family and she’s going to cave to it, abandon me like they want her to, and I’ll even deserve it since I was being a huge asshole to her.”
“You’re looking out for her. Kaalappan has treated you terribly, just like the rest of his family did. You’re right to want better for her than him.”
“Oh yeah, about that. She’s Rashmi now. Isn’t that incredible? After all the shit she did, suddenly flipping from my friend to avoiding me like the plague, pretending I didn’t even exist, just happening to be busy any time Ru and I had plans, she’s been trans all along! She knew Ru and I were hanging out, knew that she could stay in touch without her parents knowing, but instead she salted the earth like mommy and daddy’s perfect, obedient son, and now she’ll wind up just like me in the end
anyway
!”
I’d be more cautious about outing her if it was anybody else than mom. She, of all people, knows this is
confidential
.
“It must have been hard for her.” Mom’s compassionate as always, to the exact wrong person.
“It was hard for me! And she was an asshole about it. She literally came out yesterday and I’m already sick of having to be considerate of how much she must have been struggling! I was struggling the entire time she knew me and for years after, and she was an active participant in making that struggle worse! She was engaged to my best friend and keeping her trapped in a worthless fake straight marriage and wasn’t even straight and that stopped Ru from realizing for ALL these years, that… that…”
It’s so hard to breathe. It’s so hard to keep talking.
“She treated you horribly, and having her own struggles won’t change that. Rashmi chose to hide out of fear, while you were brave enough to say exactly who you were. She was always a spoiled, rude child like that.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but smile a little. “You used to say she was the most quiet and polite kid in her whole family every time she came over.”
“It was a quiet and polite kind of rudeness, trust me.”
“I love you, mom. So, so much.”
“I love you too, beti. Even though you never have time to call.”
“Hah.” I sniffle loudly. “I honestly don’t give a fuck about Rashmi one way or the other, mom. I’m dead to her, she’s dead to me. What I just can’t handle is that even knowing what I’d been through, knowing how Rashmi treated me, when it came down to it, Ru still… She still…”
I was so close to keeping it together. It’s all pouring out of me now. Trickling down my cheeks and making a mess on the pillow.
I want her to reach through the phone and hug me and stroke my hair and tell me it’s going to be okay, but she’s not here. There’s just me, my phone, and her voice competing with my own wails as she tries her best to soothe me.
Ru still what, exactly?
Got annoyed at me? I annoy her all the time, that’s not the problem. We’ve argued before, we’ve had fights, just… Not like this.
Never a fight that hurt me this badly. Never one that’s made it feel like it’s all over, like she’s gone and I can’t get her back. And the big difference, the thing that makes this feel so final, is that this time, when it really mattered…
“She chose Rashmi over me.”
“Oh… Hani. My Hani.”
And Bobbie sided with Laura. And the GSA sided with Quinn. And when it matters, when it really matters, other than my mom there’s nobody who will put me first.
Not even Ru.
Mom seems to think otherwise, though. “Rupali is an incredibly strong girl with an amazing moral compass, sweetie. She won’t abandon you when you need her. Remember how she came over when you were scared to tell me? How she spent all that time shut away in your room with you, walking you through it all? Because you two have a bond that transcends even the one we have, Hani. Because you’re family too.”
I was a mess back then, all raw and vulnerable and fearing rejection, not toughened up by experience yet. Ru was my shield, the one who’d stay with me no matter how bad things would get. Together, even walking straight into Hell would be fine.
“Yeah… I wish I still had that version of her.”
“You still do, Hani. You have to remember how many times Rupali has come through for you. When you told her that you’re a girl, before you told anyone else, did she abandon you?”
I was working up the courage to tell her for months, terrified of the look of disgust she’d give me, and instead, she just… smiled, hugged me, and told me it would be okay.
“You’ve always been my sister.”
I clear my throat. “She didn’t, no.”
“No, she backed you up when it was time to tell
me
. Rupali has always had your back, beti. Give her some time, and it’ll all be okay again before you know it.”
“But what if she’s really gone this time?” It feels so certain, so impossible to avoid.
“
She won’t be
. Rupali is so much better than her entire family combined. Trust me, I’ve always been amazed that Sushma’s daughter could go above and beyond like that.”
Sushma, who wouldn’t even support mom through the divorce. Sushma, who enthusiastically set Ru up with a future husband at five years old.
Yeah. Ru is infinitely better than Sushma.
“Promise me Ru won’t stay mad?”
I’m out of tears at this point. Completely exhausted, emotionally and mentally, ready to fall asleep any moment now.
“I promise, Tahani. She’ll always be your friend.”
Yeah. That’s what hurts most of all.
That’s what she’ll always be.
My
friend
.