Tati<\/p>\n
A story starts like this and ends like that. But sometimes we can only guess when a story really starts and wonder if it ever really ends.<\/p>\n
My story starts when Priya and I spit into our matching tiny plastic vials. We spit until they\u2019re full\u2014mine, slightly yellow-tinged; Priya\u2019s, clear and frothy.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou so have a sinus infection,\u201d she says. \u201cThat\u2019s gross.\u201d<\/p>\n
It does make me wonder. I forgot to brush my teeth that morning, and I\u2019m too embarrassed to admit it. I wonder if Priya is turned off by me now, repulsed enough to not want to kiss me later tonight. I blush.<\/p>\n
\u201cShut up,\u201d I cap my vial and slide it into the pre-coded envelope. \u201cPeople have different-colored saliva just like they have different shades of whiteness to their teeth.\u201d<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t know whether that\u2019s true, but Priya usually believes me when it comes to science. Or math. Or anything related to school and academics, actually. We\u2019re both academic achievers, as our teachers like to say. Perhaps unhealthily so, but we\u2019re competitive and eager to excel so we\u2019re not about to change. We also have to put up with the nicknames at school: Smart and Smarter (although it\u2019s unclear who\u2019s Smart and who\u2019s Smarter), the A-Team, and the Einstein Twins, to name a few. We don\u2019t mind; in fact, we welcome it. When it comes to the other stuff, like how to act around people; what not to say so I won\u2019t come off as the biggest nerd on earth; an approximation of what to wear; what music to listen to; and generally, how to transform myself into a person who can successfully disappear in school by blending in\u2014well, then I rely on Priya. My parents are old hippies, so I can\u2019t count on them for suggestions on how to fit in. They normally only suggest things that make my situation worse, although that unconditional love thing is a decent enough trade-off.<\/p>\n
\u201cAww . . . you\u2019re so cute when you blush.\u201d Priya comes up behind me and wraps her arms around my waist, one narrow brown hand still clasping her sealed vial. I feel the warmth of her cheek pressed against my shoulder. Her soft breasts pushing against my back. The touch of her hand on my belly stirring sleeping butterflies.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not cute,\u201d I blurt out in typically clumsy, self-effacing manner. It isn\u2019t charming, and I know that, but can\u2019t help myself and don\u2019t feel I have to when I\u2019m with Priya. She circles around to face me.<\/p>\n
\u201cMiss Tatiana Woodland, you\u2019re as cute as . . .\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAs?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAs Hercules.\u201d<\/p>\n
I scrunch my face in barely disguised disgust. \u201cHercules is a Pekinese.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut not just any Pekinese. Hercules is my Pekinese.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, since you put it that way.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay, here\u2019s your spit.\u201d She pushes the vial into my hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, actually that\u2019s your spit. Mine\u2019s already in the envelope ready to go.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy spit, okay, but your idea. Remind me again why we\u2019re wasting your parents\u2019 money and our precious bodily fluids.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRemind me why we need to get an A in Ethnic Studies in a project that was originally your idea.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWas it? A dumb idea in retrospect.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh. Oh. Did I just hear an admission of weakness from Priya Gupta? Anyway, it\u2019s too late. Like you said, wasting my parents\u2019 money and all.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m just messing with you. It\u2019s going to be a cool project. Although I\u2019m pretty sure I already know what my results will be\u2014100% Indian subcontinent. Zero percent everything else, although it would be fun to have a surprise. But you already know your birth parents were Ukrainian.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRussian.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSame difference.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t tell them that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay, the next time I never meet them I won\u2019t. And don\u2019t tell them I said so when you never meet them.\u201d<\/p>\n
I give her the glare\u2014my goofy glare, she calls it.<\/p>\n
\u201cAll right, let\u2019s go mail these. The sooner we get rid of them, the sooner I can erase the image of your gross yellow spit from my mind.\u201d<\/p>\n
I flush warm again and she sees it. \u201cKidding!\u201d She stands on tippy-toes to offer a soft, plushy kiss, something I rarely receive from her in her own home. Even with Priya\u2019s dad at work and her mom picking up her little brother, Nikky, from school, it\u2019s a huge deal\u2014forbidden, and therefore all the more delicious. I slide my hands up her sides until they rest on her shoulders, and gently pull her closer to me.<\/p>\n
The kiss ends and Priya\u2019s wet tongue darts across my face in one bold sweep. \u201cThere\u2019s a little more spit for good measure.\u201d She giggles.<\/p>\n
When she lowers her heels to the ground, taking her kiss with her, I can still feel its ghost on my lips. I wipe the wetness away in an exaggerated motion of disgust with the back of my hand. Hercules watches us intently from the open doorway to her bedroom, his front paws splayed outward, his turquoise collar studded with rhinestones. Does Hercules know he\u2019s witnessing something rare in this household? A moment of pure, unguarded bliss. He slow-wags and then pads away down the hall toward the den where he spends most of his day lounging on a pillow by the fireplace.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow come . . .\u201d My eyes slide to my feet and my shoulders slump as the rest of the sentence catches in my throat.<\/p>\n
\u201cTati, c\u2019mon.\u201d Priya draws out the second word and her voice takes on that distant quality, the tone she uses when she\u2019s leading a group discussion or solving an equation on the board in front of the class. Her serious, problem-solving voice. Her absolutely-uninterested-in-indulging-the-petty-emotions-of-silly-children-like-me voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cC\u2019mon, what? You don\u2019t even know what I was going to say.\u201d<\/p>\n
The spark of fun that lit her eyes just seconds ago has extinguished. \u201cI know exactly what you were going to say,\u201d she says dolefully. \u201cSometimes I think I know you better than you know yourself. And you already know the answer, so why keep belaboring the point?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you even love me?\u201d I ask in full self-pity mode. It\u2019s a train wreck I can\u2019t stop.<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course I love you.\u201d She steps forward to press against me again and tilts her face toward mine. I can feel her warm breath against my throat, and the tiny hairs on my body stand up. \u201cWho loves you more?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy parents.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay, maybe equal, but who loves you more?\u201d She raises her hand to cradle the side of my face so gently that my fingertips actually tingle. Her eyes grow round with concern. The humorless schoolteacher voice is gone just as suddenly as it arrived. My Priya is back. \u201cI love you, Tati. My parents are conservative, you know that. They wouldn\u2019t understand . . . us.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s getting harder and harder for me to understand us,\u201d I say stubbornly, apparently on a mission to sabotage our relationship. Sleepovers at my house are where happiness takes place\u2014hugging, nuzzling, kissing. Sleepovers at Priya\u2019s are relegated to the friend zone\u2014simple schoolgirl stuff like homework, binge-watching our favorite Netflix shows, and stuffing popcorn in our mouths. \u201cWhen you sleep at my house everything\u2019s real. When I stay at your house . . . I don\u2019t even know what we are. I\u2019m sorry but it\u2019s not right. What are we? Are we a couple? Are we really even in love?\u201d<\/p>\n
Priya\u2019s face darkens again, and she pulls away from me. Her eyes latch on to mine. \u201cYou\u2019re sorry? You\u2019re the one with the cool parents who let you do anything you want. Maybe a little sympathy for me? You think I like living all confined like this? And, by the way, how many kids do you know whose parents would be cool with them sleeping with their lover? In their own bed? Under their parents\u2019 roof? Your parents are a little weird, Tati. Admit it.\u201d<\/p>\n
I know she\u2019s mad. I\u2019ve pushed too hard, but I couldn\u2019t help myself. It doesn\u2019t take a whole lot to trigger feelings of insecurity in me despite the best efforts of loving and supportive parents. The doubting voice that speaks to my darkest fears late at night tells me Priya does like living within the confines of her parents\u2019 narrow-minded social beliefs. It\u2019s her excuse for keeping us a secret at school, among our friends. Priya wants it both ways\u2014all hers when she wants me, free as a bird when she doesn\u2019t. But then my rational-self fights back\u2014Priya loves me like no other. She\u2019s my soulmate. Who am I to accuse her of duplicity when she\u2019s suffering more than me? Do I really want to risk losing her over another confrontation? One day she\u2019ll have enough, and will I be prepared to go on without Priya in my life? I don\u2019t think so.<\/p>\n
Hercules is back in the doorway, peering into Priya\u2019s room, most likely alarmed by the uncharacteristically loud and unhappy voices disturbing his tranquility. His ears are perked, and he angles his head for a better listen. His collar is silver, glistening. A small bell jangles under his chin. My knees suddenly feel loose, as if they might buckle if I shift my weight even one centimeter in either direction. A thrum starts low and grows louder, like a tuning fork hit against the side of my head.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow did Hercules change his own collar?\u201d I ask before sit-crashing to the ground. I pull my legs up and bury my face between my knees, drawing in great heaving gulps of air.<\/p>\n
\u201cTati.\u201d Priya kneels and brings her lips close to my ear. \u201cYou okay?\u201d she whispers.<\/p>\n
\u201cHercules\u2019s collar was blue.\u201d Tears stream down my face. \u201cJust ten minutes ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, it\u2019s silver,\u201d she says. \u201cIt\u2019s always been silver. Tati, is it happening again? Are you having a seizure? Have you been taking your meds?\u201d<\/p>\n
So many questions.<\/p>\n
Priya unfastens the top button of my shirt, sits down, and pulls my head into her lap. She strokes my hair and coos to me, but what she\u2019s saying, I can no longer hear. The tunnel appears where it\u2019s always been before\u2014just above me, gleaming with such intensity, a light so bright it seems white. Beckoning.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Tati A story starts like this and ends like that. But sometimes we can only guess when a story really starts and wonder if it ever really ends. My story starts when Priya and I spit into our matching tiny plastic vials. We spit until they\u2019re full\u2014mine, slightly yellow-tinged; Priya\u2019s, clear and frothy. \u201cYou so…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"link","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kathrynberlabooks.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/743"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kathrynberlabooks.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kathrynberlabooks.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kathrynberlabooks.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kathrynberlabooks.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=743"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/www.kathrynberlabooks.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/743\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":750,"href":"https:\/\/www.kathrynberlabooks.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/743\/revisions\/750"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kathrynberlabooks.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=743"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kathrynberlabooks.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=743"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kathrynberlabooks.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=743"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}