Listen to The Idea of Me by Maja Kristina

Meera Bagwat

Stella slumped against a wall and crossed her arms around herself with authority.  "Come here!" she ordered.  "And speak to me."

I obeyed, considering I didn't have an easier choice.  I sunk beside her on the cold floor and leaned against the wall.  

Calmly but mockingly, she said, "Put forward your argument." 

Oh God!  She must be pissed.  "I...Ugh...I..."

"Cut to the chase, Meera!  You were brave enough to lead me on for months.  Why are you faltering with words now?"

"I wasn't leading you on!" I cried.  "I...liked you too."

"Oh!" She clapped her hands together.  "So you're using past tense now?  Liked me?  You don't like me now?"

I looked away from her, humiliated.  Between clenched teeth, I whispered, "That is not what I meant."

"Then tell me what you meant!" she spat, venom lacing every word.  My heart groaned when I looked up at her.  Her eyes glowered at me, face burning madly.  "Tell me why you want to leave?  Are you deaf?"

My heart crumpled and fell into the pit of my stomach.  "You're being rude."

"I know.  I've been told that I'm rude to people I love. Get it?  People I love."

Sighing painfully, I propped my legs and hugged them.  I felt small.  I felt minute.  Inferior in front of her seething body.  "I'm nothing like you, Stella," I mumbled in my tiniest voice.  "I didn't have my life cut out to be successful.  You won't understand why I can't get out of my maze, even though it hurts me."

"Try me," she challenged.   "I won't have this life if not for my parents' money.  And they helped me a lot to build this career.  I didn't become successful in one day, Meera.  Do you know how inferior I felt when I saw Sabastian run around town saving people who need him?  I worked my ass off, yes, but I felt like I was making dresses while he did surgeries."

"You do make people happy with your products..," I said, looking up hopefully.  "You make little girls walk with confidence." 

A faint smile lingered on her red lips.  Then she said, "If you don't tell me why it's hard for you, how will I know?"

We stared at each other for a long, impeccable minute.  The starlight caressed one side of her gentle face as the breeze lifted her soft curls.  

I couldn't stop finding her angelic.  I couldn't help touching her.  My fingers reached to tuck a strand of her curly hair behind her ear.  I quietly whispered into the night.  "Tell me about the time you first kissed a girl?"

Her eyes widened a tiny bit before she cleared her throat.  "Umm...when I was nineteen, I guess.  She was my roommate in fashion school...and it kinda happened.  Why are you asking?"  

Ignoring her question, I hurled another one at her.  "How did your parents react when you came out to them?" 

With a puzzled look, she responded.  "My dad was pretty ecstatic.  My mom, though, didn't talk to me for a few days.  But she googled and learnt stuff about sexuality and finally accepted it.  She later took me to a sexual health seminar."

I scrunched my nose as she stole a glance at me.  

"Why?  What happened when you told your parents?"

I chocked on the air.  "I never told my parents.  But when I was thirteen, I stole a photo of two girls kissing from my classmate.  I would stare at it and smile every day before going to bed.  One day my father..." I scratched the back of my neck nervously before continuing.  Talking about my father chilled my spine.  "Well, my father found that picture one day...and he tore it in front of me...and he spanked me."

Stella gasped in shock.  I chuckled, untucking my dress shirt.  When I lifted the fabric up, a dark scar above my belly button came to view.  With her mouth open, her fingernail traced the long mark.  "I'm sorry," she said, emotions flooding with her words. 

I shrugged, uncaringly.  "It doesn't matter.  In fact, I was relieved when he died.  My father was an asshole." 

"Why would he spank you?" she exclaimed, still in utter shock.  "Is it like an Indian...thing?" 

"Yeah, I guess...Spanking wasn't a bad thing when I was a child.  But I'm an Indian parent.  And I'm not queerphobic.  I'll support my son if he's queer." 

Her hand slowly curled around my shoulder, warming my back.  "I know." 

I sniffed, leaning on her shoulder.  "It felt terrible when both my sister and mom pushed me away because I didn't want a baby.  Things got worse after Nikhil's adoption.  And I couldn't blame anybody but myself.  I felt...alienated.  The hatred almost killed me.  It pushed me towards alcohol.  You don't know what it's like to feel hated, Stella.

"And now if I go to them with a news of separating with Ranjit and being in a lesbian relationship..." Even thinking about the look of my mom's face made me shiver.  

Stella stared at my burning face.  "That is all the wrong reasons to stay with Ranjit.  You have to be with him because you love him, not because you can't make it alone."

I didn't know if she was right.  But taking such a big seemed so wrong.  Like I will ruin everything all over again.  

So I continued speaking.  "Ranjit is so erratic with his decisions.  He can't stop changing his mind about everything.  Before we got married, he was okay with not having a baby.  But later, he demanded that he deserves a child.  At the adoption centre, he wanted Nikhil.  Two weeks after that, he left the poor child out in the rain.  Living with Ranjit felt like I was tied to traintrack and was hearing the screech of the train coming closer and closer, but it never reached me. It feels so good when they joke with each other or cook together.  But I can't stop wondering if he'd change his mind again.  I told you that Ranjit is the only person who backs the family up financially.  He takes care of my mother's medical bills too.  I can't do it alone without him.  I don't want to be the one sparking Ranjit to dislike my son again.  After so many years, I find my son happy with me.  I don't want to ruin everything."  I took a heavy breath before putting forward my last statement.  "I don't want to be hated again."

"Nikhil is a big boy.  He can take care of himself."

"Yes, he can," I snapped.  "You just don't get it.  I don't want him to just have a life.  I want him to be loved.  I want him to be happy."

"Teenagers really don't ask that much, Meera!  Why don't you talk about separating with Ranjit to Nikhil?  What if he's okay with it?"

Anger gnarled at my chest.  "I won't do that.  You don't have to tell me what to do."  My voice came out harsher than I intended.

There was a long pause where she curled her hand around mine.  But when she kept tightening the pressure on my hand-like she didn't want me to leave-, I looked at her.  A thin sheen of tears glistened on her wild eyes.  The break in her voice stopped my heart when she talked.  "So what are you saying?  You see no reason to leave your husband?"

My breath hitched. "Stella..."  I don't want to hurt you.  Please don't cry.  Claws tore my heart.

"Not even me?" she moaned within hiccups.  

I pursed my lips in anguish, turning away from her breaking face.  

One hand flew to cover her mouth and muffled the gut-wrenching tears that tore from her heart.  "You can't do this to me, Mee-Meera!" she sobbed, accusing me with her pointed red eyes.  "You're hurting me."

 "I'm sorry," I whispered through gritted teeth, getting off the cement floor.  But Stella's hand holding my hand tugged, stopping me.  Her nails dug into my wrist, wet face glowering at me in hatred.  As much as I loved her, I knew that she deserved someone better.  Someone who isn't broken.  Someone who'd risk anything for her.

"You're going to regret this," she hissed, hiding her face behind her hair. 

A solemn tear quietly strolled down my face, my face calmer than the tangled mess in my head.  

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