Chapter 20
That Rainbow Shirt at Target Is Definitely Turning Your Kids Gay—and You Didn’t Hear It from Me
Prabalmachi, Sunday
Why am I not as surprised as I should be?
“It’s obvious why you thought Rudra and I were unrequitedly in love with each other or something,” Priti says, “but aside
from the fact that Rudra isn’t my type because of his broodiness, I’m not straight.”
I’m such an idiot. All the hints have been staring me right in the face, but clearly, my gaydar has been way off. How could I have
not seen it?
When I don’t respond, Priti shrugs.
“I haven’t come out to anyone in the family yet. Digha and Rudra, yes, but they’re both technically friends. And now you.”
Her eyes flash, the sudden frisson of anxiety in them as familiar to me as a second skin. It mirrors the feeling I had when
I came out to Rudra. “So please, don’t tell anyone, okay?”
I finally find my voice. “Oh no! No, god, no. I would never out you. Not just because that would make me the shittiest person ever, but because I get it. I’m bi, and the only people who know in our family are Srishti and my parents. And, well, now Rudra. We came out to each
other last night.”
Priti’s features soften at that. “Damn.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
It just hits me that we’ve come out to each other.
And just like that, the ice is broken.
I crack a laugh. “You know what’s funny? When I came back to India the year after we moved, I was so jealous of Rudra. You
and I hadn’t talked in months, and I was hoping we’d be fine when we met face-to-face and that you’d be the same. But when
we got to Nani’s house, I found you sitting there, with Rudra. You didn’t get up and rush to greet me, the way you used to, even though back then we used to see each other nearly every
day. I went up to you—I was so excited to see you—and the first thing you said to me was that Rudra was your best friend now.”
Priti stares at me, speechless.
“You’re so angry at the idea that, what, I’ll take Rudra away from you? Is that it?” I scoff, like that could ever happen.
“What about the fact that you replaced me with him? You guys have managed to stick by one another all these years; meanwhile,
I’m over here resentful that we didn’t last one year apart!”
Not to mention that she applied to American colleges and didn’t tell me about it. She applied with Rudra, to be closer to
him, not me. I suppose it is selfish to think that way, because I’m sure Priti had a hundred other reasons why she was applying,
and I’m sure being close to Rudra was only one of them.
It bruises my heart, regardless.
I consider bringing it up now, not as a one-up to her as I initially thought, but as an attempt to lay it all out, but this is the first time Priti’s hearing me out. She might not take my knowing about her secret well, and the last thing I want to do is ruin the moment.
If things are better with us after tonight, she might one day tell me about it herself.
“Sometimes I wish we could just turn back time and go back to how we used to be,” I find myself saying. I have Srishti now,
but Priti used to be my best friend once. The kind of best friend you could talk about your queerness with. “I wish I hadn’t moved at
all, because at least then I wouldn’t have lost you.”
Priti sucks in a breath, weighing my words. This is the first time in years that I’ve confessed to her how much she meant
to me, how I would’ve undone my move in a heartbeat if it meant she would’ve still been my Priti.
“It’s not your fault, I know,” I continue. “It was unreasonable of me to think you wouldn’t move on and make new friends after
I left. I changed too, but I didn’t think that would mean you wouldn’t accept me back.”
Priti’s quiet for a long time, shaken up, marinating in what I’ve said. When she finally speaks, all she says is this: “But
you had so many new friends.”
“Are you saying that because of the pictures Mummy sent to Mausi?”
Priti doesn’t respond directly to that, but what she says confirms it. “You were surrounded by people. You were so popular.”
“They were pictures of me with my after-school club. Doesn’t mean any of them were my friends.
I had no friends for the longest time. I ate alone at lunch.
No one would talk to me. Even the other Indian Americans at school—I was too Indian for them to stomach.
And here, I was too firangi for you. I wasn’t welcome anywhere, incapable of being liked by and befriending other people. ”
Priti shuts her eyes, grimacing. “And I thought—I thought you didn’t care about me anymore because you’d made American friends
who had cool accents and wore outside clothes to school, whose parents would probably be okay with them being queer . . .”
“Is that why you stopped calling me?”
“I didn’t want to bother you.” When Priti’s eyes open, they’re glistening with tears. “I thought you had no time for me anymore.
And when you didn’t call me either, I started believing it.”
We stare at each other, and I feel like I’ve been gutted open, the roots of our emotions and separation spilling out all at
once. I can’t believe the real reason we strayed apart was because of a misunderstanding. And lack of communication.
I want to say so much. I want to tell her how we could’ve had the best friendship, and more, if she hadn’t distanced herself from me. How she’s the reason we missed out on the most amazing relationship. How every
summer wouldn’t have been ruined if not for her.
But that would be wrong. Because it wasn’t just her fault. Sure, she started it, but I shouldn’t have let her drift away from
me that first time. I shouldn’t have made myself resent her for her comments. I shouldn’t have bitched about her to Srishti
or any of the other cousins behind her back.
I should’ve heard her out, resolved things while I could’ve. She’d been the one to start the fire, but I’d been fanning the
flames as well. Relationships are always two-sided. They can’t be built on one-sided effort. It must be equal, collective,
and worked on, constantly.
The reason why Priti and I drifted apart wasn’t just because of her. It was because of both of us.
But now’s not the time for regrets. We did end up talking about it, albeit eight years late and admittedly not under the best circumstances.
“That doesn’t change what I think,” Priti says, but her voice isn’t harsh. She looks almost as relieved as I feel at the weight
of secrets being lifted off our shoulders. “And it’s not because of jealousy. Rudra’s my best friend, and I care about him.
A lot.”
“I know.”
“He’s got a big heart, and he’s not the sort of person to hook up or mess around. That’s not him.” Priti’s voice breaks. “I
know him.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I know you do.”
“So . . . ?” She looks at me expectantly.
I see it then. I see how badly she wants me to say I’ll back out, that I’ll stop trying to hope for something with Rudra.
If I’m being honest with myself, I know exactly what she means. I get why she’s being protective of Rudra.
At the start of this road trip, I had one goal in mind: to have my first kiss. The perfect person for that would’ve been Amrit,
but maybe I’ve been building this all up to what I think it should be like rather than letting it play out organically.
And now, with all this tension bubbling up between Rudra and me, maybe I’ve been doing the same thing to him, if only subconsciously.
I don’t know if he likes me in any serious way, or what any of this could become, but I can’t keep stringing guys along to
satisfy my definition of fun. I can’t make this a pattern I inadvertently keep falling into.
Because if I do, I won’t just rope another genuinely good guy into my whole mess—I’ll also ruin things further with Priti.
“I understand,” I say. And I do. I really do. I understand exactly why the possibility of Rudra and me would be wrong.
But then what’s driving me? What’s going to keep me on this trip? What’s going to help me see this through?
Rudra’s voice echoes in my head.
I’ve been thinking about what you said. About how it’s been a while since Priti genuinely looked happy.
My mind goes back to my discovery of finding Priti following both the groom and the bride. It didn’t strike me as anything out of the ordinary, but it’s just one of the hundred in-my-face clues that’s
been dangling in front of me, just out of reach. Like how Rudra never said Soumyaroop’s name or “the groom” but still went
along with the plan. It was always “Priti’s ex.” Because Rudra must have known all along that Priti couldn’t have been in
love with the groom.
The discovery is just as wild as before: Priti is after the bride!
And just when I thought the plot couldn’t thicken more than this. This is straight out of a Karan Johar movie, with the fruit-o-meter
turned up.
This is what will drive me to see this through: getting Priti back together with the bride, Mansi. My summer fling might’ve abruptly
flamed out, but Priti is still the main character here. Her story hasn’t ended.
I don’t want her to spiral back to her old self and resent me if I snatch away her chances at love by abandoning this trip.
Things with Rudra and Amrit might be doomed, but Priti’s my cousin. She used to be my best friend, my everything.
I want that back. And it doesn’t matter if I just want to go back home and forget any of this ever happened. Because I need
to make sure Priti at least has a chance at being happy again. If getting her back together with Mansi is the answer, then
that’s what I need to do.
And that has to start with me setting aside what I want.
But I can’t tell Priti that I know about Mansi.
I can’t predict how she’ll react. She might chicken out, and our plan to help her will be ruined before it has the chance to come to fruition.
I can’t have her worrying over Rudra and me either, so I have to make her believe I’m still in this for Amrit, though that’s way off from the actual truth.
The truth that I’m not going to admit to even myself anymore . . . because it doesn’t matter.
“I’m going to the wedding,” I say, obstinately tightening my shoulders. “I’ll meet Amrit and resolve things with him. Nothing
happened between Rudra and me, and I intend to keep it that way. I promise you that. And once that’s done, we’ll leave.”
Priti nods. Her shoulders slump with visible relief, and I comprehend just now how much this trip truly means to her. I was
always supposed to be the beacon guiding her on, but she’s the one making the journey.
I might’ve lied to her about why I’m going to the wedding, but it’s still true that things with Rudra or Amrit were never
meant to be. And that’s okay, because I’m not risking ruining my second chance with Priti.
I won’t regret it. I won’t let myself regret a single moment. Not if it’s Priti.
She’s indescribably brave for going after and professing her love even though she knows there’s a good chance she might return
with her heart broken further, and it might never mend. But she’s still willing to take that chance. I admire her for it.
If she can be this stubborn, driven, and resolute for love, then I can do the same for her.
Tomorrow, the chapter closes on both Amrit and Rudra.
And a new chapter begins with Priti, who is all that matters.