The Henna Wars by Adiba Jaigirdar

Author:Adiba Jaigirdar [Jaigirdar, Adiba]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Page Street Publishing
Published: 2020-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

17

ON THE BUS HOME, I CAN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT THAT almost-kiss. It’s the late bus, which is always filled with people who are a bit too drunk and always smells faintly of cheap beer and piss. Tonight is no exception, but I barely notice as I take my seat.

I can’t stop replaying the party in my head: The feel of Flávia’s hands on my skin. The way she leaned forward. I’m pretty sure I’ve been smiling ear to ear from the moment I left the party.

I slip my phone out of my pocket and open up the text chain between me and Priti. There are a thousand things going through my head, everything rushing together to form a big mush of emotions.

I type, she almost kissed me!!!!!!!!!!! But once it’s on the phone screen, it feels odd. Like I’m revealing something too intimate. Like I want to keep this just to myself for a little while longer. So I erase the text, put my phone back in my pocket, and stare out the window with a grin pasted on my face. I can see my reflection in the dark tint of the glass, far clearer than the blurry city zooming past. My smile looks kind of manic, but I don’t care. I couldn’t wipe it off of my face if I tried.

Ammu opens the door with a frown before I can grab the keys from my handbag.

“Where have you been? It’s almost one o’clock, I’ve been calling you.”

“Oh … I was … at the party. Remember?” I’m sure I told Ammu about the party, even if it was a mumbled throwaway comment because we can barely be in the same room with each other anymore.

“Yes, but you shouldn’t have taken the bus to come home. Why didn’t you call us?”

I shrug, because we both know why I didn’t call. I think she’ll reprimand me some more, that she’ll punish me somehow for coming home on the late bus which, according to her, is “dangerous.” But she just sighs and shuts the door behind me.

“Where’s Priti?”

“She’s already asleep,” Ammu says. “It’s really late.”

“I know … am I not allowed to celebrate my results?”

Surprisingly, she smiles. Ammu and Abbu haven’t been angry about the results. Maybe they had low expectations, like me being a lesbian means my results matter less, or negates the Asian expectation of getting straight A’s. Or maybe they just had low expectations of me from the start.

I don’t know whether I should be grateful or annoyed that they haven’t given me a hard time about the results. But they seem kind of … satisfied. Which my parents rarely are.

“You are allowed to celebrate, shona.” The endearment surprises me. Sends a jolt through me. “I’m … proud of you. You did well.”

I blink at Ammu like she’s sprouted several tentacles. Honestly, it would be less surprising if she had sprouted several tentacles.

“You’re …”

“You’re focusing on your studies. You did well. Just … that’s what you need to keep doing.” She smiles at me, but I read between the lines.

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