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Authors: Vanessa McKnight

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BOOK: Fatshionista
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Once I got it
together, they led me into the parking deck and we all piled into the old
Toyota Innova and headed home.

 

In all the years
I had lived in New York and all the years I had grown up in the South, I had
never felt at home until I came to Delhi. Just sitting in the traffic and
listening to everyone in the car try to talk to me at the same time lightened
my spirit and took my mind off my own troubles for just a bit.

 

I spent the day trying
to sleep, but I couldn’t. I went to the market with my cousins and brought some
things back to make buttered chicken. I spent the afternoon in the kitchen with
my Aunty Amandeep and over chopping, kneading, and cooking I told her the whole
sordid tale.

 

She listened and
nodded. I knew it would be a day or two before she offered any advice. She was
always very thoughtful and had to spend time praying and thinking over a
problem before she offered her guidance. The American in me always struggled
with that; I wanted help now, I wanted answers now. But the Indian that was
inside of me (Aunty had long ago told me that in my past lives I had been
Indian) had learned to be patient. And I had learned that after all that
contemplation, her advice would fix whatever was ailing me.

 

But until then, I
had to live with my thoughts and the lump in the pit of my stomach. I had come
up to the roof after dinner to be alone. I knew in a city this large and in a
house with this many people, I was never really alone, but I didn’t want my bad
mood affecting anyone else. I hadn’t come here to depress everyone in my
adopted family, so I hauled my misery upstairs and was sharing it with the
monkeys and the pigeons.

 

I waited until
the last ray of sunshine had drifted over the rooftops and stretched my legs
out in front of me. Maybe I should tell my family here to line up all the
eligible bachelors who wanted to live in America, pick one, and go home. At
this point, having been so close to feeling like there would finally be someone
in my life only to screw it up, I just wanted someone to come home to.

 

Someone who made
me laugh. Someone who smiled with his eyes and a crooked grin. Someone who
teased me when I spilled things all over myself. Someone who shared my passion
for art and creativity.

 

Daniel. Yeah,
pretty much I wanted Daniel. Halfway around the world and out of the daily
grind of work, I could look back and realize that I told a secret I didn’t have
the right to tell. At the very least I could have called him or waited around
to talk to him about it. In the moment, all I saw was his success and the need
to get in front of the lie he had put out there before it bit him in the ass.

 

And now I had
ruined any chance I had of ever doing the same. Well, I probably wouldn’t have
bitten it…

 

I heard footsteps
coming up the ladder and figured that my moments of peace were coming to an
end. I knew when I came up here it wouldn’t be too long before the little
cousins realized where I had run off to and would come looking for me. I was
the only person they knew from America, and they had a million questions for
me.

 

“All right, you
found me, and I am all yours,” I said in Hindi.

 

And in perfect
Hindi I heard the reply, “You ought to be since I traveled eight thousand miles
just to find you.”

 

My back stiffened
at the sound of his voice. What did this mean? Surely he didn’t fly all this
way to yell at me and tell me I had ruined his life. I couldn’t turn around. I
just stared straight ahead at nothing, trying to figure out how to handle
this—how to handle everything I ever wanted standing ten feet behind me.

 

“Aren’t you going
to turn around?” he asked.

 

I knew he was
standing right behind me, and the Southern girl in me felt like I was being
incredibly rude, but honestly, I had no idea what to say to him. And I knew if
he saw my face he would see everything on it that I had spent weeks hiding: the
desire, the lust, and the love.

 

“No, I don’t
think I am,” I croaked out. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him sit down to
the right of me. He was close enough that I could feel the heat of his body,
and I tried to subtly soak in the intoxicating scent that was his alone.

 

We must have sat
there for five minutes, both of us just staring out ahead at the darkened
rooftops and the lights coming on in the buildings all around us.

 

A thousand words
were on the tip of my tongue ranging from “I’m sorry” to “I love you” to “What
the hell are you doing here?” But nothing would come out. I didn’t know if he
was waiting for me to say something first, since he had made the grand gesture
of chasing me around the world.

 

We both turned to
look at each other at the same time. He looked tired, probably as tired as I
felt. If he had gotten here this quickly, he must have left New York not too
long after me. Part of me hoped he was here just for me, but part of me also
knew that maybe he had also come home; maybe he couldn’t handle being in New
York. I had steered clear of the papers and the internet so I wouldn’t be
tempted to see what they had written about the show or the revealing blog post.

Neither of us had said a word; we were just taking in one another. He tucked a
wayward lock of hair behind my ear, the feel of his hand causing me to shiver.

 

“Are you cold?”
he asked as he smiled at me. This was a good sign, wasn’t it? No throwing
anything, no yelling.

 

“No,” I answered
honestly. I actually had become quite warm since he sat down next to me. It was
his presence making me nervous and seriously turned on, all at the same time.

 

All right,
Millie.
This was like pulling a Band-Aid off. Just say it all at once, see
how it lands on him, and then go back downstairs. Nothing will be resolved by
just sitting here and wishing that somehow this would all work out.

 

I took a deep
breath and got it all out in one giant run-on sentence. “Daniel, I’m sorry I
didn’t come to you first about the story. I hope you know I would never do
anything to hurt you. I thought I knew what was best and de-outed you without
your permission. I couldn’t face the anger and disappointment I saw on your
face at the runway show, so I ran. I
do
care about you, and I wish I had
done this differently, but I didn’t. I hope you can forgive me…and also, I
think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

 

I inhaled deeply
and mentally patted myself on the back. Other than almost passing out
midsentence, I thought I delivered a fairly succinct and emotional apology.

 

The silence that
followed my apologetic outburst, however, made me doubt my confidence in the
delivery. Surely he understood I would never do anything to hurt him. We had
spent the last few weeks learning so much about each other and sharing so many
laughs. I could only hope it meant as much to him as it did to me.

 

If I couldn’t
have his love, at least there was a chance that I might have his forgiveness.

 

He continued to
stare at me, his expression unchanged from the moment I had begun my outburst.
I was aching to fill the silence with more apologies and proclamations of my
love, but I bit my tongue and waited. He had to have something to say. No one
flew eight thousand miles to sit silently in front of the person they had come
to confront.

 

After a steady
five minutes of unbroken eye contact and dead silence, I sighed heavily and
started to stand up. I couldn’t bear to continue sitting here, waiting to find
out if I was forgiven or hated. I was halfway to my feet when he reached out
and pulled me into his lap. My first instinct was to make sure he was okay; I
was no lightweight, and I had no grace and had basically just smothered him to
death.

 

Before I could
open my mouth, his was on mine. I closed my eyes and sighed with relief as his
tongue swept inside my mouth, seeking my own. Relief quickly changed to desire
as the kiss deepened, and I felt his grip on the back of my head tighten. It
was as if we were both trying to crawl inside the other one.

 

While my mind
still wanted a response to my apology/declaration of love, my body was
perfectly content with the recent course of events. His hands roamed from my
hair down to my back and up again. I shifted on his lap and straddled him,
bringing the hard weight of him tight against the aching part of me.

 

He groaned into
my mouth, and the sound of his desire pushed me even further over the edge. I
grasped his hair in both hands, holding on to him in case this was yet another
ridiculous fantasy and I was going to wake up in my cot downstairs hot,
bothered, and alone.

 

His hand worked
its way under my kurta top to stroke the skin under my breasts. I was so deeply
engrossed in the passion between the two of us that I didn’t hear the laughter
of children until it was right next to my ear.

 

I reluctantly
pulled my mouth from his and turned to see the deep-brown eyes of my youngest
cousin staring at us. She was all of six years old and was the ringleader, even
though she was the youngest.

 

Daniel took one
look at the group of children circling us and buried his face into my neck. I
guess this was his way of saying I could handle the situation.

 

“Aunty-ji said to
remind you that a rooftop was no place to ravage a young man. She has already
gotten two calls from the neighbors across the street. She sent us up here to
tell you to get inside if you’re going to attack the nice Indian boy.”

 

Peals of laughter
from the other children followed her careful speech. My face flamed red, and
now I was the one trying to hide myself. Dear Lord, what must the neighbors
think? I knew most of them, and hopefully this little public display of
affection wouldn’t reflect poorly on my Indian family.

 

I made a move to
get up, but Daniel held me firmly on his lap.

 

“Even in these
baggy pants, my dear, if you move an inch, I’ll embarrass myself in front of
these young children,” he emphasized his particular problem by pressing my hips
back down on his sizable erection.

 

I looked him in
the eye and gave him a little wiggle, causing him to groan, smile, and laugh
simultaneously. I was ecstatic to be laughing and making out with this man when
only hours ago I thought I might never see him again.

 

The poking on my
shoulder reminded me that we had yet to deal with our young audience and the
demands from my aunt.

 

“Mehak, go down
and tell Aunty that we’ll be right there. And please tell her to let the
neighbors know that I’m very sorry and we will not let this happen again.”

 

“She said you
have to come down with us or I don’t get any sweets tonight.”

 

I ruffled her
hair and pulled her close to whisper into her ear, “I have a suitcase full of
chocolate and it’s all yours if you take everyone back downstairs and tell
Aunty-ji we will be down in a minute. But you have to go right now, before I
count to five.”

 

I hadn’t even
made it to two and she had single-handedly herded all the kids back down the
ladder.

 

So now I was left
straddling the love of my life, trying desperately not to make his delicate
situation any worse. I still didn’t know what to say, so I just held his head
in my hands and smiled at him.

 

“Darling, I know
I’m the most exquisite specimen of manhood you’ve ever had the pleasure to
straddle, but I won’t be able to walk, let alone make it down that ladder with
this erection. So as much as it pains me to ask this, please get off my lap.”

 

His gave me a
smack on my ass and a kiss on my mouth before planting me two feet away,
setting me down in front of him. I couldn’t help but stare at the now-revealed
tent in his baggy pants. Oh, I was so close to getting a hold of that beautiful
thing.

 

“And your staring
isn’t helping either,” he laughed as he followed my gaze down to his tented
trousers.

 

“Sorry.” I
blushed as I looked up at him.

 

He cupped my face
with one hand and smiled at me. “Millie, I got on the plane with the sole
purpose of coming here and yelling at you for ruining my life. I was so angry
when I figured out who had written the story. Angry that you never asked me,
angry that you didn’t give me a chance to explain, angry that on the biggest
day of my life I had been branded a liar.”

 

I started to
drown him a sea of apologies, but he placed a finger over my mouth. “But
thankfully India is a fifteen-hour plane ride from New York, and it gave me
plenty of time to think. It had been wrong to lie about who I was. I had
started in this business to make it on my own merits; that is why I never took
any money from my father, why I told people I had grown up poor. It was easier
to be that guy than to be the failed son who let down his family and went to
work making pretty dresses.”

 

There were so
many things I wanted to say, but he kept his finger over my mouth, and I
figured the least I could do was hear him out, since I hadn’t given him the opportunity
to explain before I printed my story.

 

“But then it
became really complicated when I met you. I hadn’t laughed with a woman in so
long. I had avoided them, used them for physical gratification, and with my
work, begun to just see them as objects. I was so focused on proving myself and
on my career that I had no interest in finding a partner to share my life with.
And then suddenly one day you were there, not just in front of me every day as
we worked on the show, but also in my head, in my thoughts, and in my dreams.”

BOOK: Fatshionista
7.95Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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