Sublime – II
I laugh inwardly when a senior along with a bunch of his cronies approaches me and makes me do something silly. I comply his bidding with a practiced pained face which also manages to reflect fear in plenty. I could practically smell testosterone when the senior boys bask in my humiliation as I convincingly stutter and stammer at my predicament.
It's laughable, actually.
Their simple and ape like behavior would take me all of forty two seconds to emasculate them completely, rip them off their egos and perhaps have some fun with them by screwing with their minds. But being submissive was even more fun. The thought of being voluntarily submissive in a situation where I could have easily outsmarted the participants and be dominant, gave me an indescribable high and not to mention endless entertainment.
It was all fine until she came along.
A senior, beautiful, kind and she was someone who really looked out for younger kids.
Mal.
I found her looking at me as if I was a lost kitten – scared, helpless and pathetic after being asked to enact a cheesy love scene by seniors. I watched her discreetly – the way she talked, the authoritative stance she took when she spoke to her peers and the way her peers reacted to her presence. It was strangely brought out a carnal heat in my bones.
I wanted her. The want wasn't born out of the desire of the flesh but the desire for her psyche. The authoritarian in her would be unleashed with full force if I were to befriend her given how I was a small kitten that had to be protected from the big bad wolves.
I ensured to be in her line of vision, maintaining my hair the way she did and flawlessly copying her mannerisms. The ease of it all made me nauseous but in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that much of a sacrifice. She came to me one day making a pathetic excuse to include me in her little project. I showed enough enthusiasm sealing our little friendship.
I would be lying if I say that I didn't enjoy her company. She was a nice girl to hang around with, easy to read expressions, wore her emotions on her sleeves and trusted me completely. I could see admiration in my parents' eyes whenever she came home to help me with my homework or tests. The daughter with severe bouts of depression being best friends with the popular girl in the school gave them a sense of relief. Honestly, I felt sorry for them.
They had no idea how dangerous their child really was.
The boy was a lost puppy, a pet to be specific. He got terribly attached to Mal seeing how she saved both of us from the monstrous seniors. It was hilarious to see how he competed with me for Mal's attention. I wonder if he was the reason why I continued being friends with Mal.
He added spice to my boring high school life.
Correction.
I made him add spice to my boring high school life.
"Why do you like her?" I ask him one day in search of an honest answer.
"I love her," he said.
"Why?" I ask him again. He shifts around nervously looking around as if Mal would jump out anytime. "She isn't here," I add in an attempt to calm him down.
"She is….wonderful," he said looking at the ground, ashamed at his inability to accurately articulate his desire. "I love her to the point of madness," his voice is incredibly soft and he looks at his shoes when he says that. I roll my eyes blatantly at his hapless behavior. Pathetic.
"Pursue her then," I tell him watching his expression go from being love struck to totally shocked. I was counting on that reaction. "Don't let her go." I add as an afterthought.
His eyes are bright and his happiness is so blatantly evident on his face that it makes me vomit. I shrug.
"I will always love her," he declares. "Thank you," he says sincerely. I shrug again.
I have never cared much about people come to think of it. It didn't matter if the people in question here included Mal who happens to be my best friend and also my parents. Happiness, sadness, kindness and all that jazz were decorations and words people hung on to, in my opinion. Not that I told this to anyone. Not even my therapist; especially not that person. So why did I help the boy?
In retrospect I believe I took such a decision because in my moment of weakness I believed that he would start liking Mal and knowing Mal she would definitely not like him. Their confrontations would give me enough opportunity to distract me from the voices of the monsters in my head.
My therapist continued to see me every month through my high school years with a practiced detachment while her eyes shot looks of sympathy at my parents. I never told her how I felt death coming to my dog. Realistically it was through my hands but she didn't have to know that now, did she? I always masked my face with an appropriate emotion but had an eerie feeling that she knew what I was thinking. She continued to prod me about my thoughts and what I thought of certain incidents which she called 'scenarios' while I continued to throw away the pills she gave me. I liked being however I was.
In my defense, that chirpy little dog was little too annoying at times.
Book Talk
Aami Daakini
36