The Patient Sikh: Part Twelve--Hey Jealousy
This an excerpt from a novel in progress and a work of fiction. So I'm at a birthday party this girl Preeti is having. We are all standing in her living room when they walk in, together. Sonny and some girl. She's really pretty, like super pretty, too pretty. She's Indian. I'm pissed. She's also thinner than me, which pisses me off even more. She has these really nice flowing curly locks of hair that I want to pull out.Sonny walks into the house with her, and I know right away that they must be together. It's the way he's looking at her, he used to look at me like that. Now they are both laughing. I want to die. I haven't seen Sonny in months and this is how I see him? This cannot be real.This girl is wearing a very short skirt, and she has lovely long legs. I would never wear a skirt that short, I never could wear a skirt that short. I learn that her name is Kiran. She is apparently from Africa, the same place that Sonny is originally from. She has quite a bit of an accent and it works well for her. Bitch.I can't believe it. I hate her for being alive. For existing. Them existing together is not acceptable. Does he love her? Did he ever love me? She's wearing excessively high heels. I've never seen Sonny look happier. Damn him.He's following her around the room with his eyes. He comes up to me and says, "Hi." I say, "Hi," back and we can't seem to get into a conversation. He looks distracted. Distracted by her. Her. She is a menace. A menace to my life. I had a good life until she came around.This girl is sexy. I think I'm not sexy and I want to punch her in the face. Are they going to have sex? What is going on? I need to know."So how's it going?" I ask Sonny and get myself a red plastic cup of Sprite."It's going. How about you?" he replies. And do you love her, I want to ask him. But I don't. I want to ask him, who's the girl? But I don't do that either. I have nothing else to say to him. I can't tell him that his new relationship makes me want to die.He doesn't look much at me. He's looking at her across the room. He's staring actually. I notice her perky breasts. She's hot. I'm not. It's over.I decide I need to talk to her. That's my decision? What a stupid decision.Anyways I go towards where she is standing next to a plate of cookies. "Hi, I'm Yasmine," I say in her direction. "I don't believe we've met." I fake smile. The fakest smile I can make."Oh hi!" she chirps! "I'm Kiran!" she is so excited about her name. About her existence."Nice to meet you," I say in a fake voice again. "How do you know Preeti?" I ask. I don't care. Just get out of this house."Oh, I don't really know her. I came with Sonny," she beams. Did you really now? "I just moved here from Kenya," she says in a very pretty accent. Screw her.How did you meet Sonny, I want to ask. Why are you with my man, I want to ask."So how did you and Sonny meet?" I ask in a sort of whisper. I don't want anyone to hear me grilling her."Our parents know each other from back home," she says in the most delightful way. I want to punch her even more. I notice other boys in the room are looking at her, practically staring.Sonny walks up to us. Kiran and him give each other a knowing look. I feel like I disappeared from the room. "So you guys have met?" Sonny asks.Kiran and I smile. Her smile is faker than mine. "I love that top," I say to her and stare at her snake print sweater that looks outrageously hideous."Thanks," she says in a high pitched voice.She has to know I'm lying. That I hate her top and her and I can't stand my life. "Excuse me," I say and run to the bathroom.I look in the mirror. There it is. All of me. Standing before me. Looking like I look. I'm wearing a red sweater with black pants. I never wear short skirts because I don't like my knees. I look at the eyeliner slightly smudged under my eyes as I cry a little. I try to fix it with a tissue.This is me, I think. Me. All of me. This is all I got to offer Sonny and he doesn't want it. He wants her.Kiran, with her exotic accent and long legs, her perky breasts, and her perfectly curly hair. I have nothing to give him. I am nothing. I think about reapplying my red lipstick but I decide there is no point in trying to look pretty anymore. I want to throw up.I finally get myself together enough to exit the bathroom. I see Sonny and Kiran talking, flirting, laughing in the corner of the kitchen. There is nothing I can do to change this, I think. Nothing I can do to stop this. This reality.I looked straight at them. I saw it. The truth.The truth is life can be heartbreaking. The truth is that people will hurt you.The truth is I can't handle the truth.ninaIf you would like to read the beginning of this novel in progress, The Patient Sikh, visit the following links in chronological order:The Patient Sikh: Part OneThe Patient Sikh: Part Two–The Wonder YearsThe Patient Sikh: Part Three–SonnyThe Patient Sikh: Part Four–Song LyricsThe Patient Sikh: Part Five–Your SongThe Patient Sikh: Part Six–Coffee Talk
The Patient Sikh: Part Eight--Kiss And TellThe Patient Sikh: Part Nine--Street ChessThe Patient Sikh: Part Ten--RaviThe Patient Sikh: Part Eleven--Understanding