The Patient Sikh: Part Twenty--Coney Island

This an excerpt from a novel in progress and a work of fiction.

Sonny has not called me, I haven’t heard from him since the night we kissed. I think I might die. No seriously. I love him, I hate him. I don’t know what to do with him. I want to hit him and I also want to kiss him, all at the same time.

My brother Ravi was right unless you want to kill him and yourself, it’s not true love. But is this true love? What if he’s the one and I lose him and there is never another one? What if this is the end of my life? It was a pretty short life and I did nothing.

I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve had crushes on boys before, but that was different. Besides, none of them every kissed me. I want to call him, I don’t want to call him, I want him to call me.

So instead I call Ravi. I don’t know, he’s the only dude I can talk to. I feel like I need the advice of a guy to help me about a guy. So I call up my brother, he’s sitting at home, eating. What else would he be doing? I explain to him the entire situation.

“So what do I do?” I ask and wind the phone cord around my fingers.

“Let’s go out to lunch,” he says. I’ll meet you halfway at Coney Island in West Bloomfield. Let’s meet at two.

“Aren’t you eating right now?” I ask bewildered by home much this man can eat.

“Don’t worry about my eating habits. I’m getting sick of Indian food. I need some fries.”

“OK.”

As I’m driving to Coney Island, I wonder how I’m going to fix this. Then I think about god. Should I pray? I forget how to pray. I mean I don’t do traditional, please god give me this, kinda prayer. But I feel like prayer is called for in this circumstance.

So god, I think to myself, can you please allow Sonny to show his true feelings for me. And please make it so his true feelings are true love. Thanks.

I guess that was a lame prayer, but I’m not sure what constitutes a good one. I wonder if Sonny prays. I wonder if he thinks about me. I mean does a guy make out with a girl and never think of her again? Is that even possible?

He doesn’t have to be in love with me, he can just like me a lot. But I’m kinda of afraid that is what’s true. He doesn’t love me, does he? He must at least like me or he would not have done what he did.

I’m driving past trees that are nearly dead in the fall weather. There are leaves all over the place on the ground. The leaves are multicolored and beautiful.

I finally get to Coney Island and I park crooked. I’m not the world’s best parker. When I first learned how to drive I knocked off both the side mirrors on our old Cadilac in the garage. I handed the mirrors to my dad and he just said, “I’m not fixing this.”

All of a sudden it occurs to me that my father is at home, drinking himself to death. I try not to think about that fact often. I try to pretend it’s happening in someone else’s life. I walk into the restaurant and see Ravi sitting at a booth staring at the menu.

“Hey,” I say and scoot into the booth. I feel like maybe I’m gaining weight since I started college. They say freshman gain on average 15 pounds, I feel like I might be halfway there.

“Hey there,” Ravi says and doesn’t look up from the menu.

“How’s Dad?” I ask while staring at a waitress with platinum blonde hair.

“He’s still alive,” Ravi says, and all I can see is the menu instead of his face.

I pick up the menu and look at the salads. I think I need to be a little better about my diet. Ravi orders a coney dog and curly fries. That sounds so good, but I’m good and order a greek salad.

“So what’s going on?” Ravi asks and plays with the salt shaker.

“Can I call Sonny?” I ask right away, just getting to the point.

“No,” Ravi says and shakes his head. “You need to let him call you. He will,give him time. Once I got a girl’s number from a bar and it took me a month to call her, she barely remembered me.”

“Why, why did you do that? Why do guys do stuff like that?” I ask.

“It’s just a thing. I can’t really explain it,” he says and takes a sip of Coke.

“I mean do I have to wait like a month? I don’t know if I’m capable of that,” I say and sip on my Diet Coke.

“You are going to have to learn to be patient…” he sighs.

“When is the last time you talked to Nima?” I ask about his girlfriend.

“It’s been more than a month. But I can wait. She won’t answer my calls.”

“Keep calling, I’m sure she appreciates that, even if she’s not answering,” I say and wonder how it is that men and women are so different.

“I think I’m in love with Sonny,” I say and am amazed that I said it. That is the first time I’ve said it out loud to anyone.

“I’m sorry,” Ravi says and plays with his napkin.

“You’re sorry?”

“Love sucks,” he declares and looks right at me. “This is just the beginning of how bad it sucks.”

“It’s his fault that things are all terrible,” I whine.

“It’s your fault that you care so much.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I say.

“You can walk away,” Ravi says very matter of factly.

“I can’t though,” I retort.

“I’m worried that you told me has a girlfriend or had a girlfriend. I’m worried he’s using you.”

“How can his girlfriend mean anything to him after what happened between us?” I ask.

“Oh, she can. That’s the problem, she can.”

“I hate him.” My eyes start to well up with tears.

“Good, he deserves that.”

Why do I like men, I wonder. They make no sense. They are mean. And they do things without thinking. I remember watching Designing Women and there is the episode where the main character does this rant about how men are the rapists, the murderers, the thieves. It’s true. Men are horrible people and now I find myself in love with one of them.

I don’t know how to read him. I don’t know why I want to be with him.

I just do.

nina

If 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 One

The Patient Sikh: Part Two–The Wonder Years

The Patient Sikh: Part Three–Sonny

The Patient Sikh: Part Four–Song Lyrics

The Patient Sikh: Part Five–Your Song

The Patient Sikh: Part Six–Coffee Talk

The Patient Sikh: Part Seven--Chocolate Covered Love

The Patient Sikh: Part Eight--Kiss And Tell