The Patient Sikh: Part Twenty-Six--The Paper

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

Something should happen in my life, just sayin’. To be real, I’m bored. I thought adulthood would be more interesting. I thought I’d definitely find the meaning of life by now. Apparently, Sonny is not the meaning of my life. I am practically nothing to him. So there’s that.

Supposedly there is more to life than boys. I’m shocked.

So I was sitting on my bed minding my own business when the phone rang. I looked at it, not expecting much. “Hello,” I said and stared at a poster of two kids in black and white with a red rose in the center.

“Hey there,” Sonny said. It was Sonny. I did not expect this. He wanted to meet and I told him yes because how could I say no. I know, I know, I could say no. But really, I couldn’t. I don’t have it in me. I’m weak. He makes me weak.

He makes me stupid. He makes me do things I should not do.

So I met him at Bruegger's Bagels, he came to my campus cause he’s the one with the car.

I sat down with a bagel with bacon and chives cream cheese and waited for him. I drank a hot chocolate I had gotten from Expresso Royale. So I sat there, getting kind of nervous, starting at a Black woman feeding her little boy when Sonny walked in, carrying a bagel of his own.

He looked good, he always looked good to me. I think he knew that. I wonder how I looked to him. I was wearing a turquoise shirt and some jeans, nothing special. I didn’t want him to think I was particularly trying for him, which I was.

“Hey,” he said and sat down across from me in a booth.

“Hi there,” I chirped. Why was I chirping? When did I become a bird?

So we sat there at Bruegger's, eating our bagels. It was nice, it was casual. It was the middle of the day. Was he going to suggest going for a ride again? In the middle of the day? Maybe he would suggest going back to my place, but I have a roommate who is a bitch and he knows that.

The real question was, would I say no if he wanted to make out again? I’ve never said no to a guy before. I’ve never said yes either, but you don’t necessarily have to say yes the way you have to say no. I really didn’t know how to say no to Sonny. As much as I knew he was a user and an asshole, something inside me could not do it.

“The thing is, I got this paper I have to write,” he finally said as I sipped on my hot cocoa. Are you kidding me right now? He wants academic help? Seriously? How much can he use me for and how much will I submit?

“OK, I can help you,” I said. Apparently submitting to it all.

“Well I was kind of wondering if you could kind of write it for me, I suck at English.” He looked straight at me when he asked me to break the law, break the academic code of every college, and break my heart.

“Oh,” I said. “You know, I mean, I can help you write a great paper, you’ll probably get an A.”

“It’s a term paper, it’s thirty-percent of my grade. I have so much stuff to study, I was just wondering if you could do me this one favor.” I wanted to cry. I wanted to spit out my hot chocolate, spit on him, and walk away.

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable writing a paper for you,” I said and looked him right in the eyes. I might feel comfortable punching you in the face.

“What if...what if I paid you…” his voice trailed off.

“That’s not what I meant. I mean I don’t want your money. It’s just not right,” I said more offended as the conversation went on. Pay me? You want to pay me for sex next? “Listen I’m OK helping you with your paper, but I can’t write it for you.”

“OK, that’s cool. Can we work on it next week? I don’t have time until Monday, I’ve got a Calculus exam,” he said and smiled.

What the fuck am I doing talking to you? Promising you help when all I want to do is die right now. Not only are you using me for making out purposes and you probably eventually expect sex, but now you want to use me for my intelligence too. You don’t even appreciate my intelligence. You are an idiot. I hate you.

“Yeah, sure, next week works,” I say knowing full well I have my own papers and exams to work on. I’m a sucker. I’m a sucker for a guy who doesn’t give a shit about me. I’m a sucker for being used and abused.

The women in my Women’s Studies class would be so disappointed that I’m bowing down to a man in this way. I’m disappointed. What’s wrong with me, don’t I have any self-respect?

“Wanna go for a drive?” Sonny asked.

Are you fucking kidding me?

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