1 Dream

It was raining continuously in the morning so I looked at the clock again. It was five o'clock in the morning. My sleep was disturbed already and the dreams started coming again and again. I saw those five guys again. Those guys were seriously into body building I could tell. I know salivating after boys when I had a boyfriend already who was equally hot was wrong in many words. But my excuse was that it was in my dreams and I can hardly control them right?

 I decided to complete my essay for tomorrow. My teacher  will be very happy today but my classmates will not. My insomnia had a surprisingly positive effect on my studies. My parents, both were so driven, were over the moon when I showed them my grades. Yes I'm one of the rare high-school girls who loves my parents. I haven't told them about my dreams though they were gory and bloody. Like a period drama though Indian one which was like an alien thing to me. I'm Indian girl, brown skinned and bullied enough to never forget that fact. Until I decided to fight back I armored myself with karate lessons which my parents happily provided they were both black belts. I wasn't bothered anymore then hormones took over and as they say the rest is history .

Then Karan happened  Indian like me who had Indian parents and was very informed about our roots. I chose the easy way out, stayed out of Indian cafeteria, bookstore or anything remotely Indian but then Karan came to my life successfully destroying all my barricades. I loved him the second he said excuse me you look like an Indian so can we be friends. I still tease him for saying that but in his defense it wasn't a line but a request. Usually I pretended to be anything but an Indian one time I said I was from Iran. The guy was confused and left immediately. Thank God some Asians look the same. 

Karan says being bullied early had a negative effect on me. This has led me to ignore my Indian roots. My parents being white haven't helped that. They didn't take any conscious action to help me gain knowledge of my heritage. They like to ignore the fact I'm adopted and pretend that I'm their biological child. I'm not complaining but this caused me to widen that rift between me and my culture.

They are OK with Karan though. They are nice to him whenever he comes over. I love them and I'm in serious debt that they have taken me as their child. I know I'm very privileged and I owe everything to them. I don't waste any opportunity to please them. I'm content with my life in every way.

I looked at the clock until my essay was finished, so I took a quick shower and stood in front of the mirror. I looked mighty hot. My skin was the color of honey. The clear complexion of the sun doesn't harm me the way it does my white friends. That was the only advantage I could think of on my race.

I put on heavy makeup under the eyes to prevent others seeing my dark circles.

I knew you Karan would catch me but I don't care. I went down to see my father holding a newspaper while my mother was working on laptop. I sighed and went to make a coffee. "Hey , could you make one cup for us too", my mom said. "Really mom? Who's the kid here"? I fake complained.

She laughed and answered,  " Sorry kiddo but I have to complete a last minute job. Tom will make it. Won't you dear? ", my mom rattled away. I laughed out at this. He won't know if a gun was fired a feet from him while reading a paper. I turned to make three cups of coffee. I'm a shit cook but I can manage coffee.

"How's Karan darling ?" My mom asked." He is away right now and his grandmother's funeral is tomorrow. I don't know when he comes back. It's tough to talk with different time zones. " I said mechanically the truth is that he hasn't contacted me yet from India. I thought we were going strong then something like this happened. I know he loves me but something always comes between us. My dreams featuring five men are  not as odd as a boyfriend not calling for a week straight. 

I don't know why I keep seeing them. Does it mean anything when these dreams stop? I stopped thinking it was giving me a headache. I pulled out my phone and called my best friend Jennifer. She is a cute black girl whose parents were immigrants like Karan but she has become American like me through and through.

She picked up the first ring and I felt instantly chirpy. "Hi so when are you going to pick me up?" I asked her. " If your boyfriend is not picking you then you better learn to drive Chica. I'm not going to be your chauffeur ", she told me mock seriously. " Please,  I promise this is the last time", I whined. I seriously hope Karan comes tomorrow. But I knew I could count on Jen to drive me to the end of the world.

I waited for ten minutes and a small red car came outside and started to honk. My parents passed me irritated looks. I quickly grabbed my bag and dashed outside, giving them a wave as I went. 

She was wearing a beautiful green dress. I'm wearing my jeans and a cute top. We gave each other a thumbs up; it was our secret code. If either of us looked bad  the other person would give a heads-up. Thumbs up means I look hot enough to slay and thumbs down means clothing emergency.

I know it's a bit tacky but it's our thing. Our friendship began when each of us hid in the same bathroom to escape the bullies. Jen, unlike me, is single and playing the field. She is into cheerleading and finding guys is not that hard, Karan obviously doesn't approve of her. But he knows his place and wisely keeps quiet. I'm Parshati and this is my story.