up my feelings, Kells. I don’t sit up in my room pining away, writing love poems. I’m not a dreamer. I’m a fighter. I’m a man of action, and it will take all of my self-control not to fight for this. When something needs to be done, I do it. When I feel something, I act on it. I don’t see any reason why Ren deserves to get the girl of his dreams and I don’t. It doesn’t seem fair that this happens to me twice.”
I put my hand on his arm. “You’re right. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that you’ve had to be with me night and day for the past few weeks. It’s not fair to ask you to set aside your feelings. It’s not fair to ask you to be my friend when you feel this way. But, the fact is, I need you. I need your help. I need your support. And, I especially need your friendship. I wouldn’t have survived one day in Shangri-la without you. I don’t think I can rescue Ren without you, either. It’s not fair to ask, but I’m asking. Please. I need you to let me go.”
He looked at the house, brooding for a moment, and then at me. He touched my wet hair and discontentedly said, “Alright. I’ll back off, but I’m not doing it for him and definitely not doing it for me. I’m doing it for you. Remember that.”
I nodded silently and watched him stalk off to the veranda. My knees buckled, and I sat down hard on the pool chair.
I spent the rest of the day in my room studying texts on the Baiga. I kept rereading sections. I felt divided, torn. I was confused. I felt like someone had asked me to pick which parent would live and which would die. Whichever choice I made, I would feel responsible for the death of the other one. It wasn’t about choosing happiness; it was about choosing suffering. Which one would I make suffer?
I didn’t want either of them to suffer. My happiness was irrelevant. This wasn’t like breaking up with Li or Jason. Ren needed me, loved me. But Kishan did too. There was no easy choice, no answer that would appease both of them. I pushed the books aside, picked up one of Ren’s poems and a Hindi/English dictionary. It was one of the poems he’d written after I left India. It took me a long time to translate it, but it was worth it.
Am I alive?
I can breathe
I can feel
I can taste
But the air doesn’t fill my lungs
All textures are rough
All tastes are muted
Am I alive?
I can see
I can hear
I can sense
But the world is black and white
Voices sound tinny and small
What I sense is confusing and out of place
When you’re with me
Air rushes into my being
Fills me with light
And happiness
I am alive!
The world is full of color and sound
Tastes tantalize my palate
Everything is soft and fragrant
I sense the warmth of your presence
I know who I am and what I want
I want you.
Ren
A giant tear fell with a splat on the paper. I quickly moved it out of teardrop range. Despite Kishan’s heartfelt words and the confusion about my relationship with him, there was one thing I couldn’t deny. I loved Ren. Wholeheartedly. The truth was, if Ren had been here, been with me, this wouldn’t be an issue.
When he was with me, I also knew who I was and what I wanted. Even without the strong connection, I could feel my heart swell at his words. I could picture him saying them, sitting at his desk, and writing them.
If I needed an answer, it was here—in my heart. When I thought of Kishan, I felt confusion and affection, mixed with a dollop of guilt. With Ren, I felt open and light. Free and desperately happy. I loved Kishan, but I was in love with Ren. How it happened was irrelevant. The fact was, it did happen.
As Kishan had said, I’d been with him longer now than with Ren. It wasn’t surprising that we’d become closer. But, Ren held my heart in his hands. It beat only because he cherished it.
I was determined to be kind to Kishan. I was familiar with heartbreak. Mr. Kadam was right that Kishan needed me too. I had to be firm with him and let him know he was my friend. That I could be anything he needed me to be with the exception of a sweetheart.