by Tara Pammi
Farah drew in a relieved breath. And tried to shuffle aside her own fears and insecurities. “Are you okay?” she asked, sensing a note of something in Star Bells’s voice.
One shoulder rose in a shrug. “Fine.” But the damp sheen making her eyes bright said something else.
“Tara, you can talk to me about anything. I would–”
“Don’t indulge me, Farah. It’s bad enough you–”
“I want to indulge you. I want to be here for you. In any way I can.”
“Do you think I haven’t noticed that you keep fixing all the various things around the house?” Tara asked, confusing Farah further.
“I do them because I have always been handy. And because I like doing things for you,” Farah offered softly. She had all the time in the world to listen to Tara.
“You do them all perfectly. Just like you’re good at this too,” Tara said, after a long, pregnant pause.
“At what?”
“Dancing,” Star Bells finally said, with a vehemence that made Farah frown. It wasn’t anger but frustration. “You didn’t like...watch the video a few times in secret just to look at Nalini Akka, did you?”
“No. I would never touch your iPad without your permission.”
“I know that,” Tara said softly, regret lacing her words. Her chin dropped down. “God, I sound like a miserable, petty bitch, don’t I?”
Farah caught Tara’s retreating hand with the tips of her fingers and pulled them up. Slowly, she set her fingers to fall into place between Tara’s, clicking and locking. It felt like the missing piece in a puzzle, the most vital piece, slotting into place. Her heart stopped its rapid bouncing around in her rib cage and slowed down. Settled in.
“You are the last person in the entire universe that title would ever apply to, Star Bells. So you have to promise me that you will never talk about yourself like that. Please,” she added at the end. It hurt her – literally twisted her stomach into a tight knot – to see even a little of Tara’s brightness dim. “You know, Mama used to say you are not capable of loving anything in this world if you do not love yourself first. For whoever you are. And if there is anything in this world that I know with a conviction, it is that you were made to love, to spread sunshine.”
“You really believe that, don’t you? About me? Even after you’ve seen in my various messy incarnations?”
Farah nodded.
Tara didn’t meet her gaze, her attention riveted on their clasped fingers. “You don’t talk about her much.”
Farah tried to swallow the lump in her throat. This was too important a conversation, too big a moment in her life to be lost for words. “No.” She returned Tara’s squeeze on her fingers with all the strength and faith she possessed in her heart. “It is very hard for me. I...”
“It’s okay.” Tara tugged on their clasped hands and lifted it to her mouth. “Can I kiss you here?”
Farah nodded, something uncoiling deep and low in her belly.
Tara pressed a soft kiss to the back of Farah’s hand. A benediction. Wet heat prickled behind Farah’s eyelids. God, the last thing she wanted to do right now was cry again. All through the time when she should have grieved, she had been frozen. And now, now that grief came forth at one kind word from Tara.
It felt like she was finally crossing a bridge between her old life where Mama had played the central role and this new life – full of loss and pain but also courage.
She was not her old self anymore. But she was not her new self yet either. She was an unknown and for a girl who’d always thrived on knowing who she was, this not...knowing was the hardest part. But when Farah closed her eyes, she felt Star Bells around her.
It was easier to focus on the lingering warmth of Tara’s mouth against her skin. To let it stand like an anchor against everything else. To see herself being shaped into something new by the affection she felt for this girl.
“That means–” Tara’s lips moved down with maddening slowness to the pulse flickering at her wrist, leaving a trail of heat on Farah’s skin, “–you like me. Like...a lot.”
Farah opened her eyes to find the naughty glimmer back in Star Bells’ eyes. Her world instantly transformed into a better place. “I like you, Star Bells. A lot.”
Tara’s breasts rose and fell, bringing Farah’s attention down to the swell rising above the deep V of her top.
“You’re staring at my breasts,” Star Bells notified her helpfully.
“Hmmm. I have a thing for breasts. A giant thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. And yours are...” Farah stretched out her finger and held it over Tara’s neck. “Can I touch you?”
“Yes please. Anywhere, everywhere.”
Farah pressed her forefinger and middle finger against Tara’s pulse. Then dragged them down. Softly, slowly until she reached the plump upper curves of Tara’s breasts. Swallowing hard, she moved her fingers between the two, left and right, like a skier crisscrossing curves. And then dipping it down into the valley, going deeper inside every time. Tara’s skin was warm and damp and exquisitely soft like a hand-woven silk sari.
“What are mine?” Tara prompted, her voice going husky.
“Hmm?” Farah asked.
A giggle escaped Tara’s mouth, and an unfettered joy mingled with the slow languorous desire in Farah’s veins. “You said you had a thing for tits and then you said mine were...What are my tits, babe?”
Farah looked up and blushed. “Your breasts are,” she said, determined to make this very clear, “quite simply exquisite, Star Bells. I could spend years burrowed in here. Doing all sorts of things.” She sent one finger on a rogue path sideways, almost reaching but not touching the tight knot in the middle. She looked down to find the plump nipples pebbling against Tara’s top. “Just touching, and licking and sucking and...”
Tara’s thighs jerked against hers, and she edged closer, as if she needed to soothe the ache between them. An answering ache echoed at Farah’s sex.
“Farah, I–”
“You never say my name like that,” Farah said, reaching inside Tara’s blouse and tracing the plump nipple.
Tara moaned and pushed into her touch. “Farah…I want more. Please tell me you want more, tell me you want the same. For however long you’re here.”
For however long...a flicker of fear pulsed through Farah. She didn’t want to think of however long. “Should I tell you what’s been on my mind, Tara?”
“Yes,” Tara demanded, arching her body into Farah’s touch.
“I would very much like to fuck you, Star Bells,” Farah said, rubbing the plump knot between her fingers gently. “That is what I’ve been thinking for quite a few days.”
And then they were kissing and Farah never wanted the moment to be over.
Tara’s lush mouth was soft and warm. Farah held on as she pressed her lips this way and that, nudging closer with each kiss. Tara’s breasts crushed against hers. She nudged her thigh up, scissoring it between Tara’s, sending it higher and higher until she could rub against her core.
Star Bells moaned and pressed closer.
Farah didn't know what she’d expected. But as Tara’s lips touched hers in a deep, heavenly slide, a strange exhilaration filled her. Maybe because she knew Star Bells wouldn’t look at her with recrimination and regret tomorrow morning. As if she both loved her but also hated her. Maybe because there was something extremely life-affirming about a person who couldn’t wait to hold you close. With more enthusiasm than Farah had ever shown anything in her life. They kissed until they were breathing shallowly, until their heartbeats zigzagged together, until the only sounds around them were their frantic breaths.
“Mmmm...I love the taste of that syrup on you, babe,” Tara whispered.
Farah slid her fingers to cup Tara’s neck, loving the feel of her hair against her fingers. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want to come. But I…”
“Tara, whatever you want and however you want it is
okay. You can tell me exactly what you want.”
“How about you?” Tara asked with a groan as Farah continued caressing her nipples.
“I want to see you come.”
Star Bells’ gaze met hers and whatever she saw in Farah’s eyes, she nodded. “I want to touch myself. Will you keep kissing me?”
Farah nodded, excitement building in her own belly. “What do you need?”
“Touch my…tits. Keep touching them.”
“Take off your shirt.”
Star Bells pulled off her crop top and then unhooked her bra. She let out a relieved breath. Farah gently cupped Tara’s breasts, loving the weight of them in her palms, letting her fingers circle the nipples without touching them. Her desire always built slowly, tangled up in too much emotion. “Touch yourself, Star Bells. I can’t wait to see you come.”
Tara nodded and snuck her fingers under the waistband of her shorts. Farah continued circling her nipples, and kissed a trail up and down Tara’s neck. She licked her skin and dragged her teeth gently up and down, all the while watching Tara stroke herself.
Tara’s skin tasted like salt and heat and unvarnished desire. Like truth and honesty and lust. Farah pressed her front to Tara’s side, loving the slide and slip of her curves against her own.
“More please,” Tara whispered, her pelvis rising and falling in a gentle rhythm under her hand.
“May I put my mouth on your breasts?”
“God, yes, please, Farah.”
Farah dipped her head down and took the plump nipple into her mouth. Tara jerked off the floor. “Fuck, that feels soo good.”
Farah continued, listening to every hitch and gasp that fell from Tara’s mouth. She continued to lick and lave the knot, suckling softly in between. Each groan and gasp that fell from Tara’s mouth made desire run hot in her own veins.
Eyes closed, her body chasing her stroking fingers off the ground, her breaths shallow, Tara was the most the erotic sight Farah had ever seen.
Star Bells came with a jerk of her body and a soft moan. Farah kept licking the taut bud until the tremors in Tara’s body subsided. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered at Tara’s temple.
Tara dived in for a hard kiss that revved up Farah faster than ever for the sheer joy and need in it. “Now it’s your turn.”
“Some other time.”
“Are you sure?” Tara asked. “Babe, you do know that you’re turning down an orgasm, right? I mean, I have no prior experience with someone else but I can learn the system. Fast.”
Farah laughed and snuggled up closer to her warm curves. “I believe you, Star Bells. But today, I’m more than satisfied to know how you look when you come and what sounds you make.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.” Farah nuzzled into the curve of her neck. “Just kiss me a little longer please.”
She’d barely finished asking before Star Bells pushed her back onto the floor and proceeded to kiss the hell out Farah, as she put it.
Nine
Tara
This was it: the day of the battle.
I rubbed my eyes as I moved my arm holding the agarbatti in circles around Ganesha’s brass idol. My faith in him was directly proportional to how desperately out of control my own life felt at a particular moment. In this, I understood the basic concept of proportionality very well.
Facing a math test called for all-out measures. So I’d performed the trifecta of morning pooja like Ammamma used to, though hers was much more elaborate. I chanted a mantra nine times, offered Ganesha a banana and some cashew nuts and lit an incense stick. I’d already done my bargaining with him, offering to volunteer at a food shelter and donate three months of my YouTube income to a girls’ charity in India.
There was no ‘good deeds done will get you a better grade in math’ concept anywhere in all the million stories about the gazillion Gods we had but I figured it wouldn’t hurt my chances. Those were things I’d been meaning to do anyway. That we had to do whatever we could for people less privileged than us was a lesson Amma and Dad had taught me with their actions since forever.
Ammamma used to say that Ganesha couldn't grant miracles if you didn't put yourself in the path of the miracle by a combination of hard work and by sticking to your chosen path. I moved over to the pic I had of her on the mantel and moved the agarbatti in circles around her photo too.
Hadn’t she always said even God didn’t care about those who ignored their ancestors? This was something I’d always been onboard for. If there was any luck or magic or goodwill she could throw my way, I knew Ammamma would.
Also this time, I could proudly proclaim that I’d stuck to my path and for the first time in my life, I’d gone to Ganesha having prepped my ass off. It was getting more and more vague about why I’d decided passing this blasted course equaled my self-worth, but now was not the time to ponder that.
That little seed of doubt was Farah’s fault. “Why do you so desperately want to pass this mathematics course, graduate high school and follow everyone else? You clearly have your own path, Star Bells.”
“I’d be the only person in my entire family – on both sides, who failed high school,” I’d added, outraged by her question.
But her straightforward question niggled at me and I was afraid of what I’d discover if I kept digging. Farah had a way of saying things that made me swallow that first impulse and think. Like chewed-out gum stuck to school desks. But now was not the time to ponder if I should be sitting this test at all. One whiff of that kind of self-doubt and my rascal brain could very much decide it didn’t need this and shut it all down.
I gave one last glance at Farah’s closed bedroom wistfully. She’d been gone even though I’d woken pretty early and knocked at eight. The Jasmine scent of the agarbatti clung to me as I went upstairs. I wasn’t sure why I was craving company this morning, but I did. Usually, I avoided my parents and friends and anybody else when I was deep in the pit of my troubles.
I was also too tired for once in my life to cook something for myself, even though I knew I’d pay for it later with a painful headache.
Amma was leaning against the kitchen island and watching the rain outside, looking as if she didn’t quite belong there. I smiled. For as long as I could remember, Amma always looked uncomfortable unless she had a sheaf of papers in her hand or a laptop in her lap. She breathed, ate and slept math.
I wanted to run away. I also wanted to hug her. My gaze flicked to the clock on the wall. What was she doing home at eleven in the morning?
She turned to find me staring at her.
"Good morning, Tara," she said, her face lighting up as if she hadn't seen me for days.
I felt a pang of guilt but shoved it away.
Without replying, I reached into one of the cabinets and pulled out a plastic tray I’d tucked in there a few days ago. With colorful, festive bows tacked onto them, the care packages I’d made for the students that worked with her brightened the gloomy atmosphere.
"I got two extra because I wasn't sure if Sihong and Sanjay had returned or not. Also I kind of cheated and added a little extra something to Lamar’s package. As a thank you for the sign he made for me.”
Her gaze flicked to the packages and then back to my face. "Thank you for all the effort you put into them every year, Tara. But that’s not why I’m waiting for you."
She reached for the coffee mug inside the microwave and I groaned.
The tinkling of the spoon as it hit the inside of the mug sounded like death knell. My poor stomach cramped in remembered agony. She handed me the mug and the smell of the burnt coffee and the thick milk together made me want to retch. But since I didn't want to hurt her feelings, I took the mug from her and held it at arm’s length.
“Don’t you have a meeting with your TAs today?” I looked into the mug, making that decision to pour it down the sink, like I always did. But Amma had always encouraged honesty between us. Why couldn’t I simply tell her that it tasted like what I imagined
sewer water would? Was I complicating everything between us?
"I took the morning off," she said cheerfully.
I sat on the farthest dining chair from her and she mirrored me.
"I thought we could have a nice chat. Feels like we haven’t talked properly since before I went to India with Thaatha for summer. I know I have been very busy this entire semester and you are–"
"It's okay, Amma." I took a sip of the cursed coffee just to get the knot in my throat to move. I hated making her feel guilty. "I know the long hours you work when it’s grant application season. It’s fine.”
She smiled, bright and wide, taking my words at face value. I wanted to thump the mug as hard as possible against the dark wood of the table and let it splash all over. I wanted to scream and throw a tantrum that I was being only partly truthful. I wanted to cry.
"So you and Farah like each other, huh?”
All my juvenile impulses about having a flaming tantrum came to a shuddering halt. "What?" I looked up to see her eyes twinkle with naughtiness. "What are you talking about? How do you… She told you?"
Amma nodded. "She said she likes you and that you like her and that you were going to spend some time together. The remaining three weeks that she's here, I guess. And she said that if it made your Dad or me uncomfortable, she’d move out."
I frowned. Wasn't Farah the one who said she would respect my decision whatever it was? And why was Amma so delighted about this? I mean yes, I knew that she’d support me, absolutely.
She’d already done that last summer when she’d confronted Mavayya – her twin brother with whom she was so close – about his sudden cold attitude towards me. Dad refused to tell me exactly what Mavayya’d said, but only that Amma had decided that it wasn’t okay. She’d cut him off without a second thought because he’d been less than supportive towards me after I had come out. Theory and execution had very little gap for Amma.
Supporting me when I told her and my dad that I was a lesbian meant supporting me when her genius intern said we were kinda together. Still, it was a bit much to see her grinning as if she couldn't wait to tease me or talk to me about girlfriend troubles. "I know it might seem strange to you but do not forget that Farah only did what a good houseguest would do,” she added. “Not that I would’ve held it against her if she’d kept it a secret. But since she is our guest, I can see how she felt compelled to tell us.