by Namita Singh
feels the same, but it holds a certain appeal for you if you’re the partner.”
I nod slowly, “So…”
“So, his aura is different. That is why I was so astounded by his punch in the morning today. I have never heard of him physically working out in school and I certainly didn’t expect him to throw that perfect punch. Duato couldn’t even stand it. And Duato isn’t exactly a weak guy.”
I frown at Aakir, “What are you saying? That Neal is not a human?” I snort and roll my eyes. Aakir can be so dramatic at times. But still, I can’t help but feel a little defensive over his accusation towards my partner. Towards Neal…not partner. I mean, yeah partner, but…ugh.
Aakir glares at me, “I am just saying that his aura is different, suspiciously so. His strength has just added to my curiosity.”
I shake my head, “Neal told me once that he wants to learn certain fighting techniques. Maybe he is taking some defense classes and learnt certain tricks…You need the right technique than strength in a fight anyways.” I shrug my shoulders.
Aakir frowns, “If you say so…but that still doesn’t explain his aura.” He mumbles.
“Well,” I start but pause abruptly, tilting my head towards the inside of our house, “Is that mom?” I ask Aakir.
Aakir tilts his head too, seeking the joyous aura of my mother. He looks befuddled as he nods at me. Both of us open the back door and enter our house. Once inside, I can lucidly feel my mother’s aura coming from the kitchen. We walk towards it and there she is, leaning over the stove, adorned in an apron.
“Mom?” I say.
Surprised, my mother turns around and then smiles hugely. “You boys are home.” She states, smiling so wide that her white teeth beginto blind me. She hastily starts to remove her apron.
“Why aren’t you at the shop?” Aakir asks her, as he walks and settles on a stool beside the island.
My mother nonchalantly waves away at him, “Rufina will take care today.” She says. She drops her apron on the island and walks towards me. Before I can comprehend, she cradles my head in her small hands, placing one on either side of my face. She gently forces me to bend at her height and I comply. I watch as she happily smiles at me, her usually diluted aura empowering my senses with happy feelings. Then she smacks two sloppy kisses on either of my cheek, no doubt leaving smears of lipstick behind. I wince but there is a smile on my face owing to her sudden affection. She retreats but let her hands cradle my face still, her smile widening more than I thought should have been possible.
“I am so proud of you.” She tells me happily.
I manage to raise an eyebrow in question through my surprised state.
“I am so happy for you. So happy that you have found your partner and so soon.” She gushes.
My smile and the confused state immediately vanish. Of course. Father obviously must have informed mother of the development. Did he tell her that it is a guy? My mother’s felicitous response makes me dubious about that. Why would she be happy if she knows that it is a guy?
“Mom…” I start, placing a hand on her right hand which is placed upon my left cheek. “It’s…it’s…”
“Yes?” she says still smiling. She then gives me a droll look, “Why the long face all of a sudden?” she taps my cheek once, “It’s considered an honor to have a partner, you know. You should be really happy.”
“Mom, it’s a guy.” I tell her, not liking that she may be building castles in the air.
She frowns, but her smile doesn’t falter, “I know that. So?”
I stare at her. Did she just say that she knows my partner is a guy? “Mom,” I start again, straightening up. Since she is short, she has no choice but to let go of my face, “My partner is a guy.” I tell her, enunciating each word.
Mother nods, “Nikolai told me it is a boy.”
…okay.
I don’t know if I should feel relieved or utterly confused at my mother’s reaction. She is seemingly happy that I have found a partner rather than worried about the gender of the said partner.
“Mom,” I start again.
“Shush,” she says, interrupting me, “Tell me,” she continues, her usual joyous stance a little tame now. Even her smile has dimmed a little, but the happiness still shines in her eyes, “Are you ashamed of him?” she asks.
I am taken aback by her question and it doesn’t even take me a second before I am saying, “No.”
And that’s true. The whole day I have been appalled, confused, even afraid, but never once did I feel shame to have Neal as my partner. Hell, I have stood up for him twice since morning, once against Duato and once against Aakir’s reasoning. Shame is definitely not something that even fleetingly took over me. Had that been the case then while questioning the acceptance of my partner I would have considered my own acceptance before anybody else’s. But I vividly remember being surprised myself that I wasn’t even pausing to consider if I want to accept Neal as my partner or not. Because that question is invalid, having only one option to select and that’s acceptance.
My mother, satisfied with my answer, smiles again, “Then I see no reason for you to be worrying.” She says. I don’t reply, mostly because I do not know what to reply. My mother continues to smile at me. Noticing my dubious stance, she sighs, “Josh,” she begins again, “I am happy for you as long as you’re happy for yourself. If you’re doubtful about the reaction of the family then that’s the most trivial thing you’re focusing on.”
Such a reaction is the last thing I have been expecting. It’s baffling how casual my mother’s demeanor is, but then she is hardly acting any different than Aakir. Just like him she is telling me that she accepts me no matter what. More, she is exultant upon it. I am slightly overwhelmed. I say nothing but just engulf mother’s small stature in a hug. Mother coos at me as she pats my back. I rest my chin on her shoulder, swallowing past the sudden lump in my throat. It takes me several moments to coax my rheumy eyes. Once I am sure that I will not burst out crying like a baby, I pull back and kiss my mother on the forehead. She pinches my cheek then abruptly turns away, humming to herself. I look around the kitchen and notice that Aakir is not there. He must have left to offer us some privacy.
“I am making your favorite.” My mother says proudly, turning back to the stove. Alas, my mother has found another reason to cook a lavish supper. “And,” she says, turning back to me, “I want to meet the young boy.”
Now that makes me roll my eyes.
My mother gives me a chiding look at my nonchalance, “I am serious, Josh. What’s his name?”
“Neal.” I mumble, now feeling a little awkward.
“Neal what?”
“Neal Stephens.”
Mother hums, smiling. “Is he cute?”
“Mom.” I say, exasperatedly.
Mother shrugs innocently, “I am just asking. I am sure you must find him so. He is your partner.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is something uninvited, not to mention unwanted.
“Mom?” I say, resting my elbows on the island, “Don’t insinuate romance between us, okay?” I grimace as I say that.
Mother gives me another scolding look, “Then what am I supposed to do? Assume you two to be brothers?”
Her suggestion has me pondering. I, again, believe that this ‘partner’ thing may not be an indication of the best romantic interest possible to you. Since the whole basis of this is the congeniality between two beings, I assume my companionship with Neal shall satiate the bond. We are both guys. Both are straight, at least I definitely am. It is against nature to be inclined romantically towards each other. Sure, there are gay people in the world and I have nothing against them. It’s their life and their choice to spend their lives with whoever they want. That still doesn’t mean that it is a natural form of mating. So, I suppose that our ‘partner’ bonding doesn’t necessarily have to be inclined towards that. Maybe…maybe we can become close friends. Maybe I can come to love him as a brother while remaining in a dome
stic partnership with him. That is certainly a possibility. Because for the life of me I can’t imagine spending my whole life without Neal’s aura around me.
“Maybe,” I voice my thoughts, “We’ll become as close as brothers.”
My mother stops her cooking and looks at me, “I was being sarcastic, Josh.”
Oh.
I clear my throat, “Yeah, but we don’t have to be… romantic or whatever towards each other. We can stay as close friends…very close friends…” I mumble at the end.
Out of nowhere my mother bursts into laughter, her laugh chiming in the silent house. She sobers up when she notices my serious gaiety.
“Um,” she begins, trying to refrain from smiling but terribly failing so, “Maybe.” She gives in but her jesting smile speaks the opposite. “You should ask Nikolai. He knows better of therian traditions.” She says.
The name of my father immediately squishes the hope I have come to feel since at home. I am still dreadful of his reaction. Out of everyone it’s his approval I seek the most.
“How did he react…uh, about this?” I ask mother.
Mother ponders, stirring the stew on the stove. She simply shrugs, “Like he always does.” She turns to look at me, “He just informed me and then he was off doing other work.”
“He sounded shocked on the phone.”
My mother snorts elegantly, “He lookedas stoic as he always does when he told me.”
“Do you think…” I start, hesitative, “Do you think he doesn’t