Page 12

ARUSH

His hand in mine is warm. I keep thinking mine is sweaty, which gives me the heebie-jeebies. I’m a little mortified that he’s holding my sweaty hand.

It’s been years since I’ve held someone’s hand.

Since Jash, probably. I’ve been thinking about it and I think he’s been the one and only actual boyfriend I’ve had.

There had been others after him, but I wouldn’t consider them boyfriends.

They were hookups because that’s what I thought I should be doing.

Even in gay culture, there are a lot of expectations on what it means to be gay. I’ve seen the good and the bad from all kinds of people online. I try to remind myself now that these so-called influencers aren’t really a great representation of what everyday life looks like. Are they an ideal?

No. I think they’re just thirst traps. They’re looking to lure you in to sign up for their sexy channels. I admit I’ve been lured into a few on occasion. Sex looks fun, but I’d much rather watch than be a part of it.

That being said, I’ve never watched in person. I think that would be far too awkward.

My point is, there are a lot of different opinions about what a future is supposed to look like for me. In so much of the world, India included, the future you aim for is marriage, children, a home, a career. I’ve since seen that’s been called heteronormative expectations.

Reading it makes me feel like if I want that, maybe I’m wrong.

I’ve seen the arguments that hookups are very normal. Going straight to sex in a relationship is very normal. Polyamorous relationships are very normal.

That’s all well and good, but I think these people touting this horn as what’s actually lived don’t realize there are a ton of dubbed cishet people that are also subject to the same stereotypes, right?

My baby sister was bemoaning not long ago about how she’s supposed to live up to the same tired pattern that the rest of the world is when maybe that’s not what she wants.

I don’t think heteronormative lifestyles are the problem.

It has nothing to do with sexual orientation at all.

It’s a mass organized, religion-based, conservative societal expectation, regardless of class, gender, race, orientation, or different religion.

There are people of all walks of life that don’t want to conform to the narrative of the epitome of a successful life being family and children.

I believe that the true source of these narratives is monogamous-normative majority touting under the religious flag. Anything outside of that is seen as wrong and taboo.

So there are people all over the world in every culture stating that we’re tired of being pushed into the cishet agenda when other cishet people are also stuck under those same expectations when maybe they don’t want to be either.

As with most things in life, people should just mind their own business.

Who cares if I’m a gay man and I want to get married?

Does that mean I’m doing it wrong? What if my sister—a straight woman—wants two boyfriends and a husband?

Is she being straight wrong? It’s frustrating when people from all walks of life have to poke at those who aren’t like them, forgetting that maybe they’re victims too.

I follow just as many gay couples and families as I do clickbait gay men and I can tell you that polyamory isn’t the end all for all gay men.

Neither are immediate hookups. I listen to some of these guys online complaining about the LGBTQIA+ community being stuffed into lifestyle expectations of straight people, and that’s not how it works.

Sure, but I think they also need to stop talking about everyone under those labels. I follow real-life couples and families and I can tell you they want marriage and children. They want a happy home life with just a single other person.

I learned early on that voices from inside my own community can be just as toxic as those on the outside. Those people who call themselves victims of such heteronormative agendas are now doing the same thing for their own community—placing expectations where they don’t need to be.

“Are you going to be okay?” Julian asks.

I nod.

“You’re not used to being alone, are you?”

Am I that obvious? I chew my lip for a minute and shake my head. “My siblings and nieces and nephews are always around,” I admit. “My closest friends are, too. When we’re not together, we spend a lot of time in video chats.”

“I’m sorry that’s more difficult for you now,” Julian says, his thumb rubbing softly over the back of my thumb. “When I get home, we’ll think of something to help make the time go by.”

“It’s okay.”

He shakes his head. “I know what it’s like being all alone in the condo. It can be its own kind of loud. Do whatever you need to entertain yourself, okay? You can play games or chat with your friends, though I know the time can be a little challenging.”

“Can I sleep in your bed?”

His smile is dazzling, even though I flush at my own question. “Yes.”

I nod, dropping my eyes to try to make the flush go away. Wow. That felt needy.

He squeezes my hand, and I look up. “You can call me anytime. We can text too.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll be home soon.”

As I watch Julian walk out the door, leaving me alone in the condo for twenty-four hours, these are the thoughts I’m thinking about because I want to get married to this man.

For me, my perfect future is a husband and a home.

I already can’t wait for him to walk back into that door and look into my eyes, knowing how much I missed him.

That’s just as normal as someone wanting multiple partners and lots of sex with random people.

It’s just as normal for people of every gender and orientation, regardless of which community they’re a part of.

It’s taken me a long time to realize that I don’t need to fit into a mold in either direction.

The voices from within the LGBTQIA+ community can be just as toxic as those from outside it.

Why am I thinking about this already this morning?

Probably because I was doom scrolling while Julian was getting ready to go and I stumbled across a gay man touting about the heteronormative agenda as reflected in media and online.

Right after, I watched a wholesome reel from one of my absolute favorite gay families online as they welcome a new puppy into their house.

Once again, it made me think I was living my lifestyle wrong.

It’s the same feeling of unease I felt when I realized I hate being touched sexually when that’s what I’m supposed to enjoy.

The same feeling of discomfort I felt when I realized I don’t want to live the kind of life I believed I was destined for in India where I’d never be allowed the partner of my choosing.

It reminds me that one person is not a spokesperson for everyone. It’s okay to be your own voice and not fall silent when someone else talks over you and pushes what’s considered normal for one specific kind of group.

In the condo that’s now absolutely silent, I can hear that voice loudly.

It echoes all around. This is going to be a very long twenty-four hours without Julian, isn’t it?

If I’m left to my own thoughts that are prone to make me question things about myself and whether I’m living the right kind of life, it’s far too quiet.

I pull out my phone and bring up the chat with my friends and hit the video button. It’s ten in the evening. They should still be awake.

As I suspected, Alok and Anil answer their phones. Their backgrounds look the same, as if they’re sitting beside each other, but I think they’re likely in their separate rooms.

“Hey!” Alok says, his smile splitting his face. “What’s going on over there in the cold?”

“Julian just left for a game in North Carolina.”

“How far is that?” Anil asks.

“By plane, a couple hours. His game is tonight, and then he’ll be home around midday tomorrow.”

“You’re all alone!” Alok says, his smile falling.

I nod. “Yep. I needed some conversation to distract me.”

“You can start by showing us around,” Anil says. “You haven’t even sent pictures, though we’ve harassed you so many times now.”

I laugh. “Fine.” I turn the camera around so it’s facing out and then turn back toward the entry. “This is the front door.”

“Wow. Smartass.”

Grinning, I turn as if I’m just walking through the door. To the right, I bring them into the laundry room.

“Is that a bathtub?” Anil asks. His image shows he’s squinting, leaning forward.

“Yes.”

“They take their baths in the same place they do the laundry?”

“Is that an American thing?” Alok adds.

I laugh. “He says that the previous owners washed their pets a lot.”

“Uh-huh. I still think it’s weird,” Alok says.

“And look how high off the floor it is. You have to climb into it,” Anil adds.

“But if you’re washing a dog, you don’t have to be on your knees to do so,” I point out.

The brothers make the same expression as they lift their shoulders as if thinking, fair point.

I leave the laundry room and stop at the kitchen, which is directly across from the entryway. The pantry is pretty nice too, though I’m not sure I have anything to compare it to. I love all the space for options, though.

The kitchen, dining and living is one open space in an L-shape, so we walk through into the living room where the walls of windows are on two sides. Bypassing the table, I press the phone to the glass.

Anil and Alok make appreciative sounds of approval about my view. I nod. Then I bring them to the other window perpendicular and show them that view.

“Julian says he chose the condo because of the windows and the tub in the laundry for his hockey pads,” I tell them.

“The views are definitely worth it, I think,” Anil says.

I move them through the living room and down into the hall, pushing open the door to the guest room that doesn’t have my stuff in it. I show them the door to the one that does and skip on by into Julian’s room.

I’m not sure why I’m pretending that I’m fully moved into Julian’s room. I think they’d understand if I was honest with them. A few days ago, I was at the point where I wanted to call and admit everything because I was… frustrated, confused, and maybe a little hurt. I didn’t know what to do.

But I feel better now. I feel like Julian and I are getting somewhere. Albeit slowly.

“I’m going to be honest,” Alok says. “Everything looks a little cold and devoid of personality.”

I laugh as I look around. “I agree.”

“Has he not let you add some color?” Alok asks.

“I haven’t asked. It hasn’t even crossed my mind to ask.”

“Would he be opposed to it, do you think?”

I look around as I consider his question. “I don’t know. I don’t think he would. He’s been learning how to cook our cuisine for me so I think he’d be open to it.”

“He is?” Anil asks, smiling hugely. “That’s sweet of him.”

“It is,” I agree. Considering he was doing this from almost the very first morning, despite him being thrown for a loop when I turned out to be a man instead of a woman, I think it’s actually incredibly sweet and thoughtful of him.

Jash joins the call then. “Sorry, I’m late. Putting the babies to bed. Why am I looking at a toilet?”

We laugh. “Sorry,” I say and take a step back to give him a broader view of the bathroom. “We started talking about décor and I guess I just stopped moving. This is the bathroom attached to the bedroom.”

“You missed the tour of their condo,” Alok says.

“That’s what you get for having home duties,” Anil says.

“No way. Start again,” Jash demands. “I like being a part of my babies’ routines. You’re just going to have to get used to it, spoiled brothers.”

I grin as I turn around and follow the path I took with Anil and Alok, but backwards, as they dispute whether they’re spoiled. Truth be told, I’m pretty sure we’re all spoiled. That’s just the world we grew up in.

When finished, I drop on the couch and turn the camera so it faces me again. The screen adjusts so all four of our rectangles fill the screen. “The babies are okay?” I ask Jash.

He smiles. “Yes. I think Ravi’s doubled in size since you left. Chaaya says he was laughing the other day, but I think she’s lying.”

Our home life growing up was all a little different. My father was always very involved in my life as a kid and still is. Not in my daily routines of care or whatever, but we always spent a lot of time together.

Completely opposite, Anil and Alok’s father was entirely hands off. I think they only see him during morning and evening meals and their conversations feel clinical and rehearsed. It’s not uncommon but I don’t know that it’s incredibly common either.

Jash’s are somewhere in the middle. Not as present as mine, but not as absent as the brothers’.

I think he loved how my father was always around when he’d come over, so that’s the father he’s trying to be.

I love that. I’m not sure I want kids, but if I had them, I think that’s also the kind of father I’d want to be.

He also really loves his wife. Like he seriously adores her.

Thinks she’s the best thing in the world.

I’d really love to hate her since she’s the reason we broke up, but Jash is kind of right.

It’s hard to dislike her when she’s just so…

sweet. Genuinely kind. Before Pooja was born, we used to hang out there all the time and she was a lot of fun.

Really smart. An expert storyteller. She’d keep us enthralled in stories for ages.

Begrudgingly, I think Jash made the right decision. He’s living a very happy life. I’m not sure whether I was an experiment, but what I like to think is that we were learning about ourselves together. We took our rite-of-passage into adulthood together, which made everything more bearable.

In modern terms, I think Jash is probably pansexual.

I’ve literally never once heard him comment on someone’s gender and have heard him note a whole variety of people as attractive.

Since it’s not something that comes up in conversation, I’ve never asked.

I just admire his ability to always live his best, happiest, authentic self.

In a lot of ways, I strive to be like Jash. Which might be one of the driving forces behind me signing up to be a mail-order husband in the first place. I’m not going to find the kind of life he has there that my heart craves. But maybe somewhere else I can.

Maybe here with Julian I can. It doesn’t feel so out of reach these days.