by Cora Jay
Did she? She supposed she did, because that the situation was when people chose to move in together and adopt a dog together. She had to have loved Aaron at some point. Maybe he was right. Maybe she hadn’t loved him enough. But what could she do about it now?
He rolled his eyes. “If you really loved me, you could have let me keep Bella,” he said.
“You didn’t even want Bella,” said Ellie in disbelief. Now it was her turn to be incredulous.
“I love that dog, Ellie. I guess you just couldn’t see it. You were so wrapped up in your work.” He frowned and reached for Bella again. The poor dog was just sitting there, quivering, wondering what the tension was about.
“I mean, did you love me when we moved in together? Did you love me when we got Bella? Did you love me when I thought about moving to New York?” He was looking daggers at Ellie now, eyes glowing with deeply buried rage.
“Of course I did,” said Ellie. “Of course.”
“Then what’s changed?”
Ellie was normally a mild-mannered person, but Aaron’s manipulation was too much for her. It was just a taste of what he’d put her through during their relationship, and now that she’d met the kind, respectful Harika, she decided enough was enough.
“We’re not fucking together, that’s what’s changed,” she said, voice heated. She barely recognized the sound of it.
“Have you considered that I still love you?” he asked, eyes now becoming pathetic and wide, face softening.
“Well, you didn’t even talk to me for nearly a year, and I really like the girl I’m dating now, so I don’t know what your point is.” She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. She was done with his shit.
“I was hurting, Ellie,” he said, voice gentle. “You hurt me. I hurt myself. I needed to leave and spend some time on myself.”
He did have to spend some time on himself, but the time for that was now, in the company of a competent therapist. He clearly hadn’t learned anything good about how to treat people while he was away.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” said Ellie, “but I’m happy with where I am right now and I don’t know why we’re rehashing old issues.”
He rolled her eyes again. “I can see you don’t understand.”
“Maybe I don’t,” said Ellie, glad she’d finished up her chai. “Maybe it’s for the best that we stop seeing each other.”
His eyes grew wide. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She didn’t like making Aaron angry because it was just such an uncomfortable experience for everyone involved. But it wasn’t like there was anything else she could do about it. If she just kept placating him, he’d keep manipulating her.
And Ellie had Harika to think about.
“Fine,” he said. “Fine.”
She breathed a sigh of relief, but it was too soon.
“I want Bella, though. I’m going to get her. She’s my dog; my name is on the adoption application and everything. If you don’t want to be friends, then I don’t care. But I want my dog back.”
Ellie quickly stood up and scooped up Bella, knowing now that she could carry with her ease when she needed to. And right now, she really needed to.
“She’s not your dog,” said Ellie. “You forfeited that when you moved to New York and abandoned her for all that time.”
Aaron was left seething, but he had no more words, which was fine by Ellie. She did not want to hear what else he had to say. “Thanks for the chai,” she said, then walked to the door and let herself out. She glanced back once, only to see him still glaring.
She shuddered as she walked out onto the sidewalk and didn’t quite relax until she was further down the street and back in Harika’s neighborhood.
“I won’t let him take you from me, honey,” she said to Bella. The dog looked up at her balefully. “I promise I won’t.”
26
Harika
Harika’s mother had called to ask if she wanted to come over for dinner. It was an hour’s drive to the next county over, where she lived in a town called Stapleton. Because of how busy Harika was with the clinic, she didn’t get to see her that often, but she made trips over frequently, because her mother didn’t know how to drive. And she got lonely, because her father worked long hours.
She parked her car outside the house she’d grown up in. The sense of nostalgia that came over her when she was here was almost oppressive, and always made her slightly uncomfortable. She remembered trying to hide her gayness, which she’d discovered at an early age, from her parents, surreptitiously searching for lesbian porn on her computer with a healthy dose of guilt, and wondering why she didn’t know any Pakistani relatives who were queer.
It was a tough time.
But there were good memories too, sprinkled in. There was something comforting about this place, even if it comprised so much of her formative years that the scope of how influential it was was overwhelming. She’d been shaped as a person here, and it was strange to step into its halls again.
She knocked on the door, but barely a fraction of a second later her mother opened the door, pulling her in for a hug. “Harika! Harika, I’m glad you came,” she said, burying her face in her shoulder and taking a deep breath.
The ‘mom inhale,’ she’d come to think of it as. She’d noticed it happening to other people as well. It was cute.
“Same to you, Ma. Is that some good old-fashioned chicken curry I smell cooking?” Harika followed her inside, glancing around to see if anything had changed.
It hadn’t. That wasn’t surprising. The same décor on the walls from when they’d visited the countries of Harika’s heritage, the same furniture, even, the same smell. It was nice to be back, but every time Harika came here, she felt even bigger in the small space, almost like she was growing even as an adult.
She went into the kitchen, where her mother was stirring something in an enormous skillet. “That it is,” she said.
Harika made a big show of wafting some of the scent over, taking a deep breath. “Top notch, as usual.”
“You haven’t even tasted it.”
“I don’t need to.”
She turned toward Harika and beamed.
“It just needs to sit for a few more minutes, then we can eat. Your dad will be home in a couple hours. Would you like tea?” she asked.
“Of course.”
She started the electric kettle and set out two mugs with tea bags. “So, I actually invited you here because I have big news,” she said, a smile covering her face. She had a certain glint in her eyes, and Harika wasn’t sure she liked seeing it there.
“Yes?”
“We found a nice boy for you—”
“Mom, what? You didn’t even have an arranged marriage! You just moved here and married Dad!” Harika was incredulous. This was the last thing she was expecting.
“But if you aren’t meeting men on your own, you could use a little help,” she said, pursing her lips. “You’ll really like this guy. She’s like a lot of your friends. Has a cool, creative job, likes to go to bars, is pretty athletic…”
“But… I’m not interested in men, and that’s not going to change just because you’ve found one for me,” Harika said, reluctant to have this conversation all over again. She’d come here to have a good time, not to rehash the same old arguments. Her mother knew very well Harika wasn’t going to budge, so she’d decide to strongarm her with this arrangement.
“You can’t even meet him? I’ve already spoken with him and his mother,” said her mother, taking the tea bags out and pouring milk and sugar into the mugs. She carried them out to the living room and Harika followed, sitting on the couch opposite her.
“No, I can’t meet him! If I meet him, I’ll tell him first thing that I’m gay. He’ll understand, and then he won’t want to marry me. I am not going through with this. It’s just… it’s just preposterous!” Harika sputtered, still amazed that her mother would have the audacity to try to pull this off. Where was her dad in all of this?
She should have put an end to it as soon as it had started.
Her mother realized that she’d been foiled. No guy would marry Harika if she blabbed about how gay she was, and her mother knew it. There was nothing she could do, not as long as Harika was someone who stood up for herself. She’d heard of people who didn’t, who ended up in marriages they didn’t want to be in.
She was not going to be one of those people. It wouldn’t be fair to her, or to the poor guy who would be saddled with her.
“Harika…” her mother started, looking away. She blew on her tea to cool it down, and Harika peered at her, sure that she saw an unhappy sparkle in her eyes. Was she… crying?
“Ma, I have had it! You cannot manipulate me with your tears. I’m honestly going to leave if we’re going to keep talking about this,” she said, her anger growing. How dare she shed tears in a vain attempt to make her do what she wanted?
“Harika—” Her voice broke. “That’s… that’s not why I’m having trouble with this. It’s just…”
Now Harika’s heart softened and her interest was piqued. There was something hidden underneath all this. She’d figured that might be the case, but as long as her mother was unwilling to budge, she hadn’t had an opportunity to dig deeper.
“Yes?”
“It’s just so hard to be gay,” she blurted, taking an edge of her blouse to wipe her eyes, eyeliner smudging. “I don’t want you to be gay.”
There. That was it. Harika gently prodded her. “What do you mean, Ma?”
“I—I look at the n-news,” she said, fighting back her sniffling, “and I s-see how hard it is. How gay people just won the fight to get married. How they still get k-killed…”
Harika sighed and set down her chai, going to sit closer to her mother on the couch. She put an arm around her and she leaned into it. Harika could see her face more closely now. She was weary. It was the same weariness Harika carried, but she’d gotten used to it, ever since she grew up a little and realized how the world worked. It was a burden her mother was newly taking on, and she was fighting it, because she knew what it meant.
“Ma,” she said gently, squeezing her shoulders. “It is hard. But that doesn’t mean that I can change who I am, anymore than you can. And it doesn’t mean I should hide behind a life of lies. I have to be who I am. I’m not going to let anyone make me afraid to live my life.”
She was silent for a moment, sniffling. Harika cast about for a tissue and handed one to her, and she dabbed at her eyes delicately.
“And people here in Redwood County are very accepting. I see young gay couples all the time. We’re so close to San Francisco, and you know how accepting people are there…”
Harika continued holding her as the last of her sobs were squeezed out and she regained her composure. She looked back at Harika with hard eyes, and she had no idea what she was going to say next.
She sighed. “You know what it’s like for your cousins in Pakistan?”
“Yeah, I do. But I’m not in Pakistan,” said Harika, trying a tentative smile.
“I’m glad. I could not live in Pakistan myself, after being here for so long.” She looked away again, and Harika wondered what she was thinking. She looked at her closely, noticing the white hairs interspersed in their thick, black locks. Her face had some wrinkles, but her smooth skin made her look a decade younger. She took good care of herself.
“I just… I don’t know…” she started. “I don’t know how to calm myself, thinking you might go out holding hands with another woman, and then, and then—”
Harika sighed. It was something that worried her too. But like any other persecuted minority, she lived with the fear, buried it. She was grateful she lived in such an accepting place, but she knew that the rest of the country wasn’t quite like Redwood County.
“It is scary,” Harika said. “But it’s the reality of my life. I cannot avoid doing what I want to do just because of the risks. There are risks in all aspects of life, but this is tied to my very self. I can’t hide it.”
“How do you live with it?” she asked, look at Harika with a stricken expression.
She shrugged. “I got used to it. It’s just something you get used to. I mean, aren’t you worried that someone will harm you for being Muslim?”
Harika had her there. They’d discussed it quite a lot in recent years. Though her mother didn’t wear a hijab, and so was more likely to be mistaken for something else, Harika knew she still worried.
“You’re right,” she said. “That’s exactly what it’s like, isn’t it?”
Despite the gloomy topic of conversation, Harika’s heart soared. “That’s it. That’s exactly it.”
“I suppose I can learn to live with that,” she said.
“We don’t have a choice, do we? Just like I don’t have a choice. I can’t choose to change the color of my skin or who I love.”
“Indeed.”
There was a silence as they both processed the emotions from the conversation. Harika knew she was going to have a lot to think about when she got back home. She’d had this argument dozens of times with her mother, ever since she’d started to date women, and now, it had all come to a head, revealing that it all stemmed from her worry. No wonder she was generally accepting of gay people, but not when it came to Harika. That had been confusing for a long time.
“Your chai is going to get cold,” said Harika.
Her mother let out a laugh and picked up her mug, sipping it. “It’s the perfect temperature now.”
Harika took a sip from her own mug. “That it is.”
27
Ellie
Ellie didn’t want to pick up the call from Aaron, but it was such a habit to pick up calls that she did it anyway, a deep unease pervading her veins.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” he said.
“So… What’s up?” she asked.
“I pulled up the adoption records for Bella and I’m getting her back,” said Aaron, in a horribly matter of fact tone of voice.
“What do you mean, pulled up the records,” said Ellie, her heart pounding. She was almost afraid he’d hear it pumping through the phone.
“I called the adoption agency and they sent me a copy. It says right here, Bella was adopted by me.”
“Really?” Ellie said weakly. Bella swarmed around her legs, whining. She could hear Aaron’s voice, she was sure, and was reacting to the tension between them.
“Yeah. When we adopted her, we put my name down on the adoption application. Since we weren’t a married couple,” he said, triumph starting to enter his voice. “So I’ll probably take these records down to the police, along with some of the vet bills from when we had her…”
“You still have those?”
“Yeah, found them in a closet.” He laughed. “I mean, you could just give her to me now, or we could do it the hard way.”
“No. I’m not just handing her over to you,” said Ellie.
“Okay then, your choice…”
“I thought you wanted to be friends, Aaron. I thought, when you moved back, that hey, it might be nice for us to reconnect. I don’t want this bullshit. I want you to be a part of my life, still, if that’s what you want. But if you’re going to pull this crap on me…” Ellie’s voice was quiet. That was how she knew she was seething with anger. That, and the storm roiling in her chest.
“Oh, we can be friends. I just think Bella should go to her rightful owner. She loves me, Ellie. And I know you love me, too.”
He wasn’t even really making sense anymore. She sighed. “Aaron, I’m going to hang up now. I don’t want to deal with this. Goodbye.”
She hung up. She didn’t like being rude, and hanging up on someone before they had a chance to speak was the height of rudeness, but she was tired of Aaron and she didn’t want to hear anything else he had to say.
Right now, her pulse was racing because he was an actual threat. If he went to the police with those solid records, then it was not going to end w
ell for her. Unfortunately, in the eyes of the law, Bella was property.
Harika would probably know what to do. Ellie grabbed her phone and called the vet, hoping she would pick up. Well, of course she would—it was business hours.
“Hello, this is Shalini at the Lane Estates Animal Clinic. How may I help you?”
“Hey, this is Ellie. Is Harika available?”
“She is. Please hold and I’ll go get her.”
A wave of relief washed over Ellie. Harika would know what to do—surely she’d dealt with cases like this before.
“Ellie! What’s up?”
“Harika! I’m glad you’re free… I have a bit of a… situation.”
“Can I help?”
Ellie suddenly realized this was going to take a lot of explaining, and she didn’t feel like doing it over the phone. All she needed now was reassurance and an action plan.
“So… Basically my ex wants to take Bella back and claims he can because of old vet records and the adoption form from the greyhound adoption agency.”
“I see,” said Harika. “Is Bella microchipped?”
“Er… No,” said Ellie, guilt rising in her.
“Let’s get her microchipped immediately, then. And we’ll print you her most recent vet records. I trust you had another vet you went to before coming to my clinic?”
Ellie was grateful for Harika’s businesslike tone—it showed she was really taking this seriously and clearly knew what she was doing. Calling the clinic had been the right choice.
“Yes. I’ll call and ask for records from them, too.”
“Between the most recent records and the microchip, you should be fine,” said Harika, “seeing as he pretty much abandoned Bella, but you might preemptively call the adoption agency and explain the situation. Were you involved in the adoption at all?”
“Yeah, we went there and got her together. They know both of us. It was just his name that went on the form because the dog could only belong to one person,” said Ellie.
