by Bera, Ilia
The girl smiled. Her smile was enough to turn any man into a drooling dog. “How can you not be?” she asked.
Tarun stared into the girl’s eyes—quickly getting lost in her mysterious splendour.
“Tarun Mumbar?” a chubby man, dressed in a black dress shirt said as he stood in the doorway to the meeting room.
The girl released Tarun’s hands. “Just relax, Tarun,” she said.
“How—How did you know my name?”
“He just said it out loud,” the girl said.
Tarun laughed at his own expense. “Right—I’m an idiot.”
“No you aren’t. Good luck.”
Tarun smiled and followed the man into his office.
“My name is Richard Friesen. I’m the head of admissions here at SBU.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Friesen.”
“I understand that you’re looking to study at our little school here.”
“That’s right, sir.”
“SBU might be small, but you’d be surprised to know that we maintain one of the highest GPA’s in the country. We hold a rigid admission standard, and we have one of the highest employment rates upon graduation.”
“Yes—I know, sir. I’ve done quite a bit of research on the school. I’m very excited to be considered.”
Richard Friesen looked down at a copy of Tarun’s transcript. “Your grades are very good.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s difficult to get grades like this in British schools. You should be very proud.”
“Oh—I didn’t go to a British school, sir.”
“Are you not British?”
“No, sir.”
“Oh, excuse me. Your accent must have fooled me. Australian?”
“Indian, sir.”
Richard went silent for a moment.
“The province I was raised in was predominantly English. Most of the British people there stayed after India’s independence.”
“Oh—So your first language is English?”
“Yes… Well, no—its Hindi, but I can speak English fluently.” Tarun laughed. “You might even say that I can speak English better than most English speakers.”
Richard subtly rolled his eyes. “Right…” he said.
Tarun was suddenly struck with a sense of nervousness. “I hope that’s not an issue?”
“Well—I don’t know how they do things over in India, but here in Canada, we have certain requirements—English equivalence requirement.”
“Like I said, I’m totally fluent in English. I might even know it better than Hindi. I mean—you yourself thought I was literally English.”
“Also,” Richard continued, ignoring Tarun. “There is a list of countries with respectable education systems—Education systems that we recognize as equivalent or near enough to our own. It’s easier for us to look at a foreign transcript and decide if someone meets our qualifications.”
“Most of India has a very strong education system.”
“Most.”
“Well—The province I’m from has very good schools. A lot of respected scientists and researchers came out of my province.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Mumbar, that’s irrelevant, as India isn’t on the aforementioned list of countries.”
“O—Okay,” Tarun said.
“These grades—on this transcript, mean nothing to me. There could be nothing but a’s on here, and it wouldn’t make a difference.”
“There are nothing but a’s…”
“Like I said—It doesn’t make a difference. They might as well be j’s or Hindi scribbles or Batman symbols.”
“But certainly they mean something—surely there is someone you can contact who can explain the course differences, or something.”
“It doesn’t work like that, Mr. Mumbar. That’s not to say that you cannot go to SBU though.”
“Okay,” Tarun said, clinging on to the little bit of hope that was being offered.
“We have other programs here—High school upgrading courses.”
“You—You want me to retake high school?”
“You wouldn’t have to retake all of it. Just the courses that are requirements for the major you are hoping to study. What major are you hoping to pursue?”
“Astrophysics.”
“In which case, you would need to retake your twelfth grade Physics, Biology, Chemistry, Math, Calculus and English.”
Tarun’s head was spinning at the concept of redoing six courses that he’d already completed. But Tarun was smart—and he knew it. He knew that the work would be a breeze. But the thought of pushing his dreams back another year or two was discouraging.
“How do I sign up?” Tarun asked.
“I can give you all of the forms that you need. The next round of classes won’t start until the spring, so I recommend you try to ‘improve’ your other university qualifications in that time.”
“Improve my other qualifications? What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s difficult to say, in your position.”
“Why?”
“How can I put this? SBU likes well-rounded students. We like students with musical talent, or entrepreneurial skills. We like students who volunteer and contribute to the community.”
“Okay—Sure. I used to play soccer—maybe I can find a soccer club here. And I will look into volunteering opportunities around town.”
Richard laughed. “You won’t find any soccer around here, Mr. Mumbar. I’m afraid you’ll be lucky to find anything that isn’t hockey.”
“Oh. Well I can look into that. Maybe I’ll be good at it,” Tarun eagerly suggested.
“But also—more than anything, we like a good, hard-working Canadian student. Someone with that—Passionate Canadian spirit.”
Tarun stared at the administrator for a moment, processing what he was saying. “Sir—I am Canadian,” Tarun said. “I have my Landing Papers right here.”
“Right—I’m sure that you are.”
“I am,” Tarun said, getting defensive.
“Right.”
Tarun’s frustration was starting to get the better of him. He was on the verge of having a mental breakdown from all of the “less than subtle” ignorance. Tarun studied all of the Canadian immigration tests for months, and he made a point of learning all of the Canadian societal norms. He called Canada his home, and respected the country; it’s beauty, and all of its opportunities more than most “Good, hard-working Canadians”.
“Take home these course applications and bring them in before the New Year. Or even better, fill them out today, and if there’s an opening in one of the classes, maybe you can get started early. If you do well in all of these classes, you just might have a shot at SBU.”
The word “might” stung.
Tarun took the papers and stood up, without responding. There was no sense in arguing—it wouldn’t get him anywhere. All he could do was ace the classes and hope that they accepted him.
“Have a nice day, Mr. Mumbar.”
“Thanks,” Tarun said as he walked out of the office.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
ALWAYS KEEP YOUR HEAD UP
Tarun walked over to the little waiting area, where the cute little blonde was still sitting and waiting. He sat down and placed the forms on his lap. He read over them.
“You shouldn’t let him talk to you like that,” the pretty girl said.
“What?” Tarun asked.
“The way he talked to you—that was rude. He’s a racist slime ball.”
“Oh—I don’t think he was trying to be racist. He meant well.”
The girl smiled.
“How—How did you know what he was saying in there?” Tarun asked.
“I don’t know—the walls here are really thin, I suppose.”
“Oh. Weird.”
“One day, when you’ve discovered the next theory of relativity, you can rub it in his fat ignorant face.”
Tarun laughed. “Thank you,” he said genuinely.
“But it’s just the time and the way that he was raised. It’s not his fault. One day this won’t be an issue.”
Tarun looked over at the silent girl. She was smiling at him, with her beautiful smile. “I just wish sometimes that the world was filled with more people like you. I admire your strength—I really do. You’re very humble and very courageous.”
Tarun blushed. “I’m afraid I’m not the best at taking a compliment.”
“And you’re modest,” the girl finished.
“Sometimes when life deals you certain cards, you have no choice but to keep your head up.”
“Well, make me proud and always keep your head up, okay?”
Tarun’s entire coy face was red with embarrassment. It wasn’t every day that a beautiful woman showered him with compliments. The girl looked into his eyes as she smiled, admiring Tarun’s humble traits.
“Megan Gold?” Richard Friesen said, as he walked back out of his slimy den of ignorance.
“That’s me,” Megan said to Tarun. “It was nice meeting you.”
“Likewise,” Tarun said as he watched the beautiful blonde enter into the administration office.
“I’ll see you around, Tarun Mumbar!” Megan called out with a smile on her face.
Tarun smiled at the beauty. “Wow,” Tarun muttered to himself, still in shock that someone so beautiful could be so nice and respectable.
He finished filling out the course applications, writing “As soon as possible” into each of the start dates. Tarun was smart enough that he could balance all of the classes at once, if need be—He had, after all, finished them all with flying colours before.
He hurried home to help his father with his ambitious and slightly illegal renovations. When Tarun returned to his house, Vish was drenched in water.
“Dad! What happened?” Tarun asked in his native Hindi tongue.
“The manual said to turn off the water and give it two hours to drain before changing the main stack. I saved two hours.”
“You’re going to kill yourself, you know that—right?”
“A wise man once said that you can live a lifetime in a minute. I just bought myself one-hundred and twenty lifetimes.”
“Did the same wise man say to rip piping out above your head that could be filled with boiling water?”
“Why would it be boiling? I’m not running heat to anything.”
“We have a tenant, dad! He could have been taking a shower or doing the dishes.”
“Oh, right.”
Tarun walked into his suite to grab a towel for his father.
“So are you official an SBU student?” Vish asked.
Tarun handed his father the towel. “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“They need me to finish a few courses first.”
“A few courses? But you’ve finished every course there is to finish.”
“It’s complicated.”
“So they said no?”
“Yeah—For now.”
Vish stared at his son for a moment. “So why do you look so happy?”
“Huh?”
“You’re grinning like Charlie Sheen in a whore house,” Vish said.
“Do you even know what you just said?” Tarun asked, laughing.
“Yes,” Vish said sternly. “I watch TMZ.”
“Since when?”
“In The West it’s important to stay up to date with the celebrities—Very important.”
“Right…”
“Do you know who Jennifer Aniston is currently dating?”
“No, dad. I don’t.”
“You need to know these things here, son.”
Tarun tried his best to hold back his laughter.
“Did you know that George Clooney is getting a divorce? That didn’t last long, did it?” Vish said in a shockingly serious tone.
Tarun burst into laughter.
“What?” Vish said, confused. “I’m just trying to embrace the culture.”
“You’re doing a great job, dad. Really—you are.”
“Come help me move the hot water heater,” Vish said, ignoring his laughing son.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
A BURNING REMINDER
Hanna’s eyes slowly opened up. As her waking vision unblurred, she realized that she wasn’t in her own bed. Startled, she swiftly looked around the room. It was filled with hockey memorabilia, men’s clothes and schoolbooks. The room was messy and disorganized.
Then, Hanna noticed the heavy muscular arm that was resting on top of her small light body. Connor was asleep behind her, cuddling her with his warm body. Quickly, the memory of the previous night came rushing back to her, and she relaxed. She had thought everything had been a dream.
Careful not to wake Connor up, Hanna nudged her body back, snuggling deeper into Connor’s comfortable warmth. The sleeping hockey player adjusted his body, pulling Hanna in tightly to his body, like a child nuzzling a teddy bear. Hanna smiled and let herself relax into Connor’s body.
A dark curtain, blocking most of the sunlight from entering the room covered the lone window. Only a sliver of light crept into the room from the gap between the curtain and the wall.
Hanna didn’t want the moment to end. Never in her life had she felt so safe, comfortable and happy. For once, she didn’t care about all of the hardships of her past. She couldn’t care less about the mean things people called her.
Connor suddenly yawned and stretched out his arms. He propped himself up onto his elbow and looked down at Hanna through his sleepy eyes.
“Hey,” he said, with a smile on his tired face.
Hanna smiled back. “Hi.”
“How’d you sleep?”
“Great.”
“Good—Me too.” Connor ran his fingers gently down the side of Hanna’s face, ensuring that she was real, and not some fever dream. “I’m happy,” he said.
“Why?”
“I just am—It’s hard to believe you’re here with me.”
Hanna smiled. “Why?”
“I’m just not used to getting the things I want.”
“I’m happy too,” Hanna said.
Connor smiled as he leaned in for a kiss. The couple’s lips gently pressed together as Connor’s hand slipped around the back of Hanna’s head. “You’re so beautiful,” he said.
Hanna blushed.
“Really—It’s hard to think that someone can be so beautiful.”
“Now you’re just being sarcastic.”
“No, I’m not. It’s what I really believe.”
They kissed again. Suddenly, Connor rolled his muscular naked body over Hanna playfully. Hanna let out a little scream in surprise, which tapered off into playful laughter.
“Now that I have you, I’m not letting you go!” Connor said, hugging Hanna tightly with his arms.
Hanna squirmed, trying to free herself from the horseplay. “Let me go!” she said, laughing as she played along.
“Never!”
The naked couple wrestled for a moment. Then, Connor went in for another kiss—a much more passionate one than its predecessors. The kiss filled Hanna’s heart with warm joy. She slowly reached her hands around Connor’s muscular body—her fingers sliding across his thick muscles.
Then, Connor pulled his head back. “What time is it?” he asked.
Hanna looked around the room for something with the time. Connor reached over onto his nightstand and checked his phone. “Shit—I should probably get going.”
“Do you have to?” Hanna asked.
“Unfortunately.”
Connor gave Hanna a little peck on the forehead as he rolled off of the bed. Hanna admired his naked physique for the remaining moments before he got dressed.
“You should come with me. I’ve got about enough time to stop for a coffee on the way. I’ll buy you one.”
“Um,” Hanna said as she looked towards the window. The sun was up and at its highest point in the sky. “I think that I’ll just stay in bed for
a few more hours, if that’s okay. I’m pretty tired.”
Connor walked over to the window. Without any warning, he grabbed the curtains and pulled them open, letting the room fill up with deadly sunlight.
Hanna screamed as the burning hot light singed her naked skin. She quickly rolled off of the bed, away from the sunlight.
Her skin was red where it made contact with the sun. Even with as little as a single second of exposure, it burned as if she was sprayed with hot oil. Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried to fight back the pain.
“Hanna?” Connor yelled with concerned. “What’s wrong?”
He ran around the bed to the pained girl. Hanna quickly wiped away her tears and hid her burns with the bed’s blanket.
“Are you okay? What is it?” Connor asked.
“I—I thought I saw a mouse,” she lied.
Connor concern quickly dissipated as he began to laugh. “That’s the sound you make when you see a mouse? I thought you’d been shot by a sniper or something!”
Hanna forced a laugh through her excruciating pain.
Connor held out his hand. “Let me help you up.”
The curtains were still open, and the room was as bright as the brightest day. Hanna was hidden in the only shadow in the room.
“Come on,” Connor said.
“I—I think I just need a minute,” Hanna said.
“You really don’t like mice,” Connor said.
“I’m sorry—I hope you don’t think I’m insane.”
“Of course not. Everyone has their quirks.”
Hanna smiled. The pain was finally starting to subside.
“I should probably get going. I’ll see you at school okay?”
“Okay,” Hanna said.
“I’m going to lock the front door. When you take off, just use the backdoor.”
Hanna smiled as Connor took off for work, leaving the curtain wide open. Hanna was trapped. There was no way that she could make it to the door on the other side of the room without serious burns, and going to the window to close the blinds was also out of the question. Also, the house was loaded with uncovered windows, so even if she did make it past the bedroom, she wouldn’t have anywhere she could go.
Instead, she would have to wait three or four hours for the sun to set.
Tears began to swell up in Hanna’s eyes again, but not because of any pain. This time, she was crying because reality was setting in—she was going to have to tell Connor her secret. Either that, or break it off with him. The thought of both options stung deep.
