Silly Bon (a Chasing New Dawn short story)
Over the past few months, I wrote a few (well, four) short stories, to have something to read at open mics and explore the tangents in Chasing New Dawn universe that wouldn’t fit in the novel. As with “ Sweet Bundle of Pretty,” I kept the sci-fi/superhero stuff on the sidelines and focused on the character stuff. And, if you’ve read “Sweet Bundle of Pretty,’ you will know that the narrator of this particular piece had a small cameo of sorts in the earlier story.
As someone who has seen my culture get mangled in fiction all sorts of ways, I did try to research to get Bengali cultural details right, particularly when it comes to family terms. Bengali have a pretty elaborate system of how family members are supposed to address each other, and I tried to stay true to that. And khichuri is something I found while researching Bengali comfort foot. But if any of this doesn’t ring true, please don’t hesitate to let me know. And, as always, comments and any kind of feedback are appreciated.
Silly Bon
My sister lived in one of those old used-to-be-industrial areas in Detroit. It would be one thing if it was one of the hip ones, with lots of bikes, coffee shops full of cute baristas and boutiques with loads of Insta-worthy outfits, but Raveena was too artsy for that. She liked her neighborhoods desolate. As I dragged my poor suitcase across the cracked pavement, under the rusting fire escapes, past not one, but four abandoned bars and way too many boarded-up windows, I kept looking around, hoping I wouldn't get jumped.
Honestly, the things I do for my sister…
But I made it, safe and sound, to a half-empty six-story mud-brown building that took up half of the block, and slammed the call button on the intercom.
“Who is it?” came Raveena’s annoyed voice.
So she wasn’t too depressed to answer the door. That seemed like a good sign.
“Who do you think, you silly chota bon?” I said.
“Supriya?” she sounded genuinely surprised. “What are you even… Did Ma put you up to it?”
“You’re kidding, right? She’s too busy boinking Professor what’s-his-face to care.”
And pretending her younger daughter isn’t bi.
“Didi, be nice,” Raveena protested, because she always gave our mom more slack than she deserved.
“You know it’s true,” I glanced around. “Anyway, are you gonna let me in or not?”
“Sure, sure, come on in,” Raveena sounded resigned, but not too put out. I could live with that.
As I made my way up on a too-large elevator, I tried to, like, mentally prepare myself. I mean, it’s not like it’s the first time poor bon got her heart broken - before Lily, there was that weird love triangle with that yummy Punjabi guy and his girlfriend, and the less is said about her and Corey, the better. And she always tried to keep her break-ups drama free. She even tried to forgive Corey after he completely freaking ghosted her. But Lily was really special. Bon wouldn’t try to introduce her to Ma if she wasn’t. I mean, Ma wrote her off as “may’s weird artist friend,” but Raveena tried.
At least now I don’t have to be nice to Lily anymore. I mean, I didn’t mind the tattoos and the piercings and the constantly changing hair dye - all that actually was kind of cool. I even liked that she was as tall as bon - there aren’t many girls or guys who can say that. But Lily was… I’m not going to say “psycho,” because my therapist says I need to get harmful words like that out my vocabulary, but the chick has actual, serious mental health issues. Like, she’s got that thing called body dysmorphia, which bon swears is a mental illness and not, like, pathetically low self-esteem. Lily is also “recovering bulimic,” whatever that means, she got depression she refuses to take meds for, and, oh yeah, there is that part where she tried killing herself a few times. Raveena has been so supportive, and the fact that Lily would dump someone like that just shows that she needs, like, serious help.
But none of that mattered now. My too sweet, too kind younger sister was hurting, and after all the times she was there for me, that was literally the least I could do.
But when Raveena opened the door, she her usual fashionable, put-together self. She wore in a nice, casual oufit, her eyes weren’t even a little puffy, and her long, silky hair was nice and combed. If my already skinny sister lost any weight, I couldn't tell.
“Did you come straight from the airport?” Raveena looked me over.
“Of course! Got on the first flight over,” I pushed past her, dumped my suitcase by her couch and tossed off my jacket. “You look… okay.”
I glanced over the area that served as her living room/kitchen. No dishes in the sink. No piles of clothing. No stacked delivery boxes. Even her floor wasn’t even a little messy.
“I’m fine,” Raveena put on a smile. “I appreciate you worrying about me and flying all the way out here, but I’m fine. Relationships end, and it sucks, but I’m not going to fall into pieces, I promise.”
And part of me wanted to leave it at that - I did the last time she got dumped - but I kept looking at the too-neat room and the plastered-on smile and I kept thinking of all the times Ma didn’t come back until the middle of the night, usually drunk, and how I’d just give up waiting and go to bed while my poor chota bon scrubbed the floors spotless.
“Oh, give me a freaking break! You are not ‘fine.’ You’re just doing what you always do when you’re upset - you clean up, you try to act like everything is normal and nothing bothers you. So come on, out with it.”
Now, I don’t always catch expressions and stuff like that - and when I do, I don’t always know what it means - but I never had trouble with Raveena. And I could tell that she was annoyed. Good. Better than all that fake put-together shiz.
“I’m not hiding anything. Not all of us fall into pieces every time you get dum…” she looked away. Squeezed her fists. Took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.’
“Don’t be sorry! If you’re mad at me, be mad at me. Tell me how much it sucks to listen to me whine whenever I get dumped! Tell me how many times you gave me some good advice, but I ignored it, because I thought that guy would be different! You’re getting sick of it, right!”
“Please don’t put words in my mouth,” she frowned. “It’s not like that at all. I’m happy to help. I’m your sister.”
“Exactly! You’re my sister, and you’re always there for me when everything goes to crap, but when you need me, I flake.” I didn’t miss a tiny nod of her head. “You call me didi, but I’ve been a crappy older sister. And I know me being here doesn’t make up for that, but I want to try, okay?”
Raveena looked up, her eyes more confused than anything.
“Where the heck did that come from?” she asked.
“Therapy,” I smiled a tiny, sad smile, “And yeah, I know what I said about therapy, but I was wrong and you were right, and I’m not afraid to admit it. And I’ve just kind of been looking back and it’s like - wow - I’ve been selfish. I just let my little sister take care of everything. You shouldn’t have been the one who makes sure Ma pays all the bills. You shouldn’t have been the one applying for benefits, and making sure Ma got all the stuff for her green card.”
Raveena’s face was a carefully neutral mask, the same one she used when the landlord came knocking on our door demanding rent and Ma hid in the bathroom.
“I mean, I know you’re way smarter than me, so I don’t know how much I could’ve helped,” I threw up my hands.”But I didn’t even try, because it was much easier to let someone else handle it, and that was so selfish. I was selfish.”
Raveena still kept on the mask, but there was something in her eyes.
“I know you used to cry at night,” my voice shook, “when you thought everyone was sleeping. But I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing, like a coward, and I’m so, so sorry.”
Her expression was still guarded, but I saw some warmth in bon’s eyes.
“Didi,” Raveena’s voice was gentle, “you have nothing to be sorry for. You were a kid, too, and Ma wasn’t exactly a good role model. You didn't know any better.”
And, for weak, stupid moment, that was enough. Bon forgave me. But then I saw the jacket that I just kind of tossed, the luggage I left by the couch, like I owned the place, and I wanted to slap myself.
“Don’t,” it came out rawer than I wanted. “Don’t comfort me. I’m supposed to comfort you. Dang it, I’m trying to be here for you, but I barged into your place and I made it all about me, like I always do. Well, this stops now. I am going to shut up and I am going to listen. You can say anything you want. Or don’t. Or tell me to leave. I’ll leave. I just can’t stand you trying to make everybody feel better and crying on your own. And… I’m still talking, and I’m sorry, just please… Talk to me. I’ll listen. I swear.”
I stood there, watching Raveena not looking at me, and I braced for her to do what she always did - take a few deep breaths and tell me that everything was okay, and she was fine, and she was sorry she made me feel bad. But then, she turned toward me and said, quietly.
“Lily didn’t dump me, I broke up with her.”
“Wait, seriously? But you guys were…” and I clenched my mouth shut as Raveena continued.
“I tried, didi. I tried to be there for her. She said she wanted to get better, but she’d forget to take her meds and missed her therapy appointments, and she kept apologizing, but she kept doing it and get upset with me… I kept hoping that if I help her, she’ll get better, even though I knew that’s not how it works. You can’t carry someone across the finish line. They have to want to get better, not because they think they should, but because they really want to. And Lily didn’t want it, and she just kept getting worse and worse and worse and… “
“Chota bon…”
Tears flowed from Raveena’s eyes, unbidden, and I did what I was too afraid to do so many times before - I went over and wrapped her in a hug. For a moment, she stood here, startled, but then, she hugged me back.
“I am so tired, didi,” she said, her voice shaking. “I’m so tired of trying to drag her to get help kicking and screaming. I’m so tired of always worrying if she’s going to kill herself. I tried to handle it, but I can’t. Does that make me selfish?”
I wasn’t sure what to do except to reach up and stroke her hair. All this time, she’s been dealing with this, all on her own...
“No, chota bon,” I pulled her closer. “You’re not.”
“You know…When we… When I...,” she managed to get out between sobs. “She begged me to stay… Said she’ll do anything… That she’ll get… That she’ll get help…”
Oh, that manipulative b-word.
“I can’t trust her…. She promised it before and I… I can’t…’
I’m going to kill her.
“And then… She said that she hated me…. Said I was a liar… And a selfish cu… She said she didn’t need me...”
I’m going to kill her and set all of her crappy art on fire.
“She said she wished I was dead.”
“Oh, fuck that bitch!” the words were out of my mouth and… You know what - No. I don’t regret a damn thing.
Raveena pulled away and looked at me, startled.
“I mean it! You said it yourself - you can’t fix her! She has to fix herself! And she shouldn’t treat you like that. I mean, I get that she’s mad, but you’ve done so much for her, and you don’t deserve any of this, okay? You don’t. You are way too caring, way too kind, and I’m sure you gave her every freaking chance. And if Lily can’t appreciate it, then you know what - it’s a good thing you dumped her. Because you deserve so much better than this! And you’re going to find someone better than this. I mean, you got, like, twice as many options as most people.”
At that, Raveena teared up all over again.
“But…I miss her!”
Now, I may not know much about loving a woman, or loving someone with mental illness, but this I could definitely relate to.
“Oh, you poor chota bon, come here!” I reached over and hugged her even tighter.
And I held Raveena as she cried her heart out. I wasn’t sure what to do, and I was afraid to say anything that might upset her even more, so I just held her. After a while, the sobs subsided, and still held her, because I was afraid to let her go.
Then, we spent what seemed like forever just sitting on the couch. Raveena told me things that made me want to hug her and punch Lily even more. We watched whatever stupid reruns we could catch on TV. And, at some point, bon drifted off to sleep.
After I made sure she nice and cozy under a blanket, I went through Raveena’s entire loft and put all the pictures of her and Lily in a box. Then, I picked up all the clothes and boots that were clearly too big for bon and tossed them in a plastic bag. I was so tempted to just throw Lily’s crap in the garbage, but I knew my sister wouldn’t approve, so I left the bag alone.
And then, I went to the kitchen.
By the time Raveena woke up, I was by the stove, glancing at my phone while keeping an eye on the pressure cooker.
“Hey, didi, sorry I fell asleep… Is that khichuri?”
“You bet your sleepy head it’s khichuri! You didn’t make it easy, let me tell you. I found rice and veggies, but you barely had any beans and I’m so glad I brought spices. Should be ready in a few minutes,” I looked up from my phone and saw bon smile a strange, content smile. “What?”
“Just thinking about all the times Ma was out late and I’d get so sick with worry I couldn’t do anything,” she said. “And you’d be like ‘Okay, I don’t know about you, but I’m like, so hungry. Wanna help me make khichuri?’ And I’ll grab all the ingredients out of the pantry, and we’d mix it together, and it was even better than Ma’s.”
“Oh, I don’t know if it was better…” Because, say what you will about our mother, but she knows her Bengali cooking.
“It was,” Raveena said. “Just eating it made me feel better. Reminded me that our family isn’t completely screwed up.”
“I…’ I felt a lump in my throat. “That was, like, a bare minimum. I could have done more.”
“It still mattered,” she reached over and gave me a sideways hug. “I love you, didi. You know that, right?”
And I admit that caught me completely off guard, because that’s not something we say in our family. Ma almost never did. At first, I wasn’t sure what to say, but then I mentally slapped myself, because there was only one thing to say.
“Of course, you silly chota bon. I love you too.”
2019 © Strannik01