Dev Dreams, Volume One by Ruth Madison Page B

Juice?”
    “Shut-up, Jake.”
    “Make me.”
    “I love you.”
    “What?” Jake dropped his hold on her and she
crossed her arms in front of her body.
    “I'm sorry,” she said, “I didn't mean for it
to come out like that. It's just. That's my thing. That's what I
promised I would do. Tell you. When I first moved here I knew you
wouldn't ever even look at me. But now we've been kind-of friends
and I really value that. But you'll be going off to college and I
don't even know what I'll be doing and I just wanted to tell you
before I missed my chance. And if Alex and Paul are brave enough to
do what they just did, then I have to be brave enough to tell you I
love you.”
    “I don't know what to say,” Jake said.
    “It's okay, you don't have to say anything. I
just had to say it. So that's all of us. We all did what we
promised to do. Do you think we'll be happy?”
    “I'll tell you what would make me happy right
now.”
    “What's that?”
    He stepped toward her again and kissed
her.
    “Oh Jake, your reputation”
    Jake laughed. “What's left of it can go for
all I care. I'll let you in on a secret, being popular isn't really
worth it.”
     
     
    The Guru's Blessing
     
    Sumitra knew what her parents were going to
ask the guru. She was turning twenty-nine in two month's time and
they were beyond desperate to get her married. She went along to
try to be a good daughter, but in her heart she knew she could
never be happy with the men her parents found and finding one on
her own was close to impossible. There was one very specific thing
she needed in a man and she could never tell anyone about it.
    She sat in between her parents on the hard
tile floor of the ashram waiting for the guru to arrive. She had to
admit it was a beautiful building. Two large open doorways and
paneless windows across the length of the walls allowed the mild
Indian breeze in and Sumitra could see a cluster of coconut trees
that instantly made her feel like she was on vacation. There were
no coconut trees at home in New York.
    The guru's seat was gold, carved to look like
the sun. Beside it were tall, black marble mutris of gods. There
were about fifty other people sitting cross legged around the
floor. They all seemed to be authentic Indians, unlike Sumitra. She
was what people back home called a coconut: brown on the outside
and white on the inside. She could fake Indian for a little while,
but her American roots quickly showed. Her mother had to dress her
to come here today. Sumitra didn't have a clue how to put on a sari
and no other dress was allowed. Her pudgy old dad was even wearing
a full-on dhoti.
    People seemed really sincere. Several were
prostrating themselves in front of the murtis. Most had trays in
front of them ladened with fruit and flowers to offer the guru, in
return for his blessings, of course. Sumitra's mother had already
been eyeing the other trays to make sure that theirs was the most
impressive.
    The guru arrived and took his seat. He was a
heavy older man in an orange robe and he had a kind face, like how
Sumitra imagined Santa Claus. He had three white lines painted
across his forehead. Now that the guru was here, Sumitra's parents
were getting excited. Her dad elbowed her and grinned. He had been
here two years before and had been talking ever since about
bringing the whole family. He said the guru's grace had caused
amazing changes in his life, which seemed to be mostly to do with
less ulcer pain.
    Their family got in line. Her dad carried the
tray of offerings on his shoulder as they slowly moved forward.
Near the front Sumitra could hear the devotees begging the guru for
things. They were all speaking Indian languages: Hindi, Kanada,
Tamil. But the melody of the voices still gave away the pleading.
In every language that quality remained the same.
    The heat was beginning to bother Sumitra. She
wanted to sit down and thought if she wasn't able to soon, she
might faint. It made her wonder why she had agreed to this