Avasa (Part II)

"Don't go."

"Avi, I have to go, I have a class in two hours, in which I have a quiz. And we have band practice this evening, so I have to study before that." I sit on the side of the bed, and pull on Avi's jeans. They are too baggy for my skinny frame and slide down so that the belt is just below my waistline. She stares at me, unable to hide her desire. She runs a finger down the center of my bare back. I can't help but let out a soft moan. Encouraged, she moves closer and nuzzles my neck from behind, allowing her hand to fondle my breasts from the front. "Avi!" I have to use every ounce of my willpower to get up off the bed.

She leans back in bed, and props herself up against a pillow to get a good look at me. "God, you look goo-ood in my jeans."

"I'm going to take a shower, slut."

"I'll join you, you stupid vanilla-dyke."

"No, that's okay. I don't have time, crackwhore."

"I can't believe this is our bedroom banter," she laughs.

"My 'good little indian girl' days are sooo behind me," I say, laughing.

She looks me up and down sensuously. Just her gaze sends tingles down my spine. "I'll make it a quickie."

"Avi!" I sigh. "Can you stop thinking about sex for five seconds?"

"Not when it's with you."

"Charmed." I roll my eyes. In a flash she's out of bed, pulling on her boxers and T-shirt. She winks at me. I know she's going to pounce on me -- literally -- any second. "Don't you dare, Avi!" I manage to yell, racing toward the bathroom.

She's lightening fast, of course, and has me up against the wall in two seconds. My mind turns to jelly, the way it always does when I'm in her arms. She's teasing me, her mouth hovering just millimeters above mine, nearly touching my lips, but not quite. I can feel her hot breath on my face. Better sense prevails apparently, and she backs off suddenly. "You have that quiz. I don't want to keep you from your work."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," I say reluctantly, kissing her cheek and going inside the bathroom. Then, with a wry smile, I add, "By the way, we can try name-calling next time."

******

"Why do you have to call yourself 'dyke'?" asks Saima. "Why can't you just be a nice li'l 'lesbian'?" We are having dinner together at the cafeteria.

"Gay, queer, dyke, whatever," I answer patiently. "It's all about reclaiming words meant to insult us. If I don't call myself a dyke, someone else will. This way, if anyone tells us, 'Step off it, lezzies', it's just like, 'Tell me something I don't know.' Get it?"

"I suppose," says Saima. "I just don't like the sound of the term."

"It's just semantics. It's no big deal."

"I guess."

"Saima?" I begin. "Can I make a small request?"

"Yeah."

"Why can't you try to like Avi?"

She obviously does not want to discuss this. "I won't lie to you...I don't really get your choice. She's kind of crude, and, well, she's got this masculine energy or something."

"Yeah, 'cos she's butch," I argue. "She's not comfortable with stereotyped femininity. What's wrong with that? Besides, I find her sexy."

"Look, I don't know," says Saima. "It's just a little personal for me, okay?"

"Personal?" I say.

"I support gay causes," says Saima. "I want gay rights, blah blah blah. But I never thought my *own* sister would be gay, and well, frankly, it's just weird for me. I guess on some level I'd hoped you would snap out of it, except your girlfriend pops into the picture, and now there's really no chance. And my life is permanently warped."

"*Your* life?" I say, seething at her outburst. "I'm only going to say this once. This is NOT about you. Okay? This is about *me*, and this is *my* life."

"Nadya, I'm sorry," she says instantly. "I just...can't stop worrying about what will happen if our parents figure this out."

"They won't! And you're going off on a tangent. None of this is Avi's fault, and you know it. All she's done is keep me sane this whole time."

There's an uneasy silence.

"Saima, what happened?" I ask sadly. "We used to be so close. We're in two different worlds now."

"Nadya, it's not metaphorical. We *are*, quite obviously, in two different worlds. We can't help that."

"We can try to understand each other, can't we?"

Saima draws in a deep breath. "Look, I can try to change the way I feel about Avi. But you need to give me some time to get used to all of this. It's a little overwhelming. I can't promise anything, but I can try."

******

Desi Insurrection just had their first mini-concert. Nothing big, just a small event in Nandini's garage. We only called our close friends and family members, and played covers, since we haven't got enough original music just yet. Now we're just mingling with the small crowd of about fifty people.

"You guys rock," gushes Gauri, one of my dormmates. "And Nadya, you're an awesome front-woman."

"I swear," adds Alka. "Who'd have thought someone as skinny as you had so much energy?" She was nice enough to come in spite of the big fight with Avi. If the lesbianism still bothers her, she's hiding it well.

"Thanks," I say, blushing. I'm still on a high from the adrenaline. The last hour and a half, I've been prancing around on stage, playing my guitar and singing like my life depended on it.

"Yeah, I definitely think this has potential," Saima chimes in. "But you need to do some more original stuff."

"I know, I know," I say. "We're working on it. I've got some lyrics down, and Avi's working on the chord progressions."

"Nadya!" Nandini runs over to me and gives me a big hug, pulling me aside. "I want you to meet someone. This is my boyfriend, Samir." A tall, shy-looking guy with floppy hair offers his hand to me. "Samir, say hello to the most wonderful desi dyke you'll ever meet."

"Hi, nice to meet you," I say, smiling warmly and shaking his hand. "Nandini's told us so much about you."

"Why don't you guys talk and I'll get us a couple of drinks?" says Nandini. "And where the heck is my favorite bass guitarist? Deb?" She walks away.

"You girls can *play*," says Samir. "It's great that there's a legit Indian girl band now. I mean, I know we have that pop band, Viva, but this is different. This is so..."

"D.I.Y.? Independent? Not prepackaged commercial bubblegum pop?"

He laughs. "When I met Nandini, I knew she had this self-reliant streak in her. It was the reason I fell for her. I never wanted a girl who treated her boyfriend like god. Most girls do that."

"I know," I say, laughing. I eye Nandini, who was now chasing Debbie around the drinks table with her drumsticks. "You really like her, don't you?"

"Yeah," he says. He obviously worships the ground she walks on. "I know she's the one." He looks back at me. "But it's complicated. I'm a Muslim, and she's a Hindu. Both our parents know we're going out, and they have serious, serious issues with it."

"We all have problems like that," I say. "No-one knows that better than me. But you can't let that stop you."

"Believe me, I don't intend to," he says. "We're going to fight it, no matter how hard it gets."

"Babe, why so serious?" Nandini returns with Debbie and drinks, slapping Samir on his behind. "Missing me already?"

"Yeah, honey," he jokes, putting an arm around her. "Tell you what, drummer girl. Why don't you get on top so we can take down the patriarchy tonight?"

"Okay, *that*, *that* is the most fucking mind-blowing pickup line you've used on me yet," says Nandini, laughing. "I don't wanna talk, I don't want to hear anything, let's go. Right now." Samir has his best "aw-shucks-tweren't-nothin'-ma'am" look on his face.

"Get a room, you guys!" says Debbie, giving them both a look. She turns to me. "By the way, I think you should save Mohan. It looks like Avi's going to make him cry."

My eyes wander over to where my girlfriend is talking to Mohan. I know she's been intentionally avoiding my sister and friends, and I don't blame her. She's in her sexy leather pants and sleeveless jacket, with her arm around Mohan, who does, in fact, look mortified. As I inch closer through the throng of partying people, I manage to hear her tell him, "So, my friend, in conclusion, what you really need, is a nice leather daddy."

Mohan looks like he's going to throw up.

"Avi, leave him alone!" I yell. "Stop messing with the heterosexuals!"

"What?" she says innocently, moving away from him. "I was only giving him some advice."

"Nadya," says Mohan painfully. "I think I'm gay!"

I sigh, and put an arm around him. "Moe, you're not gay. Trust me." I grit my teeth at Avi, who's got a self-satisfied smile on her face.

"No, I am," he says. "Avi just made me realize it."

"She's messing with you!"

"But I think Ricky Martin is hot!" he wails.

"Are you stupid?" I'm trying not to laugh. "If you were really gay, the idea wouldn't make you so miserable!" Avi bites her lip to stop chuckling.

"She knows what she's talking about!"

"She's a nutcase, you moron!"

"Hey!" protests Avi, jabbing an elbow into my arm. "Keep that up, and you'll have to get rid of that leftover energy by yourself tonight!"

"So I'm not gay?" asks Mohan timidly.

"NO!" Avi and I yell in unison.

He lets out a sigh of relief. "Don't you just love this guy?" laughs Avi, ruffling his hair.

"I need a beer," he says, leaving the two of us alone.

I grab her hand discreetly. Not everyone here knows we're lesbian, so we still have to be careful. She tucks a strand of my long black hair behind my ear. "You want to spend the night at my place?" she asks me.

"Wish I could," I say. "But I've spent too much time practicing playing, and I got midterms coming up."

She bends down to whisper in my ear. "I love you."

She doesn't make such an obvious display of affection very often, except in our most intimate moments. "I know that, silly. I love you too." I want to kiss her, but I settle for giving her a bear hug, buddy-buddy style. "But we've got the weekend."

"Ah, yes, the Big Songwriting Weekend," says Avi. "Not much chance of getting any action there." She smiles. "But that's okay. I just want to spend time with you. Even if it's without sex."

I pinch her firm buttocks. "Uh-huh," I grin. "I'll believe *that* when I see it."