The Righting Process

Krish | Dear New Dehli Mothers

Krish NOTES

Meeting Krish: 
His eyes are warm, dark brown and encased in glasses. His clothes are all too big on him, and I wonder if he’s lost weight recently. He certainly didn’t need to. He’s very small - even smaller than I pictured from the Tinder profile. He’s short too. I should have asked about height, I thought to myself. The thought was quickly erased when magic crossed his face: That Grin! I can feel it in my soul. Robust white teeth surrounded by the most amazing lips I have ever seen on a guy. My eyes fall to his mouth, and I want to kiss him right then more than I have ever wanted to kiss a guy I just met in the middle of the grocery store. School supplies making you horny, Ms. Taken? You really are a teacher. I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks, so I quickly turn toward check out. 

Krish: I really was surprised you would meet me. 
Me: Well, I figured I could take you. Oh that’s not what I mean.
Krish: You mean because I’m… (gestures toward his frame)
Me: That and I can take most guys. I was married to a boxer for 18 years and sparred with him a lot. Also, I have a brown belt in Taekwondo. 

First time I heard Krish really laugh:
Sitting on my bed watching something on TV while I watch him. Whole body shaking (His typical laugh I have seen) Then this complete joyful sound erupts and he’s laughing uncontrollably. I gently tighten my arm around him and pull him even closer.

It is what it is
Who me?

Accidentally picking Krish up at his apartment. That laugh.

Krish at Ivars Mukilteo-- HAT 
Gives me his hat so that my eyes are protected from the evil sun. Krish about meeting me with  his future wife. -- already hate her. Says he’s going to introduce me as his teacher. Sigh. 

Krish at Leavenworth
Beer Garten, Lake Wenatchee, trails - eek, Paragliders, watching for the stars by the river. Include the hot sex notes. Hand on back. Toe curling. 

Kansas breakdown. 
Kassidy: Tell him you love him. 
Me: Nope. 
Kassidy: But you’re sure he loves you?
Me: Yep.
Kassidy: So?
Me: He can’t love me.
Kassidy: But he does.
Me: Yeah, but he’s not allowed to.
Kassidy: Because his parents won’t let him?
Me: Yep. 
Kassidy: That’s some soap opera shit right there.
Me: I know, but it’s a cultural difference. I prefer to think of it as “Shakespearian.”
Kassidy: Well, it might be nice to have a soap opera. My love life is like a 90’s sitcom. 
Me: What love life?
Kassidy (Punches me in arm.): Finally in Kansas. 
Me (Brimming with sarcasm): Whoo-hoo. 
Kassidy: How do you know you love him?
Me: Because thinking of him leaving physically hurts my body and makes me instantly tear up (I look at her, so she sees the forming tears.)
Kassidy: and you can’t have him?
Me: Nope. Can’t.
Kassidy: Then you should dump him. 
Me: Can’t do that either. (The tears spill over proving my point.)
Kassidy: It’s the nice thing to do?
Me: Nice to whom?
Kassidy: Nice to yourself. Are you staying with him because you have hope? Or because he needs you.
Me: Nope. Not stupid. I just want to enjoy the journey. 
Kassidy: Well, it sounds like hope. 
Me: He can’t stay. He needs to take care of his parents. He feels really guilty for being here while they are there. It’s eating him up. 
Kassidy: Then end it, so he can go without knowing.
Me: I can’t. I’m already too deep. 
Kassidy: Then you should tell him - at least give him a chance to have a choice.
Me: He doesn’t have a choice, Kassidy. It’s family. 
Kassidy: It sucks. 
Me: Yep, and not even big ones, little tiny limp ones. 
Kassidy: Yeah, tic-tac sized. 

Hours pass like days. I just want to go home. I hate driving through Wichita. The city smells like eggs and desperation.  

We pull up to the door and are greeted by my ladybug. She runs out. She pauses. I pause hoping she remembers me. Shes loping toward me. Her fur is matted and her eyes are tear stained. She hasn’t been groomed in months. I can smell the inside of the house from the porch, and then he’s there on the porch staring at me petting lady. I’m instantly angry. Rage courses through me as I stand up. He’s been working out. Perfectly shaped arms crossed over an immense chest. Perfect V lining down into his pants. Fucking Alphas. I laugh out loud as Albert’s word for this type of guy crosses my mind.