Hari Kunzru - Transmission

‘Where is he from?’

‘What?’

‘Your boyfriend. Which country is he from?’

‘Nic’s Bulgarian-American. Is that relevant?’

‘Ah, it was Bulgarian.’

He stared intently at his empty shot glass; even in America it was probably indecent to meet someone’s eyes while remembering what they sound like having sex. He was so busy trying to route around this problem that he missed what she said next.

‘I beg your pardon?’

No, he had heard right. Some of the people Chris slept with were women, and the tall one with the shaved head was one of them. Chris accepted that because of his culture Arjun might be shocked by this but she hoped he would try to be open-minded. He ought to recognize that it was not as if she owed him this explanation, or anything at all. She just wanted things to be clear.

Arjun was in fact familiar with lesbianism, which was a favourite theme of the CD-ROMs Aamir sold at Gabbar Singh’s Internet Shack. Admittedly the physical appearance of these particular lesbians had thrown him, since all the ones in Aamir’s pictures had big hair and lacy underwear. But that was only one of a number of problematic areas in Chris’s speech. It was difficult to know where to begin. In confusing semantic situations, he had often found it helpful to define terms before proceeding.

‘Is there a word for someone like you?’

‘Hello? Think before you speak there, buddy.’

‘You are a bisexual, yes?’

‘You make it sound like a medical condition.’

‘Oh, so you think it has a physiological basis?’

For some reason the question seemed to make Chris angry, and she stormed out of the bar. Arjun was careful to leave a tip for the barman before he followed her. Four drinks. One two three four singles, tucked under a glass. He tried to take this mood-swing in his stride. Christine Schnorr was an alien creature (what Indian girl would have such tattoos?), and her unusual operating rules were part of her difference. Some things about her personality were clearly national traits: her hostility to her family, for example. Others, like her anger and this new set of sexual revelations, had some mysterious alternative source.

Apart from Priti and a couple of cousins (aunties didn’t count) Arjun had never spent much time with women. He certainly had no idea how to handle an angry one. When he caught up with Chris at the car, she was pacing up and down, twirling her keys threateningly round one finger. Spotting him, she launched into a tirade which echoed through the underground lot.

‘I don’t fucking believe this, I really don’t. What in hell gives you the right to talk to me that way? I don’t have to answer to you for anything. Not a damn thing, you understand? Yeah I fucked Tori. So what? I mean, is this Nazi Germany or something? Who are you to call someone sick? What gives you the right to judge people? You know what? Fuck you, Arjun. Fuck! You!’

She pulled open the car door and got in. The engine started with a roar. Arjun’s composure began to fall to pieces. His wrong doing was obviously more serious than he thought. Why would she be like this? What were you supposed to do? Maybe there was a physical technique, a fireman’s lift, an angry woman Heimlich Manoeuvre. Chris started to pull out of the parking bay. Desperate to stop her, he ran round to the front of the Honda. As she jerked the car forwards, he ended up sprawled over the hood.

‘Why are you so angry?’ he mouthed through the windshield. Chris wound down a window.

‘Get the fuck off my car!’

‘I’m sorry’ he implored. ‘Why are you angry with me?’

‘Fuck off!’

‘But tell me why?’

‘Because — because I hate bigoted assholes like you. Just because your religion or whatever says women are your slaves doesn’t mean I have to play along. Now will you get off my fucking car or am I going to have to run you down?’

Now Arjun was scared. Never before had he faced the serious threat of violence.

‘You mustn’t do this!’ he shouted. ‘I’m not a religious person. I’m a rationalist! Please, Chris!’

Chris leaned her head against the steering wheel. How did she get into this? Splayed across the hood, Arjun looked like a tall, skinny marsupial. A lemur perhaps. Or a sloth. A mall security guard was jogging towards them, speaking into a walkie-talkie. She waved him away.

‘It’s fine, OK. Don’t sweat it.’

Uncertainly, the guard slowed down. She waved again and smiled a sweet good-citizen smile. Then she stuck her head back out of the window

‘Get in.’

Arjun gingerly released his grip on the windshield wipers and slid into the passenger seat. Chris pulled the rest of the way out of the spot and headed for the exit. Arjun decided to trust her. It seemed unlikely she would do anything rash now.

Since the night they got too drunk, Arjun’s feelings about Chris had undergone a transition. The sounds that seeped through the partition wall had flayed away a skin of romantic possibility. He understood now that there could never have been true love between them, not as he had pictured it: Radha and Krishna, Devdas and Parvati, Raj and Bobby. Only after the illusion was crushed did he admit to himself he had considered it at all. What would his parents have said? It would have been impossible.

They were on the freeway before he felt it was safe to try to clear things up. ‘I’m sorry,’ he began, truthfully. ‘I’ve offended you. I don’t think you’re sick and I have no professional legal experience and I know this is the land of the free and you have full citizenship rights to do whatever you want at any time.’

Chris allowed herself to be slightly mollified. ‘That’s a start.’

‘All I wanted to know is — well, this is all rather new to me. I expect you are taught about it in sexual-education classes. You have to remember I haven’t had your experiences.’

Chris narrowed her eyes. ‘What do you mean, experiences?’

‘Sexual experiences. Of course — I understand the procedure. I’m not entirely ignorant, you know.’

‘You understand the procedure?’

‘For sex. I’ve read a lot of things about it. It’s important to educate yourself. I’ve seen pictures too, of course…’

‘You’ve read a lot.’

‘Yes.’

‘But you’ve done it too.’

The silence stretched out between them, broken only by the rumble of passing cars. Arjun looked at his hands.

‘Well, not as such.’

‘You mean with another guy. Homosexuality.’

‘With anyone.’

‘You’ve never had sex at all?’ She picked her words carefully. ‘Arjun, are you telling me you’re a virgin?’

‘There’s no need to be crude about it.’

‘I’m sorry. But you’re how old? Twenty-three?’

He nodded. Chris considered the matter.

‘This is a line, right? You think if you say you’re a virgin I’m going to feel sorry for you and fuck you.’

Arjun went very quiet. When he spoke again his voice was small and tight. ‘Maybe you should just stop the car. I don’t like to sit here and be insulted.’

‘My God, you’re telling the truth.’

‘Why would I lie?’

‘Why would you lie?’

She decided not to get into that one and carried on driving down the road, thinking to herself, a virgin? Oh, brother.

Chris would want it known that her decision to have sex with Arjun should be put down solely and entirely to drugs. Were there a national system of learning from mistakes, the story would be written up and distributed to schoolchildren as a government information leaflet, a true-life illustration of why drugs are bad and the people who take them are stupid.