Yes, My Accent Is Real by Kunal Nayyar Page B

moment. I was on a spiritual high, plus I really wanted her to like me again—friend, brother, lover, whatever she wanted, I just wanted her back. It was a nice way to encapsulate my long-winded apology. After Mass ended, we were allowed to hug everyone. I specifically stole some hugs from a few people so it would work out that we hugged last. And then we did. We hugged, and for me it was the hug of a lifetime. Then, involuntarily, I whispered breathily in her ear, “Finally.” I meant it. It was creepy, but I meant it.
    Allison transferred colleges a year later. Next time she came to town, she seemed different. Everything was different. I was more acclimated to the United States, more confident, more myself. I took her out for a couple of drinks to catch up. A few drinks turned into more, and some more after that. We ended up making out.
    It was awful. The entire fantasy I’d imagined for so long was replaced with what seemed like two high school students fumblingin the dark. Something just didn’t feel right. We stopped. I looked away, embarrassed. Confused. Was it me? As she gathered her things to leave, she said she was sorry. “Because,” she said, “truth is, Kunal, I’m a lesbian.”
    Apparently throughout the two years we were friends, she was fighting through the confusion, the pain, the . . . whatever you go through when you realize that what your body is telling you is against everything you’ve ever been taught as a child. I thanked her for her honesty. I told her she could call me anytime she needed someone to talk to. This angel. This prophecy. This goddess on a pedestal. She seemed to be exhausted from wrestling with this perceived “sinful sexual orientation,” her religion versus her desire, and I felt bad for her.
    After she left, I went to eat a bacon cheeseburger. It was a really good burger and it made me think about my own religious beliefs. About religion versus desire. Was it right to eat beef when doing so was so completely against everything I was taught as a child? Did that make me a sinner? And if so, should I too be as morally conflicted as Allison? And then it hit me. I just really liked beef. Allison just really liked women. And if God really gave a damn he would have struck us both down with lightning for our sins. You see, in my opinion, God didn’t care if I ate beef, or if Allison ate . . . was a lesbian. He only cared that I tipped the waiter who brought me my burger and that Allison lived a life that made her happy and let her find love. To this day every time I eat a bacon cheeseburger, I think about Allison the Lesbian.

I’m ahorrible manager of pee. I always hold it till the last moment. I’m not sure why. I’m not someone who is usually a procrastinator. But something about peeing . . .

Kumar Ran a Car
    THE SUMMER BEFORE MY SENIOR year I decided that I was doneworking outdoors or collecting garbage. I wanted something indoors, preferably work you did while sitting on a chair, in a room with an air conditioner. I flipped through the student paper and saw an opening in the computer lab. Perfect . Except for the fact that I knew nothing about computers, everything about this job was appealing. I mean, I could turn one on, but I didn’t know how to code. Or how to program. Or how to troubleshoot. All I knew was that if something goes wrong, you should probably unplug the computer for thirty seconds. But I thought, Hey, I’m Indian, maybe I can just say that and they’ll trust that I know what I’m doing.
    I interviewed with this quiet guy who wore glasses, named Dominick. He was from China. His hair was perfectly parted to one side, polo buttoned all the way to the top, and he wore light brown khakis and Nike running sneakers.
    â€œHi, Kunal, nice to meet you,” he said, in a soft, high-pitched voice that sounded like an adorable old lady. I could tell right away that the