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- Stories of a Golden Girl Jennifer Willis
- The first time they met wasn’t actually a proper meeting. They hadn’t even made eye
- contact. They had only seen each other. Maybe it was the way the sun was setting over the
- Lexington Avenue taquería that made them notice each other. He was sitting outside, eating with
- a friend when she walked by. She had noticed him as soon as she turned the corner during her
- walk to the train station. And like she did every time she saw an attractive man, she glanced at
- him and then refused to look any more. During her brief glance, he was focused on his plate,
- trying to pick up the taco without dropping anything. And by the time he looked up and saw her,
- her head was already down, avoiding his gaze. She walked quickly, a full tote hanging on her
- shoulder, one foot in front of the other. She could feel him watching her, but she kept walking. It
- was easy. She did it all the time, like she would do later when she got to her neighborhood,
- keeping her keys between her fingers and watching any shadows that weren’t her own. Men
- jeered at her only occasionally, and she figured it was because she was good at seeming
- disinterested. But he knew. Where others saw a purposeful gait, he saw something else. The
- careful way she avoided looking at him, the way her lips were parted, how she fidgeted with her
- fingers, the flush of her cheeks. It was the opposite of what he was used to; sometimes he could
- feel other women’s looks drilling into the back of his head. But he knew. She wasn’t
- disinterested. In fact, she was very interested.
- 1
- This all transpired in the span of about fifteen seconds, but it didn’t matter how long it
- took. That was all they needed for the infatuation to begin.
- They creeped into each other’s thoughts. For her, it was every time she walked home. As
- she passed the spot where she first saw him, she would remember how he looked sitting there
- eating, the warm glow from the sunset hitting his face as he furrowed a brow to focus on his
- taco. She found it weird that she kept thinking of him. Though she usually kept her face down,
- she looked out for him, quietly hoping to see him again. After a few days of her heartbeat
- quickening every time she passed the taquería, she decided to walk a different route to the train
- station. I need to stop thinking about him, she warned herself. She remembered his blue button-
- down shirt, sleeves folded up to his elbows. Then she imagined his arms wrapping around her
- waist, his hands coming together at the small of her back. She shook away the thought and
- scolded herself. I really need to stop.
- As she fidgeted with her fingers waiting on the train platform, he was up at the taquería,
- half eating and half expecting her to turn the corner any moment. When his friend suggested they
- go to the same place near his apartment again because their burritos were so damn good, he
- didn’t object. He too quietly hoped that he would see her again. He couldn’t even tell his friend
- what had happened; she had left him speechless and it was over so soon and he’d still had tortilla
- in his mouth. He held out hope that he would get to see the sway of her hips again, her hair
- bouncing with every stride, the finality in her steps as she walked towards and away from him.
- He imagined it in slow motion. But she didn’t come. It’s a big city. Why would she be in the
- same place five days later? He went home sheepishly, kicking himself for thinking that anything
- about her was predictable.
- 2
- They were always at the back of each other’s minds. Her heart skipped a beat anytime
- she saw someone around his height with the same brown hair and light skin, and since they were
- in New York City, it happened a lot. She would hold her breath until the person would turn
- around and she saw it wasn’t him; then she’d breathe a sigh of both disappointment and relief.
- He kept an eye out for her tote bag brandishing the name of her college; one that kids from all
- over the world came here to attend. He wondered which foreign country she was from. He was a
- city kid through and through, raised in southern Manhattan and now living on the Upper East
- Side since he had gotten his job at an investment bank. Her long black hair and dark eyes
- rimmed with liner led him to believe she was Indian. She was in fact from a foreign country; it
- was called the Bronx, and usually people left it alone, though recently more people seemed to be
- moving there and leaving complaints about bodega cats on Yelp. She had just finished working a
- late shift one Saturday night and was waiting for her train, growing worried about the outsiders
- waiting near her on the uptown side of the station. They looked like the only hip hop they
- listened to was Macklemore. He was slightly buzzed after pregaming with his friends to Thrift
- Shop, waiting with them on the downtown side of the station to continue their drinking
- somewhere in the village.
- She was cracking her knuckles when she saw him from the other side of the tracks. She
- froze in place, watching him through the pillars as he laughed and playfully punched one of his
- friends. As luck would have it, they were standing right across from each other. Once she
- processed what had happened, she turned on her heel and went straight to the back end of the
- platform, feeling her tote bag bump against her hip with every step. After hoping for all this time
- to see him again, she didn’t know what to do once it actually happened. He didn’t know what to
- do either. All he saw was her, walking away with a fury, her long hair billowing out behind her
- 3
- and bag screaming out that it was her, and he was left speechless again. One of his friends must
- have seen his eyes roaming to the end of the platform.
- “Guys, let’s go up to the front,” the friend said. “It’ll be less crowded up there.”
- He swallowed the tightness in his throat, trying to think of what he would do and what
- she would do. The group of men walked slowly, taking their sweet time, slightly stumbling
- between the other people waiting on the platform. They hadn’t gotten all the way to the front
- when he spotted her leaning against a pillar, staring intently at her phone, ignoring him as best
- she could. The glow from her phone lit up her face beautifully. She looked like an angel. He
- stopped there, looking at her, willing her to look up at him. She could feel his eyes on her. She
- caved and went against every one of her instincts; she put down her phone and finally took a
- good look at him.
- He wasn’t as cute as she remembered. His beard was scruffier, his eyes were a bit
- bloodshot and his belt didn’t match his shoes.
- She looked angrier than he expected. One might call it a resting bitch face. Her arms were
- crossed against her chest and she was slouching.
- Nonetheless, he still smiled at her, and she smiled back. And when their trains pulled into
- the station, they both were kind of glad that they were going in opposite directions.
- Fifth Grade
- Her mind was chaos. The neighbors to the right were blasting salsa and the neighbors to
- the left were blasting bachata. And below her, in the kitchen, her mother was blasting Bollywood
- 4
- songs as she did her Sunday cooking. The three rhythms clashed, destined to never be in sync,
- though they each made her feet ache to dance. To drown them out, she plugged in her earbuds,
- pressing shuffle on the playlist. The Columbia white guy crooned to her, asking if her bed was
- made, if her sweater was on, if she wanted to fuck. She skipped the song, and now he crooned
- about playing tennis. She couldn’t take him seriously. No thanks, Ezra. I have work to do. So,
- she was left with no other option but to put on Work by Rihanna.
- She’d started listening to Vampire Weekend when she went to high school and wanted
- attention from the boys that she’d never seen before. Naturally, The Black Keys, Arctic
- Monkeys, and alt-J followed. Suddenly she was binge watching Arrested Development and Mad
- Men. Bollywood movies took the back burner. She hadn’t been keeping up with the new
- Dancehall music; her cousins made fun of her for not knowing the latest Vybz Kartel song. The
- only person of color she had a crush on was Zayn Malik from One Direction. In fact, the only
- other people she crushed on were straight white men. She refers to this period in her life as “The
- Dark Ages”.
- If these were her Dark Ages, the times when everyone had the plague and no one could
- read, then when were her good times? If you asked her, she’s respond quickly.
- “Fifth grade,” she would say. “That was the best year of my life.”
- She was sitting at her desk trying to focus on her paper, but the rhythm kept calling out to
- her. She found herself dancing in her seat. Her hips bounced every time Rih told her to work.
- Soon she was up out of her chair, watching herself in the mirror, making gun signs with her
- fingers and doing body rolls. She laughed at how silly it was, and then attempted to start
- 5
- twerking. It wasn’t pretty. She created a playlist of all of her favorite songs to dance to. Jumping
- up and down, rolling her hips, the soca songs spoke of peace and happiness. Comedians have
- joked about how happy soca is and how much they hate it because of that. She inspected her
- waistline in the mirror, making sure it was in time, rolling fluidly while going down to the
- ground and coming back up. At parties with her Guyanese family, they used to tell her,
- screaming over the deafening bass, “Eh gyal! Yuh can proppa dance!” and she’d laugh. Birthday
- parties, weddings, baby showers, you name it: ever since she was ten, she could be found in the
- middle of the dance floor all night (and completely sober, unlike the adults). She two-stepped
- and made gun signs to reggae songs about spending money after a paycheck. For Chutney songs,
- her hands curled up and she did intricate footwork, imitating older Guyanese dance, to alcoholic
- lyrics in our pieced-together language dubbed over stolen melodies from classic Bollywood
- songs. She loved to partner up with her mom; they made a good team against her uncles that
- tried to out-dance them. A simple flick of her waist was needed: she knew exactly when to do it
- because she knew all of the songs inside and out. Sweat beaded at her neck no matter the
- temperature outside, and she always left with ringing ears, buzzing with life.
- Then came her favorite Bollywood song from her childhood. She had her arms raised, her
- hands put in expert position, and her hips bobbing up and down with her feet, moving as
- gracefully as she could. She watched music videos and tried to replicate the choreography just
- like she did when she was six years old, dancing in front of the television for hours as song
- DVDs played on repeat. When she couldn’t figure out a move, she’d just improvise and do
- something else. Sometimes she even put on a long skirt just to feel it lift up around her as she
- turned, or the material drag behind her as she stepped forward, imagining herself on a set, lip
- syncing the love ballad to some famous actor. She watched her facial expressions in the mirror to
- 6
- make sure they matched the words in the song, the words she knew by heart, but had no idea
- what they meant. She pouted in the mirror, as per the song, and then realized how ridiculous she
- looked. So, she just turned around, closing her eyes and swaying to the music as the duet went
- back and forth. She had no idea what they were talking about, but she felt like she knew because
- she had known it her whole life. As it turns out, she’d lost those words a few generations ago,
- and the only way she could get them back was if she looked up the lyric translation. Hindi is a
- beautiful language, but the English would just have to do.
- She tried dance bachata once at a party and failed miserably, so she decided to take up
- practicing in heels. This was one of those times. One, two, three, step. One, two, three, step.
- Turn, turn, turn, step. One, two, three, step. She smiled giddily as she remembered how she had
- learned at a middle school dance, her best friend from the Dominican Republic teaching her the
- whole night. She didn’t wear heels back then, of course. Nonetheless, she stumbled among the
- sea of students from Mexico, PR, and DR who could already do it flawlessly. DJ 718 played at
- every one of their middle school dances, and always made sure to thread a few reggaeton and
- bachata songs between the mid-2000s hits. She played Daddy Yankee and screamed the lyrics
- just to feel the words in her mouth. Whatever happened between us happened. It just didn’t
- sound as good in English. The cafeteria was always dark and stuffy; kids scrambled to buy sodas
- and ice creams and popcorn with the five dollars their parents gave them that morning. The air
- horns that the DJ managed to disperse throughout every song epitomized her childhood:
- hilarious, obnoxious, and fun. It made her think of a warning sound, alerting neighbors when her
- and her friends walked onto their block on their way home from school, stomping and pushing
- each other into bushes the whole way.
- 7
- She heard Marc Anthony’s voice and remembered being in her room, watching her
- footwork in the mirror as she taught herself to salsa. Now she could do the basic step without
- thinking, both the normal and New York style. She danced alone, wondering what it would feel
- like moving against someone else, her waist under the weight of their hand, their fingers trailing
- along her hips as she turned. She remembered when she fell in love with salsa. It was fifth grade,
- and her school had gotten someone to come and show the kids how salsa music was made. The
- musician described it as a pizza: there were so many layers of instruments. The drums descended
- from Africa: the base. The maracas to add spice. The trumpets for flair. There were so many
- instruments she couldn’t remember now because it was so long ago, but every time she listened
- to salsa after that she was intrigued. She watched El Cantante in Spanish class, following the
- musical career of salsa icon Hector Lavoe, and the rise of salsa in New York City. Her friend
- from middle school, the same one that taught her how to bachata, recently said she needed to
- learn salsa. Ten years of friendship, and now she was offering dancing lessons? Sure. The two
- danced again in the El Toro section of Six Flags to the salsa song playing in the background. The
- app she used told her she was 47% fluent in Spanish, but things like this made her feel como una
- hispana. You just couldn’t put a number on that.
- She took out her earbuds and now her neighbors switched. The house on the right was
- playing bachata, and the house on the left was playing salsa. No noise was coming from
- downstairs – her mom must have finished cooking. She was looking forward to the chicken
- curry. She looked around her room, the photographs of her and the people she loved: her best
- friends, her favorite cousins, photos of her mother and grandmother from their youth back home.
- They smiled and made silly face and were stern. They were beautiful. And they were her.
- 8
- How Babies are Made
- Standing in front of him, she unclasped her bra and felt the pressure fall away from her
- chest. Upon seeing her, he grabbed her by the waist from his seat and fell backwards, pulling her
- on to the bed. She shrieked with laughter, tickled by the kisses he was placing on her neck. At
- this point, both of their pants were already off. The only thing left between them was their
- underwear. Oh, and one more thing.
- “Babe,” she interrupted him between kisses.
- “What?” he answered, breathless, still kissing her.
- She pulled back and raised an eyebrow at him.
- “Oh, shit. Yeah. Right.” He turned away from her over to his bedside table, propping
- himself up on one arm, opening the drawer and rummaging around.
- “I don’t think I have any,” he said, still looking. “Do you?”
- “No,” she whined, now getting under the blanket and laying it over him too. “Whatever I
- bought last time I left here.”
- He continued to look, praying to see the gold foil while trying to keep his hopes up. But
- with each passing second it was clear.
- “We are out of condoms,” he announced forlornly, still turned away from her. A beat of
- silence passed between them before she spoke.
- 9
- “I’m sorry, Reid,” she said, cuddling up to his back. She spooned him, placing her cheek
- between his shoulder blades. “Let’s go out on a pharmacy run. Ice cream included. On me.”
- He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, a reaction way beyond his 21 years.
- “That’s not it, Sonali,” he started. She groaned internally. She knew this conversation
- would have to come sooner or later. She just didn’t want it to be sooner.
- “Have you looked into getting birth control at all?”
- “No, and you know why I don’t want to –”
- “What’s more important to you? Don’t you want to be safe?”
- Another beat of silence passed between them, longer this time. Reid turned around to face
- her, laying on his side. It was as if he was seeing her as his reflection in a mirror.
- “Of course I want to be safe,” Sonali said, cupping his face with her hand. “I just don’t
- want to risk... I’ve heard of so many women becoming depressed and suicidal. The pills fuck
- with your mental health, and an IUD makes your period heavier and cramps worse. Everything
- else is inconvenient. Some stuff even makes you lose your period, and I don’t wanna do that. I
- could be pregnant for months and not even realize.” His eyes widened as she went on with her
- anxieties. “The side effects are so awful. Everything is fine the way it is, and I don’t wanna mess
- with it.”
- They lay there, looking into each other’s eyes, her brows furrowed in worry and his in
- frustration.
- 10
- “I don’t think everything is fine, though.”
- She felt like she’d been punched in the stomach, out of breath and forgetting how to
- breathe. But she recovered quickly.
- “Ouch,” Sonali said sarcastically, removing her hand from Reid’s face. She got out of the
- bed, crossed her arms over her chest and started to look on the floor. She didn’t even have to ask
- where her clothes were before he realized what he had said.
- “C’mon Soni, you know I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, sitting up now. He saw the
- way her eyes were blinking back tears as they scanned the room, and he felt badly. “Don’t go.”
- “Nah, I have to.” She had found her bra and was putting it on with her back facing him.
- “I have stuff to do anyway.”
- “Are you sure?”
- “Yeah.”
- Silence as she found the rest of her outfit. He continued to sit in the bed, unsure of what
- to say. Quiet waves of anger radiated off her now. He could see it in the way she was packing her
- bag, stuffing her things in there haphazardly. She usually liked to keep it neat and organized.
- “I love you.” He was sincere. He hadn’t meant to hurt her.
- “I love you too,” she said, sighing. “And I listen to you when you say things.”
- 11
- Now Reid felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. His mouth was set in a hard line as
- she put on her shoes. One of Sonali’s socks was inside out, but he didn’t tell her anything. She
- knew it was inside out; she just wanted to get out of there.
- Once she had everything on, she walked to the door to leave. She paused with her hand
- on the knob, sighing.
- She went back to him and lowered her head to his for a quick kiss. Afterwards, she
- kneeled by the bedside so she could look right into his eyes.
- “Hey, I love you. I just need more time to think about this. It’s a big step,” Sonali
- reminded him.
- “I know,” he said, not feeling angry anymore. Even the smallest of her kisses undid him
- like that. “I just don’t want you to get pregnant. And I know you don’t want to get pregnant
- either. We’re only 21, for God’s sake—”
- “I know, baby, but there’s a lot more to consider than just getting pregnant. You’re not
- the one trying to prevent your reproductive system from doing its job. So, just bear with me.
- Please?”
- They looked into each other’s eyes, mirroring concern. For Reid, it was concern that it
- wasn’t so obvious of a choice for her; didn’t every woman want to take the opportunity to use
- birth control? For Sonali, it was concern that he just wasn’t listening to her. He held her face in
- his hands and brought it to his, planting a kiss on her lips and another on her forehead.
- “I love you so much,” Reid said. “Let me know what you decide.”
- 12
- She nodded, swallowing whatever uneasiness was at the back of her throat.
- “I love you too,” Sonali replied. “I’ll see you later.” She smiled at him, left his room and
- walked out into the brisk night.
- As she made her way home, she remembered her mother.
- “Yeah, well, you were an accident!” Sonali teased her youngest sister. It was all in jest –
- the four of them laughed: her and her mother, brother, and sister.
- “You all were accidents,” their mother revealed, to which they laughed even more. It
- made sense – Sonali’s mom came to America for a college education, but never received it
- because she was too busy going back and forth between nannying other peoples’ children and
- raising her own.
- Sonali remembered her grandmother too. She gave birth to six children, but only four
- lived into adulthood.
- “The hardest thing is to have a child and then lose it. Even worse is to have a child, see
- them live to be one or two years old, and then lose them too. To be a mother is a hard thing,” her
- grandmother told once her on a visit. They shared a bed, and she often told Sonali back home
- stories late into the night, even after they had said goodnight time and time again.
- “We didn’t have so much, but you, you Americans have so much more. You got to take
- advantage.”
- 13
- Sonali tossed and turned that night; she couldn’t fall asleep. She opened her phone, found
- her mom’s number, and wrote a text:
- “Hey ma. Missing you. Will call tomorrow, I have kind of a big question. Just wanted to
- say good night, and I love you. Talk to you soon.”
- She hit send, started playing classic Bollywood songs, and turned around to sleep. She
- dreamed of her and Reid living on a deserted island, surrounded by 10 of their children all
- wearing leaves for clothes, and woke up the next morning in a sweat. She opened her phone to
- distract herself, and saw a reply from her mom:
- “Love you too hon. Sorry, too busy today, can’t talk. Sure you will be able to figure it
- out. Just remember to always do what is best for you.”
- 14
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