Suna twirls around and checks again. Same reflection. Suna smiles and finds the girl smiling back. Suna kicks out one long leg. The reflection does the same. Suna adjusts the straps. Smoothes the fabric against her flat stomach. This dress will make all the difference. This dress will show everyone that she is not just a little girl anymore. Suna gazes into her eyes. She wants Ysrael to see her this way. She wants Ysrael to see that she can be beautiful too.
mina
HE IGNORED ME THE entire day. Not even looking up when I walked over to the press to hang up some white dress shirts on a stand next to him. I tried to catch his eyes, but he refused to look up. Did he really think that I didn’t want to see him yesterday? Was he angry that I hadn’t stood up for him?
So what was I expecting when I drove into the library parking lot, scanning all the cars, and found no trace. There was no familiar figure leaning up against the door. No familiar profile bowed in concentration. Suna sat next to me, craning her neck, her eyes searching. I parked the car and tried to act as though I had really come to the library to go to the prep class. I twisted in my seat and reached for my books on the backseat. As I stretched out, a sharp pain in my shoulder made me cry out.
“Goddamnit.” I slumped in my seat, the heel of my hands pressing into my eyes. Suna sat quietly next to me. I counted my breaths, willing the tears to recede, willing my heart to stop beating. Like that. Like I cared. What did I expect when I couldn’t even be honest with myself about my feelings?
Even before I heard his voice, I knew Ysrael had come by the small yelp of joy from Suna. I took my hands from my face and looked up.
“Mina,” he said, his head tilted in concern. “Are you okay?”
I nodded.
“You sure?”
“Hi, Ysrael,” Suna called out and smoothed her new dress across her lap.
Ysrael smiled at her. “Hey, Suna. Can you wait here for a minute while I talk to your sister?” Ysrael opened the car door for me. I stepped out.
“Are you going somewhere?” Suna asked, leaning forward.
“We’re just gonna talk over there.” Ysrael pointed to some trees at the edge of the parking lot. “Okay?” Ysrael leaned into the car and tousled Suna’s hair.
We walked over to the trees. Halfway across, he took my hand.
“What’s going on?” Ysrael asked, giving my hand a squeeze.
I thought about what to say. If I should tell him the truth or just lie about how Uhmma had been giving me a hard time. I thought about all the lies in my life. All the lies that had become my life, and I knew in that moment Ysrael would not be a part of that. I wouldn’t lie to him.
“I thought you weren’t going to be here,” I said.
Ysrael took my other hand. “Where would I be?” he asked.
I shook my head, not trusting my voice.
He reached out and touched my face. “Mina. I don’t know how to be with you. One minute you’re acting like you can’t wait to hang out with me. And the next minute, as soon as your mom walks in, you act like I’m nobody. I don’t know how to deal with that.”
I struggled to get my voice back. “My mother makes it hard. I have to do things that I don’t want to because of her.”
His voice was worn down. “Come on, Mina. This isn’t about your mom or what you can or can’t do. You’re not a child. You do have a mind of your own.”
“You don’t understand,” I said. “I can’t just do whatever I want all the time like you. There are people I have to take care of.”
Ysrael clasped his fingers behind his neck. He gazed off at the traffic. “I know you have to watch out for Suna. I understand. But, Mina.” He turned to me. “You can’t protect her forever. And you can’t live to please your mother all the time. When are you going to stop hiding and live your own life?”
I stared down at my hands. At the lines in my palm. So many paths. And at each intersection, a choice. A decision. In all those lines, where was my lifeline?
Ysrael offered me his hand. I reached out and took it.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go and get something to eat.”
• • •
Ysrael sat in the backseat, his guitar to one side. Every once in a while, he would lean forward to direct me.
“Take a right at that next corner.”
I turned.
“There it is,” he said, pointing.
A red neon sign in cursive read JUAN’S. A curly wrought-iron fence alongside the short flight of stairs to the front door was the only decoration. The small windows were dark with drawn curtains. If the sign wasn’t out front, you would have thought it was just another apartment in a run-down building. I parked the car alongside the restaurant.
“You sure it’s open?” I asked, opening the car door and stepping out. I pushed my seat forward to let Ysrael out.
“Don’t worry, you’ll see,” Ysrael said and scrambled out with his guitar.
Ysrael led us up the steps and then opened the door to the restaurant. An entire world roared back at us.
Tables were packed with families, with men, with teenagers. Waiters and waitresses rushed back and forth from a small swinging door in the back of the restaurant. We stood at the cash register and waited for someone to seat us. A young waitress in the back with long reddish brown hair scowled at us. There were no empty tables as far as I could
