Ysrael was laughing, his arm around a waitress’s waist. It was the girl who had been scowling at us when we first entered the restaurant. Her long reddish hair framed her face, making her pale skin glow like moonlight. The dusty pink of her lips set off by her dark wide-set eyes. She leaned down and nuzzled Ysrael’s neck before she stepped back to let him play the next song. As she receded into the crowd, she looked over in my direction. There was no scowl this time, just a simple direct look. A gaze that held all the confidence of someone who belonged exactly right where she had been standing.
suna
SUNA FEELS THE THUMPING of people’s feet, the vibration of Ysrael’s playing and the music from the jukebox. Waves of sound pass over and through her like a breeze. She stands, unable to contain herself, and joins the crowd. And for one of the few times in her life, she experiences the sensation of being a part of something. Amongst these strangers who would not know her from someone on the street, she finds herself clapping and bumping into shoulders and sharing smiles.
Suna tries to memorize every bit of the moment. As if she is filling a box with collected treasures. The feel of her dress against her skin as she moves her body to the music. The blazing smile that Ysrael shines out at her over everyone’s head. The pulsing music that fills her head until she begins to feel like she’s flying. She wonders briefly if this is why Mina always listens to music. Because it can take you to another place. And even when it seems that the box could not possibly fit another second, Suna pushes in another memory. She grabs on to that poster of the sunset. Of the sun, brilliant and bright, shining out over turquoise waters. She finds it hard to imagine that this is the same sun she sees every day. And as she closes up her box, she promises herself, someday, she will find that place. Walk along those shores and greet the sun like a long-lost friend. Now she knows that this sun can exist.
mina
HE DIDN’T EVEN KNOW I left. I stepped out of the restaurant into the hot, windless night and sat on the steps. The music thumped behind the closed door and I rested my forehead against the wrought-iron fence. The face of the waitress and the way she pressed herself against Ysrael lingered on. Of course, I said to myself, of course. Why wouldn’t he have someone? I pressed my forehead more deeply into the iron. How stupid I felt. All this time I only saw him as someone whose life bordered with mine. His life at the dry cleaners, his life at the library. But that was my life, not his. He had far more than that. I wiped away the tears with the heel of my palm. And I was not a part of this. His life.
I stood up. I couldn’t even be angry with him, at the way he made me feel as though we could be together, at the kiss. Just a sadness so deep, it hurt to move. I took one step at a time and walked away from the restaurant. Walked away from Ysrael. I didn’t know where I was going, just knew that I had to get away from there.
The farther I got, the easier it was to walk until I found myself running. Running hard, block after block, my breath coming in quick pants and sweat running down my back. A large dog leaped against a fence, barking wildly, and I jumped from the sidewalk to the street. The darkness of the street swirled in. The dog snarled and barked again. I crossed to the other side and looked up and down the empty street.
A dart of panic. What was I doing? Where was I going? I wrapped my arms around me and started walking back to the restaurant.
I walked quickly, not looking up, keeping the strangeness of the street and the fear of being alone at the edge of my vision.
In the distance a voice shouted, “Hey.”
I looked up. Ysrael was waving and running toward me.
“Mina,” Ysrael said in between breaths. “What happened?”
I shrugged.
“Hey,” Ysrael said, touching my shoulder. “What’s going on?”
I jerked off his hand. “I’m fine.”
Ysrael tried to make a joke. “My playing that bad?”
I didn’t answer. I turned to walk away.
“Mina.” Ysrael grabbed me from behind and hugged me tight, making me stop. “Mina, talk to me.”
Ysrael gently turned me around and pulled me against him. “Mina. Mina,” he repeated over and over again.
I bowed my head and leaned into him. Let his chest take the brunt of my crying. I could smell the smoky sweetness of his sweat. Felt the hot flush of his skin beneath his thin T-shirt. I shook my head and muttered, “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t belong with you.”
Ysrael held me tighter. “Don’t say that.”
I looked up at him. His face was in shadow, a distant streetlight barely illuminating the slope of his nose and the curve of his lips.
“You live in such a different world.”
I could see the shadow of a slight smile. “No, Mina. We make our own world and the restaurant, that place, that’s where I go to give
