Stargirl

After a day of work, I took the bus back home. The ride took exactly 25 minutes and 13 seconds. It sometimes takes longer if there is traffic. That night there was no traffic, soand I got home when the sun was still out. It was summer, and the weather was warm, and the air was humid and damp;, and it created fat sweat droplets on my skin. And sweat created wide marshes under my breasts. Disgusting. One of the many reasons I dislike having breasts, apart from having to pay for useless lingerie. I took the elevator to the eleventh floor. A woman was standing with her dog inside the elevator, and we were silent for the whole ride. I just kept making eye contact with the puppy, who just gave me bored glances.

I opened the door of my apartment to find my roommates with the air conditioning blasting. Luba was making dinner and Sam was watching his favorite TV show on his laptop. The smell of the food Luba was cooking inundated the room. Fresh onions, and garlic, and chives sizzling in olive oil with some pork chops tossed in. I could also smell the scent of freshly boiled Jasmine rice, which I supposed Luba had prepared in the rice cooker. As I walked into the apartment, they both looked in my direction to acknowledge me. I said good afternoon with a smile and then ran to my bed, dropped my backpack, and curled up to take a nap.

Sometime later, I woke up to the noise of Sam sobbing. His favorite TV character had been killed on the show, and he couldn’t contain the emotions that this tragedy stirred in him. I looked at him, walked up to the corner of the room where he was lounging watching his TV show, and put my head on his shoulder. He lay his head on top of my head. as a response. I smiled softly and glanced at the laptop screen, ready to empathize with a plethora of fictional lives.

We binged on ate Chinese fortune cookies that night. Sam had found the box of fortune cookies a week earlier. He had left his bed early to go for his morning run, while I remained in my bed, hiding from the sunlight under my bed’s covers. Few minutes after he exited the door, he came back and started pounding on our apartment’s door.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

The sound woke me up almost immediately. Pretty impressive, considering that I’m a sound sleeper.

“Emma, get over herecome running!"!”, he said

“What? It’s so early. I want to continue  sleeping.”

“But you may like this. Come quickly, before someone else takes it.”

“What is it?”

“There’s a box of fortune cookies next to the elevator.”

“What? That’s impossible. I mean, it’s weird.”

“No, no, but seriously. It’s a huge box.”

I got out of bed out of sheer curiosity. I put on my slippers and followed Sam, who was sporting one of his neon workout T-shirts. As I walked behind him, I couldn’t help but notice the contour of his calves. His morning runs were carving out the muscles of his lower leg, and I could see his muscles flexing as we walked down the hall, his tendons showing every now and then, dancing with the rhythm of his gait.

Sam was right about the box. There was a huge carton box full of fortune cookies standing right in front of theour floor’s elevator on our floor. Three hundred and fifty cookies to be exact, or so the box had printed on one of its sides.

“Why would we take this?"?”, I asked.

“Because it’s cool. Just imagine how awesome it would be to have this in our place,"”, he said. “We can place it in front of the main door. TIn that way, if we come back from work after a bad day, we can crack open a fortune cookie to lift our spirits”

“Fair enough,"”, I said.

We placed the box under a table. The 3 fteet xby 3 fteet brown carton skeleton smiled back at us with its belly full of more than three hundred mysteries wrapped perfectly in transparent plastic. Mysteries and sage wisdom ready to be showered as ailment on open wounds.

A week later.

We hadven’t tried the fortune cookies, and today seemed like the perfect day. We were broken hearted, so what better remedy than to break cookie shells? It felt satisfying to pop open the plastic wrap enveloping the flaky cookie, and then pop the tiny flour skeleton in halfves.

Pop! Crack! I took out my ninth fortune of the night.

I read it aloud to my friends, “What differentiates the ordinary from the extraordinary is that little extra.”. Great, I thought.

We all laid back on the carpet floor.

Then Sam said, “What’s the point of being extraordinary if we can’t find an extraordinary boyfriend?”

Everyone in the room cracked up, laughing from the bottom of our hearts. We were so sad that our only reaction was laughter. Laughing at ourselves, laughing at our fates, laughing at our lives. I think that’s what makes you an adult, not that I know much about it. I just started college, but I guess I can say that that’s what makes you a wise person. The ability to laugh even in the darkest moments. After all, we were born to do three things: 1) Learn to love freely, especially your family and friends, 2) laugh as much as you can, and 3) Give back to the incredible “network of favors”.

The “network of favors” is something my dad taught me. When I was little, my dad sat me on a bench while he was drilling a hole in the wall. My dad was not a man of many words. He hardly ever spoke to me, and usually only when my mom pushed him to do so. Anyways, on a humid afternoon, likenot unlike[1]  many others, he felt he had something important to say. With a drill in his hands and with sweat falling from his forehead, my dad looked at me and said “‘Kid[2] Emma, if there is something that I can teach you about life, it is that our society is a network. You, your friends and your family form a network. The relationships you have with them are the lines that connect the nodes. We are all connected to each other. We all depend on each other. The actions you take have consequences on the lives of others. And as a human, you must master the skills that have kept us alive as a species: be adaptable, be social, and be creative. If you can’t do those well, then what’s the point of being a human?”’

He then proceeded to open a big hole in the wall. Whooom. Whoooom. Whoooom. Cement powder was flying all over the room, enveloping us like a gloomy mist. My mom stormed into the room and shouted, “‘I hope you clean upall this mess!”’. My dad looked at me, smiled and sighed.

***

I turned my head to thea side and I caught a glimpse of Luba. She was lying lazily by my side and gazing at the stars.

“It’s hard to find a boyfriend nowadays,"”, she said, “Oh, I wish I could have a guy to watch the stars with. Then I could roll to mya side and put my head on his chest”

I nodded and smiled, “Guess we’re too weird to find a boyfriend. Just imagine, the guy would have to deal with your very punctual bowel movement.”

Sam, who was lying next to Luba, but far away from me, cracked up laughing.

It’s one of our inside jokes. Every morning, at 7:30, without a fault, Luba wakes up to poop. Her intestines are perfectly timed. It sometimes creates us trouble because we must wait for her to be done for us to shower, and despite her efforts to modify her schedule, it has been impossible.

We all inhaled deeply and let out a long sigh. “What would your ideal date be like?” asked Sam, at the other end of our human pile.

I replied, “I guess I would like to go to an amusement park. I once read in a science magazine that any activity that gets your blood rushing is ideal to secure a good romantic relationship. In that way, the guy is going to think he’s nervous and excited because he likes me, even though in reality it’s just a mix of sensations he gets from a typical roller-coaster ride.”

“What would you like as an ideal date, Luba?"?”, I asked.

“Oh, I guess I would like to go to a farm with the guy. Like, maybe apple picking. That would be fun.”

Luba secretly wants to be a farmer and escape the troubles of city life. I guess we all secretly hate the city. With its clouds of smog, riots for social equality[3] , crime raising every day, and puzzling dating culture. Living in the city only reminds us of how pointless our existence is sometimes. Or at least that’s how I see it. But living in the city can be good sometimes. There are plenty of services[4] , eEverything is connected and walkable interconnected, and it’s easy to have fun and grab a drink with friends.

We decided to go out clubbing that night. Sam and Luba are underage, so finding a place where we can all have a good time is hard. After much searching the web and asking older friends, we found a club that allowed catered to the underage people in, White Panther

Located downtown, in an area popular among the young, the club’s [5]  White Panther’s lights made it look like a flimsy cadaver when seen from a distance. The rest of the establishments were closed. Only White Panther the club stood in the middle of the dark night vomiting blue light from its windows.

LadiesGirls over 21 - Free

Men over 21 - $3

EveryoneGirls and men under 21 - $10

Pretty cheap. Ladies night was a great deal, especially for me. I was over 21. Ha. But in general, you basically only had to pay for your drinks. Though those were expensive. The business had to make a profit in some way, no blame there. Business is business, and money is money.[6] 

The place was empty for a Friday night. It was summer, and the usual college drunks had gone back to their homes to sleep like puppies under their moms’ care. Only us, young workaholics that preferred to spend their summers doing internships and working on campus, had remained in town to witness the soil dry up under the hot summer sun.

There we were. Me sipping from a tall glass full of cranberry

vodka, while my friends gulped bubbly liquid from soda cans. Every once in a while, I would allow my friends to sip alcohol from the tall glass. More like they were puffing mouthfuls of alcohol like a fish out of the water. Drowning our sorrows in alcohol, getting our senses blurred enough to feel like we were dipping our feet in cold seawater and soft, round sand. I arched my head backward feeling the delicious buzz in my head.

I once read a graffiti in our college dorm that said, “‘Trust me, you can dance’ –Vodka.”‘Just because you can’t dance doesn’t mean you shouldn’t dance—Alcohol[7] ’.  Ha ha ha. That linequote.

The club bouncer looked at us from a distant corner. A tall, muscularstrong-built guyman covered with tattoos, he looked to be like he was in his late twenties. He had been following our movements from afar. I bet he noticed that I washad been passing my cup around for Luba and Sam. to take a sip. I felt the need to share.

The bouncer walked over to us to where we were standing and grabbed my cup.

Pointing at it with his index finger, he said clearly and loudly “ONLY -YOU. They don’t have wristbands. They’re underage. Next time I won’t go easy on you. GET IT?”.

I nodded, annoyed and frowning. I almost yelled back at him, but that would have been un-ladylike. And I was trying to be ladylike that night. I had promised myself that I was going to start acting more like all the other girls. I had even forced myself to wear a pink dress that night. And I had also applied some makeup. Though it was hard. It was always hard to act ladylike. I suppressed my desire of punching the bouncer in the face, even though I had lowered inhibitions at that moment Oh, stupid alcohol, the things that you make me want to do.[8] 

Sam, on the other handcontrary, was pleased to have the bouncer so close. He even tried grabbing the cup to catch the guy’s attention. I just snatched itthe cup back and swallowed the last few dropsgulps of vodka.

Sam had noticed the bouncer the minute we walked in. Sam always sets himself up for heartbreak. He always gets attracted to obviously- straight, macho-guys that would never bat an eye for a closeted gay guy like him. He still tried though. He would puff out his chest and strut for a while past the bouncer, who didn’t even care to look at him. It was always a painful scene to watch.

I, on the other hand, am always pragmatic. So, I usually have my heart well-guarded. Plus, I’ve never felt attraction for anybody. At least, not yet. I think I felt an attraction once, though. But she was a girl, soand that probably doesn’t count.

She had a beautiful white star on her forehead. It was a mark created by vitiligo that spread perfectly in between her eyebrows, extending its rays along her temple. It shined over her honey-tanned skin. Weird for a Hispanic woman, I must say. It’s something that I usually see in Black people, but almost never among Hispanics. It added a touch of mysteriousness to her though. It made her special, it made her blessed. She looked like a miracle among the crowd. She had light, a spark between her eyes, quite literally. Vitiligo is ruthless. Once it decides to erase part of you, it just does it. But this And this is a part tragedy, has somebut part  magic too. She knew this. She had been born with the kiss of a star. A vitiligo star. Let’s call her ‘Stargirl’.

It was early in the morning. I was sipping a hazelnut coffee I had bought before taking the commute to work. She exuded femininity among the crowd of gray, gloomy-looking workers that were checking their phone while the bus slowly rode downtown slowly. I was looking at her breasts when the bus stopped abruptly to drop passengers near an art gallery. The two meat pinnacles jiggled as if dancing to the rhythm of the drums. I tried looking in another direction to avoid being labeled as a pervert. But I couldn’t help myself. I looked again at her face. At her perfect lips. I imagined my own lips pressing against those perfectly- hydrated lips. I wondered what chapstick brand she used. I pretended to read my book, but I stopped when I felt somebody looking at me.

She was looking at me!

“Nice skirt,"”, she said aloud, overpowering the noises made by the crowd and all the noises coming from the street.

“Oh, thanks,"”, I shouted back, grinning.

“It’s a cute color. It looks good on you.”

I smiled back at her. A wide, open smile. She then stood up, smiledling, and walked down the corridor to finally exit the bus at the next stop.

“Do you always take the bus at this time?”, she asked.

“Yeah, same time every morning.”.

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”.

That answer shocked me. I’ve been taking this same bus every day for the past two months and I’ve never seen her, butand now she was saying she was going to see me tomorrow? Was she planning to change her daily routine just to see me, or was she just being friendly with me? I didn’t know the answers to those questions. [9] I brushed off the thoughts and preferred not to overanalyze the situation.

She then stood up, smiling, and walked down the corridor to finally exit the bus at the next stop[10] . I followed her shape, her round hips rocking from side to side, as she walked of the bus to a local coffee shop, opened the door, and entered. Her hair kept flowing in the air, with sun rays illuminating her hair ends, and reflecting a golden, amber color.

Next morning, she showed up at the same time as the previous day, this time wearing long, striped, purple stockings. She had a unique style.

“Good morning,"”, she said while sitting right by me.

“Good morning, again,"”, I said grinning.

“So, are you from around here?”

“Huh? Uh, no. I’m just here for a summer internship. I’ve been working at an office for two months already,"”, I answered almost robotically. This is probably the thousandth time I answered that e same question, in the same way., I thought.

“Oh, so you can show me around then. I just got here, I’m new in town!"!”, she said enthusiastically.

Apart from her, I don’t think I’ve ever liked anybody.

Throughout high school, I never had a boyfriend. Whenever someone asked me if I liked anybody, I would shrug and reply dryly “‘No.”’. My classmates would giggle and call me a liar and ask again, “‘But don’t you have a feeling that you only get for guys and not for girls? Like, ‘liking’ someone?”’. “‘No,”’, I replied. And I wasn’t lying, . And that was the problem. I was confused. At that young age, I couldn’t wrap my head around it, so I thought I liked nobody. My replies were the perfect ingredients for a disaster. Soon, I stopped being popular. People started making fun of me. And I struggled with accepting that I had been born with the body of a girl.

That is, until now. I have decided that I need to accept my body. And I have resolved to be more ladylike. And I am succeeding so far. I didn’t punch the bouncer as I had wanted to.

****

I woke up the next morning with a massive headache. The veins in my forehead were throbbing and my throat was burning. I looked at my surroundings and realized I was lying down on a sofa in an unknown room. Luba and Sam were not in the room. I stood up and found a bathroom nearby. I looked at my face in the mirror. My puffy eyes easily gave away easily that we hadI had had a wild night the day before.

At that moment, the flashbacks hit me.

I was sitting on top of Stargirl’s lap. She was sitting on a couch at the basement of some frat house party. I gazed deeply into her eyes and ran my fingers through her hair.

“I’ve been wanting to do this from the first moment I saw you. You have soft hair. It’s so beautiful.”. She smiled, closing her eyes.

I then pulled her hair back and proceeded to kiss her. Her tongue dancing with my mine. I could taste the wine and beer she had been drinking. I then proceeded to suck her neck, nibbling it gently from time to time.

“Are you sure you’re oOk with this?"?”, I remember I had managed to say.

“Yes, I want this, and I need this,"”, she had said with her eyes closed.

“What about if I do this?"?”, I said while slipping my hand under her tank top and past her bra. I could feel her left nipple hardening.

“Yes, I’m fine with that. Stop second-guessing yourself,"”, she said and proceeded to kiss me.

I answered the kiss by pressing my face strongly against hers. I then proceeded to lift her tank top and expose her breasts. Her two little pink nipples were happily crying for attention. I proceeded to lick them and suck them again, and again, and again.

I tried to shut down the memory.

How could have I gone that far? I remembered clearly how I was pressing my face against her breasts. I remembered their warmth and their smell. I washed my face over, and over again, trying to wake myself up, trying to erase the memory, trying to clean up my mind.

When I exited the bathroom, an unfamiliar girl was standing outside. She looked as huangover as I did. I figured she had been with me at the party the night before.

“Where am I?”, I managed to ask with a raspy voice.

“2nd St. It’s right next door to the frat house from last night”

“Oh, I see. Do you know where Luba is?”

“I think I saw Sam helping her walk out of the party last night. You were wild,"”, she said grinning.

“Did you see us?! Do you remember? Was it that bad? I’ve never been drunk in my life before, and that was my first kiss,"”, I said, scared that any of my classmates had seen me with a girl. I feared being judged.

“Pretty wild for a first kiss, huh. I think she enjoyed it. Oh, and she has nice boobs. Good job!"!”, she said with a grin, and then she entered the bathroom.

I went back to the couch where I had been sleeping and took off my hoodie, pulling it over my pink dress. I then walked outside of the apartment and took the elevator down to the lobby. When I stepped outside, a bright noon sun slapped me inon the face. I texted Luba and Sam; , and they asked me to meet them at the local farmer’s market.

We were crossing the street to go to the marketplace. We had to walk over some of those round, copper plates under which ran the city’s steam tunnels. The warm, humid air was coming out of them.

 “Oh, it feels like a warm hug,"”, I said.

A warm hug like the one that Stargirl gave me the one day that she found me crying near the bus stop. It was a warm, long hug. I could sniff the smell of her freshly pressed clothes. I still remember that smell.

“Huh? Emma! You say the craziest things sometimes,"”, screamed Luba, laughing.

“But it’s true. Just stand on top of one of them.”.

Luba and Sam did so.

“Doesn’t it feel like when somebody hugs you strongly?"?”, I asked.

“I guess,"”, said Luba. “But I still think it’s a weird thing to say”.

“It feels like a warm, fuzzy hug, I swear,"”, I said.

Sam stood on top of one of the copper plates and said, “I do think that it feels like a bear hug. One of those hugs that you don’t really want, but still get. Yeah, I get it, Emma.”

“You guys are so crazy!"!”, said Luba.

“Oh well. And this is why, ladies, you will never find a boyfriend,"”, said Sam, smiling sarcastically.

“And what if I don’t want a boyfriend?"?”, I asked, laughing.

They stopped laughing and looked at me whimsically.

“What?"!”, I replied.

They both walked overtowards me and hugged me.