March/April 2016

Home

Taja closed her eyes and took in the nauseating smell of smokers and mothballs. She knew this smell. All buses smelled like this, and normally, it didn’t bother Taja. But today, it reminded her of her parents. Her parents who took her on bus rides every Saturday to go to the Indian market she loved. The swirling chaos of it all, vendors sitting under tarps showing off their products, the spicy smell of chicken masala, the sweet and salty smell of chaat, filling Taja’s nose. She could taste the sweet honey from her favorite dessert, gulab jamun, on her tongue. She could feel the sponginess on her teeth. She remembered it all so clearly. Taja clutched her bus seat, her nails digging into the cheap leather. She felt very small. She stared out the window, sensing the urge to get off at the next stop, 14th Street, and make her way to the barren marketplace. “You have no right to say no to foreign customers, you little rascal!” It had been years since she had been to the market. The last time, she had been with her parents, holding their hands tightly. Taja sniffled. The sun was hurting her eyes, and all she wanted to do was crawl under the bus seat. The Indian vendors had left three years ago. Taja remembered reading in the newspaper about the plans to turn the marketplace into a bowling alley. When the city council had finally kicked the Indian vendors away, sending them back to their country, it became obvious that there was not enough money for the bowling alley. Deep down, Taja wished that the bowling alley had been built; it would stop her mind from returning to her parents and India. Of course, if the Indian market still existed, maybe life wouldn’t be so melancholy either. *          *          * Taja arrived at the King Soopers fifteen minutes later. She stepped down the bus stairs and crossed the street to the big store. Shopping carts were stacked in rows in front of the two big doors. Taja found that the King Soopers was very convenient, it was right next to her university. She could do her grocery shopping, then go straight to classes where she majored in biology. Taja grabbed a shopping basket, then went into the store, directly to the frozen-food aisle, to get the most important food: naan. She reached into the cool fridge, goosebumps crawling up her arms. She pulled out her favorite brand. Over the years, she had tried them all. None of them were the same as the steaming hot, real naan that used to be sold at the market. The microwavable kind would have to do. Setting it into the basket, she made her way to the vegetable aisle to get some spinach. She would make saag paneer that night. Taja remembered her last year of high school. The last year her parents would make her saag paneer. “We want you to get a good education, Taja,” her mother had said. “We will return to India for you. We will pay for you to follow your dream. Life here is expensive. In India, we can live for a lower cost, while you go to college. Taja, if you go to college, you could get a real job. You could make money, and one day, pay to return home to us!” Taja had swallowed her paneer and looked down. “OK, Mama,” she had said. Taja pushed the memory to the back of her head and continued down the aisle to go buy spices. Once her basket was full, Taja headed down to the cashier. She placed her items on the dusty conveyor belt and opened her handmade wallet her mother had sent her from India. The cashier looked up. “Where are you from?” he asked suspiciously. “I’m from India,” Taja replied. “India, huh?” “Yes, what’s wrong with that?” Taja asked. But the cashier didn’t answer. He stood up from his stool and bent down over Taja. His height was threatening. “I don’t serve Indian customers here!” he bellowed. “You don’t belong here, go back to your own country! I don’t want your dirty little bodies in this store, so get out! Hand over those groceries and get out!” Taja couldn’t believe his painful words. She stepped back from the counter, holding back the hot tears. She clutched her wallet, and gulped. The cashier glared at Taja, waiting to pounce on his prey. Then a lady with light blond hair and a huge cart full of food placed her hand on Taja’s shoulder. “You have no right to say no to foreign customers, you little rascal! This poor girl just needs some food!” The lady’s voice was louder and sterner than Taja expected. “I expect you to give her the food for free as an apology for what you just said. Seriously.” “You think you can boss a cashier around?” “Do I need to call the police?” The cashier, obviously taken by surprise, swallowed, then nodded. He grabbed Taja’s groceries, swiped them under the scanner, and never asked for the fifteen dollars they cost. Taja tried to thank the woman, but she never looked up from the edition of People she was about to purchase. *          *          * Taja left the store full of mixed feelings. Grateful, sad, mad, excited, relieved. Walking down the sidewalk towards her school, Taja looked down at her feet. Her long black hair shimmered in the sun, and all she could think about was returning to India. One more year of college, a few more years of working, then she could buy a ticket home. Home. No, Taja shook her head. This was her home. This was her home ever since she and her family had moved here in search of a better life. This was her home ever since she was a short little five-year-old, mesmerized by the tall buildings, the flushing toilets, the greasy hamburgers that didn’t exist in her

The Way Back Home

“Hey look, everybody! It’s the loser! Hey shrimp, how’s your dad doing?” Joey hooted and pointed a grubby finger at Finn, who stood horrified as the group of kids on the playground laughed. Finn lowered his head and pretended not to hear them as he walked slowly off the playground and back to the classroom. Don’t listen to them, he thought to himself. None of them knew what it was like not to have a father. He wished he were brave enough to fight back against Joey and the others who constantly bullied and harassed him. But this was a low blow. Why did Joey have to keep bringing up the fact that he didn’t have a dad? “Everything OK?” Mrs. Simons, his sixth-grade teacher, asked him kindly as he walked into the classroom. “Yep,” he said with a fake smile. The last thing he needed was for Mrs. Simons to get involved in his problems. It would just make everything worse. He looked at the clock. It was two o’clock. Just an hour left to go, he thought to himself… *          *          * Finn trudged up the hill to the secluded cottage he shared with his mom. It looked welcoming and warm, but there was never anyone inside to greet him. His mother worked very hard all day as a waitress, so Finn was always home alone. He knew his mother loved him, but she really wasn’t able to show it much because of her long hours away trying to support the both of them. Just an hour left to go, he thought to himself… Finn’s father had died when he was seven. He had no memories of his dad at all. Finn plopped his satchel onto the kitchen table and looked in the refrigerator for something to eat. There wasn’t much, but he pulled out a rather bruised apple and found some peanut butter in the pantry. Finn’s cottage was on the outskirts of town and was surrounded by forest that went on for hundreds of miles into the Canadian Yukon Territory. Finn loved going out and exploring the vast expanse of trees and finding cozy spots to relax and daydream. This is where Finn felt most at home. He could always find his way back, since he kept a self-drawn map that he had made a year ago. There were so many animals, streams, and rocks to play among. Finn never got tired of the woods. He was also an expert tree climber and would take his binoculars up a tree and perch himself up high to watch birds and dream about being one so he could fly away. *          *          * Shortly after the sun had set that evening, Finn heard the distant sound of his mother calling out his name. He quickly ran back to his house, hoping his mother wasn’t worrying about him. He saw her in the little clearing around the house. She waved to Finn, but he didn’t wave back. He slowly walked towards his house and went inside. “Hi, honey,” Finn’s mom said in a tired voice, “how was school?” Finn didn’t answer. He said a quick good night to his mom, avoiding a kiss, and ran to his bed. He thought of his day at school and buried his face in his pillow. Finn fell asleep to his own sobs. Crash! Finn abruptly woke to the sound of a pot falling to the ground. He climbed out of bed and walked around the half-wall, rubbing his droopy eyelids to wake himself up. “Sorry, Finn,” his mom said from a few yards away. “Thanks a lot, Mom!” Finn shouted. “This was my only day to sleep in and you woke me up. I’m going out to the forest to get some peace and quiet!” “Finn, I don’t want you going out there today,” his mom argued. “You were out there all day yesterday! You need to get some rest.” “You won’t even be here to see if I decide to go out there or not! You’re never even here with me. Go ahead and leave, Mom, it would be the same here without you!” Finn shouted. “You don’t even love me! I feel better when I’m out in the forest and not cooped up here with you; I’m leaving for good!” Finn bolted out the door and sprinted all the way into the trees. He didn’t turn around to see his mom’s face streaming with tears. *          *          * Finn was so in the moment that he forgot his map, binoculars, and shoes. He knew one way he wasn’t going, and that was back. It was already really late; Finn had been running and hiking for several hours. It was getting dark quickly. He’d have to make a shelter soon. Things started to seem spooky as he collected leaves and sticks. Finn wasn’t sure if he had ever ventured out this far. He could barely find anything to make a fire, let alone make a whole shelter. He decided to go up in a tree to try to find a comfortable spot to sleep. He finally found a thick branch that was sturdy and fell asleep. Finn’s dreams were a jumble of voices, whispering to him about having no parents and no one to love him. He tossed and turned all night, nearly falling off the branch. He woke up with tears in his eyes and a sore back. Swinging off onto the ground, he sniffed the air. His nose shriveled in disgust. The stench was coming from his own dirty clothes, so he set off to find some fresh water. Soon he found a gurgling creek with crystal clear water. He got in with his clothes on to wash himself and his clothes at the same time. Since he had no parents, he had no rules. As he stepped out of the creek, his stomach grumbled in protest. Finn realized he hadn’t eaten in a really long time, so

Frolic

A mound of fur, tongues, tails, clumsy paws, and deep brown eyes, laughing with the ecstasy of play The heap seems its own creature, without distinction between separate bodies Teeth nip, paws bat, tongues kiss, tails flash from side to side, a blur of pure happiness With playful growls and tackles and pounces, with not one care or worry, the play of puppies is beautiful to behold Katie Thomas, 12Standish, Maine