Short Stories

The day I moved to my grandparent's house with an open, grand garage and a view facing a long river in the streets of Villa Carolina, Puerto Rico, I didn't know what to do or say. I was 6 years old but in my own opinion as a little girl, I was ageless. I was an only child embraced by my grandparents' love, especially on the warm afternoons going to the beach and enjoying the sand. I would rant and boast to strangers about my mother and grandparents but when it came down to it, I was very naive. 

At the age of 5, I had just been diagnosed with ADHD although at the time I didn't think anything was wrong with me. Or understood what was happening or why I saw my mom open capsules releasing white dust onto my water that tasted horrible running down my throat and still made me drink it. She used to say something along the lines of, “It’s good for you”. But I did not see how that could ever be true. Doctors would laugh at me while speaking to my parents as if I didn’t understand their complex words picking at the little things that made me who I was. 

My parents and I had lived in the same small, simple yellow house with 3 bedrooms and square windows facing the streets filled with trash, kids without shoes, and skateboards as transportation for the whole 6 years of my life. So when my mom and I moved to my grandparent’s house I couldn't wrap myself around it. It was like a long vacation turned into a nightmare. 

The days passed faster than I had hoped for. It was just another summer day in Puerto Rico, I couldn’t tell at the time it was summer though because the temperature was always 80 degrees or up. As a young girl with braids in her hair and two left feet, I caught up quicker than maybe I should have. When my mom and I moved to my grandparent’s house, I often remember her storming out of the house yelling. I saw her in her room crying or cleaning trying to brush away the pain of leaving home.  I didn't catch up on what this meant until it was too late. This day in particular was filled with the same burning sun on my cheeks flaring my eczema up. It was filled with the same reptiles along the sidewalk and palm trees dancing in the sky. It was filled with the chirping birds as my alarm and the coqui frogs as my lullaby. But I was so entirely wrong about it all. 

My grandma used to give me a flip phone to play in the yard. It made me feel like I was all grown up. I used to ask her if she had the charger for the phone because I wanted to be just like her and my mom. My grandmas looked the same my whole life. Short curly hair, barely visible gray hair, small rectangular eyeglasses, big baggy shorts and blouse and dark red nail polish. I wanted to grow up before it was time, little did I know that I was going to get my wish. 

For the past couple of weeks, I noticed that my mom sat in the same chair in the living room around the same time every day. I resemble my mom or maybe she resembled me. That's not the point, back then she had no worry lines or eyebags under her bright brown eyes. Back then her posture was always straight, her hair was always curly, and her skin was always tanned. Buzz, buzz, buzz. I heard my mom's blackberry phone buzz on the brown counter table which reached my forehead. I always stared at that counter because it was so randomly placed next to the blue reclining chair facing a tv in the middle of the living room connecting to the kitchen and also next to the refrigerator may I say. My grandma had clothes scattered everywhere from the couch to her room. I already had 2 left feet tripping even over the oxygen surrounding me. I grabbed a jump room on the worn-out vintage kitchen table and started jumping in the living room. 

My mom picked up the phone with a warm smile connecting every freckle. She started giggling as if her life depended on it. I looked at the counter trying to keep my breath steady and not lose balance. That's when my mom told me to come over and speak to my dad. My mind blanked since my dad was nowhere to be seen. She gave me the phone and I heard my dad's deep loud voice buzz out of it. I smiled in delight that I could hear him, he was gone for so long I think I might have even forgotten about his existence and presence. 

By the end of the conversation, he told me how excited he was since we were going to see each other in the US. That's when everything came to me, it was like a puzzle I didn't know I was solving. All these bits and pieces of memory I had of the puzzle came to me. I was moving. Not just across the street, or to my grandma's house. No this was different, I was leaving. Although I didn’t know what any of it meant. I knew one thing was for sure. I hated change. I always changed, my parents always changed, but I could not, I wouldn't let the stronghold, my family had change. But what else could I do other than nod and smile as the naive child I was. 

Years felt like seconds pass by. Sometimes when I look back at it all I don't want to acknowledge what happened. I don't talk to my grandparents as much because when I do I get reminded of what I lost, my home. There isn't much of my childhood I remember. I held onto these memories as hard as I could because it was the only piece of home I had left in my mind, in my soul. To this day I look at pictures and can’t remember who this young girl laughing and sinking her toes on the beach was. I learned that change is necessary. Although it hurts, there was nothing I could do to change my parents' decision. This choice hardened my heart. It put me in an environment where I had to change and accommodate so I could belong. But it also matured me and helped me further understand others who have gone through something similar. 

Sometimes, I’ll be laying in my room breathing in and out. When I release the air stuck in my lungs I feel a sense of hopelessness. This is because the air I consume is not home. Home is not just a place, it's family. I can't smell my grandma's dusty clothes and my grandpa's cheesy cologne. I can't smell the paint drying on the walls. I can't hear the coqui frogs singing in the night. I can't feel the humid air breathe down my neck. I can't feel the sunburn on my back. I can't hear the vibrating cars on the streets or the lost dogs trying to find shelter because this is not home.

“Ready for bed guys” says Ally

“Yes” responded Aaliyah

All the girls at my dormitory at the orphanage went to bed and wrapped themselves around what was considered a blanket here. I pulled the thin white blanket over my head and hid their typing what is supposed to be my college essay into my phone.

I start out with, “It's been a hard couple of years. Honestly, where should I start? My name is Aaliyah and I'm confused. Now I know there is a lot of gray area in stating my name and saying I'm confused but it's true. The truth is I’m bisexual or maybe I’m heterosexual. I thought I was “experimenting” or that I was, but I wasn’t, not really. One day when I was in the seventh grade I was on the phone with my cousin. Looking at it back now I don’t remember what we were talking about but what I do remember is when he bluntly said I was bi. I was very confused as a 12-year-old girl already. I didn't know what it meant to be “bi”. I didn't want to be. I was ashamed. Coming from a Christian household where marrying anything other than the other gender was a sin, was scary. 

This is not a coming-out story, it's the contrary. I dated a couple of guys through the years, at the time I wasn't sure if it was to keep my mind away from things like school, my family, my friends, and most especially girls and God. I feared them both. I didn't want to fall in love. How could I? I didn't want to betray my family or disappoint them. I was so consumed with what other people thought of me. When I reached the 9th grade I kissed my girl best friend. I told myself it was to distract myself after a breakup or maybe even to keep guys away from her to in a way “protect her” from dangerous men. But that's not why I did it. I was impulsive, more like I am, I thought my actions wouldn't affect others. 

Now in my senior year looking back I realize that I didn't love any of those boys or girls I claimed I kept close to my heart. This is not a coming-of-age story, it's a transition of who I was and who I am. I was confused about what my family believed and what society told me to believe. I didn't know if I deserve to even love anyone else. The truth is, I don't like females, and, in a way, I don't like males right now either. How could anyone love someone else before loving themselves? Even if I was all the acronyms the world has come up with to disfigure themselves out of what society wants us to be it would have been okay. I would have been okay. 

As I lie in bed what is considered “home” here at the orphanery. I recognize and think of all the memories that led me into the place I am now. I am content with the idea that it doesn't matter how many friends you make or how much money you get. If you're not happy with who you are and the things that matter to you, nothing will ever make sense.”

I close out the doc’s tab, hide my phone under my pillow and try my best to fall asleep.

Written: 2021

I came home from school one day and walked up the stairs into my room on the second floor. I was never one to fit in or be patient, I was furious I had greed and resentment in my heart. It was around 3pm in the afternoon when my mother bursted in the room. I don’t remember much looking back at it now, my life was on a constant repeat of my prior mistakes every time she did that. I couldn’t help it, or maybe I could’ve? That day in particular I couldn’t contain my rage. So, I did the only thing I could think of, I ran away. A few hours had passed and that's when I decided to make my way outside into the thundering rain. I walked and walked and at some point, I had lost my way and maybe even lost track of time. But I didn’t care, because I couldn't bear this any longer. I found a dead-end street with a bench on the sidewalk. I sat down there in the pouring rain waiting for something to happen but nothing did. That’s when I saw a boy running towards the same bench. He sat down next to me. I tried not to look at him but I couldn’t help myself. I wasn’t sure if the water on his face was tears or rain. Maybe even both. We sat there in silence for who knows how long. As time went by, we ended up intertwining hands, locking fingers bit by bit. As the day passed by there was a moment where we looked into each other’s eyes and kissed each other. Tasting the tears and rain on each other’s lips. He was passionate, strong but still gentle and polite. He was a stranger yes but I couldn’t think of anyone other than him at that moment. My life was drowning. It was on a cliff stringing to me still and he was my escape. When it became sunrise and the rain had stopped, he got up and walked away. It was sad yes, sad that a stranger became a lover in such a short time. Sad that our kiss got washed away in the rain the day prior. But I don’t regret it. He didn’t heal me, he knew me, he learned the deepest parts of me in a spam of minutes. He was ultimately and extraordinarily beautiful.

Written: 2021

Objective: I received a pink wooden heart in 5th grade from my first ever real best friend. It is one of my most precious objects. I twisted the narrative and wrote how that was given to the most popular girl in school, which happens to be the friend that gave it to me. Instead of me receiving it, I stole it. 

It's mid-November, where leaves fall from tall high up green trees and caterpillars bloom under the dirt. It was just an ordinary day at Silver Road Elementary School. My school was not entirely old but not entirely new either. You can't really call this a small-town kind of school. We were not a big city one either. Maybe one in between it all? My name is Isabella Gutierrez. I can’t say I’ve been in this school for long, but I’ve only been alive for 10 years of my life, so there's not much to go on. This morning I woke up from a deep slumber and decided to execute my plan. This plan was not for a morally correct cause, but it wasn't built off one moment or thought. It was years in the making. After I got ready for school, I asked my mom to bring me to school instead of taking the big yellow bus at the edge of my street only to be tormented by the laughter of others. When she dropped me off at the school, she gave me a look. One I’ve seen far too many times. It was one of worry. Worried about the darkness in my heart, the greed, the jealousy, the addiction, the obsession. I tried not to look into her eyes and see what I already feel. What I know my mom feels every time she lays upon my father's eyes. The same need for lies. I gave her a kiss goodbye and made my way to the portables on the back of the building which were created into classrooms. Today I wore a pink dress, with a big white bow above my right ear in my hair. As I made my way up to class, I was thinking how I never really felt like I fit in this school. I wanted to belong and to be a part of something bigger than myself. But it just never worked out for me. So today I had a plan. My crush Martin Sarchin had painted a pink wooden heart and gave it to the most popular girl in school, Kim Hua. I loathed her for having his affection and bullying me, but I loathed him more for not noticing me. I walked into the portals and placed my backpack against the worn-out beige wall where my cubby was. Kim’s cubby was fortunately right next to mine. Although Kim was just as recent to this school as I was, she made a greater impact. We used to be friends, but I guess when it comes to popularity and being friends with a loser nerd, popularity always wins. My teacher was tall, with a sharp jawline and a slim body. She noticed that today I took a little longer than usual to put my things away, but I didn’t care. I unzipped Kim’s backpack and dug my hand inside. I was looking for the pink wooden heart Martin had gifted her. When I finally found it, I felt joy fill up in the bottom of my stomach. I grabbed and tucked it into my own backpack. In all honesty I’m jealous of her, of him, of them. Every single person that walks into this school and feels like they have friends or someone to rely on. This heart to me means companionship, loyalty, trust, attention. Things that I don't seem to have. I guess