Return It to where It Persists

By Sarah Gozar

Christine is famous in her neighborhood for her sparkly Disney Princess shirts, brand new pairs of flip-flops, and her abundance of American canned goods that come in the balikbayang boxes her two overseas nurse sisters sent from the States to their family in the Philippines. She’s famous for her resemblance to her semi-famous older brother: an actor who shares her pale skin, tall and skinny build, sharp pointed nose, and round eyes.

Maria. Maria is ordinary. Maria is like the other kids. Her flip-flops are faded, worn till the shape of her feet imprint the rubber bed. Her elbows point through her brown skin.

They’re seven years old when Christine bounces her glittery pink ball towards Maria. Maria catches it, feeling the gaze of Christine’s mother linger longer on her more than her own daughter. Maria clutches the ball harder and stares exaggeratedly at Christine’s right shoulder. Christine doesn’t notice Maria’s intentions until the ball softly hits her shoulder. She makes a comment of lighthearted betrayal before hurling the ball at Maria.

But she misses repeatedly.

They’re both laughing when Christine makes her last attempt, but this time, Maria doesn’t remember if Christine misses. Christine’s chubby cheeks flush a very faint light pink and Maria is once again reminded of how beautiful she is.

When they turn seventeen, Christine tells her mom that she’s heading to school early to study before class starts. Her mom walks her out the front door and glances at the house down the street. Maria’s house. She runs a hand through her daughter’s hair as she says goodbye.

That’s how Maria finds Christine at her house, spraying and swiping a comb through her bangs in front of Maria’s mirror. They have fifteen minutes until they leave for school.

“How are you going to hide the hairspray and use it later?”

Christine smiles at Maria. “I’ll hide it beneath my mattress. And I can spare some time at your place to put it on right before I go to school, right?” She winks at her. Maria looks unimpressed. Humming, she adds one last spray then picks out a few strands to hang over her forehead. “Want to try it?” Christine shakes the bottle in front of her face.

Tiny droplets of product end up in Maria’s frizzy hair. She raises her eyebrows. “If I could style my hair, I would have bought my own hairspray.”

Chritine shoves the bottle into her backpack. “Oh, right. I’m sorry.” She bites her lip, trying to hide the pink blooming on her cheeks. Maria leans closer to her and sweeps back a stray strand.

“It looks good on you.” She smiles. “Any style will look good on you. And you have a nice voice too. You can be more famous than your brother.”

Christine frowns. “I’m not into showbiz. I’m talentless. And too many actors our age are already showing their bodies.”

Maria nods her head, eyeing the deepening blush on her face. “You’re too pure for it.” She holds Christine’s wrist. “And that’s a good thing. Stay that way.”

At their all-girls school, they’re homogenous. They sit beside each other in their matching white-collar shirts, blue neckties, and grey angle-length skirts.

“Christine?” Maria taps her shoulder against Christine’s. Christine blinks, refocusing her hazy vision on Maria’s face. Thick droplets of sweat trickle down their faces. It’s gym class, and their last names are first on the student attendance sheet. They’ve long finished their laps around the track, so they wait for the rest of the class to finish theirs.

They stare at each other from the corners of their eyes. Maria eyes the shape of Christine’s shirt; it hangs loosely over her abdomen and shoulders but full at the chest. Maria glances at her own.

Christine simply examines Maria’s face. She takes a breath but tries to pass it off as a sigh. “What is it?”

Maria scoots closer to her until their knees touch. She notices the sweat loosening Christine’s bangs. For a moment, Maria smells pinewood and lavender. Then, aware of her own sour musk, she scoots back three centimeters.

Christine’s eyebrows raise a little. She feels the rest of her hair fall forward, straight, and neat, as her mom would have liked it. In the end, Maria says nothing. Christine walks ahead, her black hair swaying against her white shirt.

After school, Christine heads to the supermarket to buy her mother’s groceries. She’s left with enough change to treat herself, but she has no appetite. She wants to forget how Maria finished her quiz before everyone else, only to get kicked out of the classroom for letting out an obnoxiously loud yawn.

When class ended, Maria was still kneeling in the hallway with her hands above her head. Christine handed Maria her backpack.

Maria smiled at her. “See you later, Christine.”

Christine can already hear her mother’s voice.

“You should at least be as smart as your sisters. It’s a waste that you look like your brother when you’re talentless.  And you’re a girl, so you’re easy to influence. Aye, why are you like this?”

But to think I failed, even without a curfew, even though I study the moment I get home till I go to bed.

Christine approaches the gate of her house.

If Maria’s hair was still straight, I could had styled her bangs. We could be matching. If  Maria was—

“By my side.”

The first thing she sees on her doorstep is Maria smiling smugly at her mother. Her eyes crinkle the same way they did when they were children: slender, sharp tipped crescents.

Christine sets her groceries on the ground. Maria turns around. Her gaze shifts from spite to pity as their eyes meet. But before Maria can speak, Christine catches her with a tight hand wrapped around her wrist. She leads her down to the corner they met.

Maria’s face looks the same: plump, heart-shaped lips, striking eyes, a soft-tipped nose.

A bunny’s nose, Christine thinks. Christine thinks that her face must also look the same as before, foreign yet familiar.

They speak in hushed voices.

“Why?” Christine’s leans her head against Maria’s shoulder. “What if I really can’t see you after this?” Christine reaches for Maria’s hand.

Maria sighs. “I used to be jealous of you. You’re beautiful, and you never went hungry. Then, I saw that mini display of China sets, and I felt disgusted.” Christine flinches. “I know that money came from your brother. That’s just what actors do. But—”

“I’m not fit for showbiz. And what about you? How can you talk to me like this when you’re acting like that in school? You’re smart enough to be a nurse, but your attitude—”

Maria opens her mouth, then shuts it. She chuckles. “Why do you even need me?”

“Why can’t I?”

They hear a ball bounce against the concrete. A pair of little girls are playing together. One of them is brown, and the other is pale.

About the Author...

Sarah Gozar is a 12th grade Creative Writer at Douglas Anderson School of the Arts. Her works, primarily narrative fiction, handles themes such as girlhood and social commentary regarding her culture as a Filipino American. Because she's born and raised in America, she prefers to look at her works that take place in the Philippines as a personal exploration of her culture. Not as a work to properly represent the Philippines itself.

About the Artist...

Violeta Estrada Rios is a senior at Savannah Arts Academy. Her favorite medium to use is oil paint. However, she loves to paint with acrylic just as much.