Priya Estrella
by Sabina England, 2012
last night at community college
i sat in a free spanish class.
we studied spanish for 2 hours.
we spoke, we wrote, we chanted en español for 1 hour.
then we had a break.
during the break
i talked to a bunch of women.
all of them, my age, in our mid-to-late 20s.
all of them, they were already married with 1 or more kid(s).
poor bitches, i thought to myself, they must feel trapped.
they listened to me while i talked loudly to one woman in the group.
this woman,
she been married for 6 years and she had 3 kids.
she was my age.
we were both 28.
28!
she was just 28, already had 3 kids and been married for 6 years.
“fuck,” i silently thought to myself, “she must have missed out on so much fun in the past 6 years.”
she shot me a series of questions.
with all that idle boring crap.
awkward.
now there’s
nothing to talk about.
we sat there
feeling awkward.
then she got personal
and asked me personal questions.
none of the women in the group said anything, they stayed silent but they all stared at me, while i loudly talked to the married woman with 3 kids.
the woman asked me how my boyfriend was.
“what boyfriend?” i asked.
she frowned
she claimed that i mentioned i was going out with a guy.
“when did i say that?” i asked
it was last week, in the first lesson in español class, when i came up to her and i introduced myself to her and i told that i was going out with a cute guy from Cuba.
“ooohhh!!!” i replied. “oohhhh. yes... yes... es cierto.”
yes, yes, she was correct. i was going out with a guy for the time being.
a cute guy from Cuba.
a really hot guy, he had light olive skin
and beautiful dark green eyes, muy verdes.
my god, he was such a babe.
that was why i was studying español, so i could learn to seduce and woo my Latin lover.
his name was Juan
and my name was Priya
Juan ‘n Priya
Priya Juan
Juana Priya
Priya Juana
Juano
Juanito
huan
huan
ito
ito
ito
o
o
o
but,
he wasn’t my boyfriend.
fuck no.
i sneered.
i said i didn’t have a boyfriend... but rather, that i had a “special friend.”
then i said i didn’t want a relationship, i feel suffocated in relationships, i like my space. sometimes, men are stupid and annoying, and i hate relationships.
all the women, it took them by surprise.
they were shocked.
“u don’t like relationships, Priya?” the married woman with 3 kids asked me, stunned.
“nope,” i replied.
then, she asked me if i ever wanted to get married someday.
i said, nope, i didn’t want to get married nor do i care about getting married. i hate marriage, i hate the idea of being tied down and forced to settle forever.
all the women, it took them by surprise, too.
they were so shocked.
weddings are stupid and fake and boring, i announced.
they looked extremely offended, like they wanted to smack the shit out of me.
then, the married woman with 3 kids,
she asked me if i wanted to have babies in the future.
i made a face and i said i never wanted to be a mother, and the idea of pregnancy greatly repulsed me.
i made a vomit gesture with my mouth and hands.
“kids get on my fuckin nerves,” i said.
again, all the women, they were offended.
then...
then, one of the women spoke up
you know what she said?
she said i was weird as hell.
to which i smiled and i whispered, “yes.. i’m weird, i’m a freak, i am gonna go to Hell.”
then i roared with laughter
and i jumped out of my seat
and i did a little tap dance in my bright blue Doc Marten creepers.
“i hate children!” i screamed. “i hate relationships!”
“what do you want to be when you grow up?” the married woman with 3 kids asked me, “when you get much older?”
“i want to run away to Hong Kong,” i told her. “and i want to live in one of those super high-rise apartments high above the skyline of the city. i want to eat noodles everyday and look out the window. i want to study Cantonese and make deep, passionate love to one of these fishermen in his boat on the bay by Kowloon..”
“but you don’t want a relationship, Priya?”
“well, honey, at the moment, no,” i said. “but later on in life, maybe when i turn 50, then i will be ready to have a companion in my life.”
“when you’re 50?!” the married woman with 3 kids exclaimed. “but you’ll be old. nobody will want you.”
“bitch, you are wrong,” i screamed at her. “when i turn 50, i will still be sexy, smart, and funny and i’m gonna wear sexy clothes and i will seduce young men and one of them will be my lovers.”
“but, when you grow old, who will take care of you?” she asked, her eyes brimming with tears. “what if you end up in a nursing home and the nurse is cruel and abusive toward you? what if nobody comes to visit you?”
“when i grow old,” i told her. “i will continue to travel the world until i collapse to my knees, whether it’s somewhere in Bolivia or Mongolia. when i die, my body will decompose and become part of the earth, and then my soul will be transported to the heavens above.”
“to the heavens above? then you must believe in God?” she asked me.
i laughed so hard.
“God is fake!” i yelled. i slammed my desk so hard. “what i’m saying, is that when i die, my soul will become part of the cosmos.”
“oh.”
“when i die, i want you to look up at the sky at night and think about me. u will find me amongst the stars.”
“okay.”
“me llamo Priya. yo espero que voy a ser una estrella.”
the teacher came back into the classroom,
we resumed studying spanish.
we spoke, we wrote, we chanted en español for 1 hour.
the woman,
who been married for 6 years
with 3 kids,
she stared at me
all night
daydreaming of
me
turning
into
a
star.
by Sabina England, 2012
last night at community college
i sat in a free spanish class.
we studied spanish for 2 hours.
we spoke, we wrote, we chanted en español for 1 hour.
then we had a break.
during the break
i talked to a bunch of women.
all of them, my age, in our mid-to-late 20s.
all of them, they were already married with 1 or more kid(s).
poor bitches, i thought to myself, they must feel trapped.
they listened to me while i talked loudly to one woman in the group.
this woman,
she been married for 6 years and she had 3 kids.
she was my age.
we were both 28.
28!
she was just 28, already had 3 kids and been married for 6 years.
“fuck,” i silently thought to myself, “she must have missed out on so much fun in the past 6 years.”
she shot me a series of questions.
with all that idle boring crap.
how are you
how’s your family
how’s work going
do you enjoy studying spanish
blah blah
the weather is very nice
yes it is.
awkward, awkwardawkward.
now there’s
nothing to talk about.
we sat there
feeling awkward.
then she got personal
and asked me personal questions.
none of the women in the group said anything, they stayed silent but they all stared at me, while i loudly talked to the married woman with 3 kids.
the woman asked me how my boyfriend was.
“what boyfriend?” i asked.
she frowned
she claimed that i mentioned i was going out with a guy.
“when did i say that?” i asked
it was last week, in the first lesson in español class, when i came up to her and i introduced myself to her and i told that i was going out with a cute guy from Cuba.
“ooohhh!!!” i replied. “oohhhh. yes... yes... es cierto.”
yes, yes, she was correct. i was going out with a guy for the time being.
a cute guy from Cuba.
a really hot guy, he had light olive skin
and beautiful dark green eyes, muy verdes.
my god, he was such a babe.
that was why i was studying español, so i could learn to seduce and woo my Latin lover.
his name was Juan
and my name was Priya
Juan ‘n Priya
Priya Juan
Juana Priya
Priya Juana
Juano
Juanito
huan
huan
ito
ito
ito
o
o
o
but,
he wasn’t my boyfriend.
fuck no.
i sneered.
i said i didn’t have a boyfriend... but rather, that i had a “special friend.”
then i said i didn’t want a relationship, i feel suffocated in relationships, i like my space. sometimes, men are stupid and annoying, and i hate relationships.
all the women, it took them by surprise.
they were shocked.
“u don’t like relationships, Priya?” the married woman with 3 kids asked me, stunned.
“nope,” i replied.
then, she asked me if i ever wanted to get married someday.
i said, nope, i didn’t want to get married nor do i care about getting married. i hate marriage, i hate the idea of being tied down and forced to settle forever.
all the women, it took them by surprise, too.
they were so shocked.
weddings are stupid and fake and boring, i announced.
they looked extremely offended, like they wanted to smack the shit out of me.
then, the married woman with 3 kids,
she asked me if i wanted to have babies in the future.
i made a face and i said i never wanted to be a mother, and the idea of pregnancy greatly repulsed me.
i made a vomit gesture with my mouth and hands.
“kids get on my fuckin nerves,” i said.
again, all the women, they were offended.
then...
then, one of the women spoke up
you know what she said?
she said i was weird as hell.
to which i smiled and i whispered, “yes.. i’m weird, i’m a freak, i am gonna go to Hell.”
then i roared with laughter
and i jumped out of my seat
and i did a little tap dance in my bright blue Doc Marten creepers.
“i hate children!” i screamed. “i hate relationships!”
“what do you want to be when you grow up?” the married woman with 3 kids asked me, “when you get much older?”
“i want to run away to Hong Kong,” i told her. “and i want to live in one of those super high-rise apartments high above the skyline of the city. i want to eat noodles everyday and look out the window. i want to study Cantonese and make deep, passionate love to one of these fishermen in his boat on the bay by Kowloon..”
“but you don’t want a relationship, Priya?”
“well, honey, at the moment, no,” i said. “but later on in life, maybe when i turn 50, then i will be ready to have a companion in my life.”
“when you’re 50?!” the married woman with 3 kids exclaimed. “but you’ll be old. nobody will want you.”
“bitch, you are wrong,” i screamed at her. “when i turn 50, i will still be sexy, smart, and funny and i’m gonna wear sexy clothes and i will seduce young men and one of them will be my lovers.”
“but, when you grow old, who will take care of you?” she asked, her eyes brimming with tears. “what if you end up in a nursing home and the nurse is cruel and abusive toward you? what if nobody comes to visit you?”
“when i grow old,” i told her. “i will continue to travel the world until i collapse to my knees, whether it’s somewhere in Bolivia or Mongolia. when i die, my body will decompose and become part of the earth, and then my soul will be transported to the heavens above.”
“to the heavens above? then you must believe in God?” she asked me.
i laughed so hard.
“God is fake!” i yelled. i slammed my desk so hard. “what i’m saying, is that when i die, my soul will become part of the cosmos.”
“oh.”
“when i die, i want you to look up at the sky at night and think about me. u will find me amongst the stars.”
“okay.”
“me llamo Priya. yo espero que voy a ser una estrella.”
the teacher came back into the classroom,
we resumed studying spanish.
we spoke, we wrote, we chanted en español for 1 hour.
the woman,
who been married for 6 years
with 3 kids,
she stared at me
all night
daydreaming of
me
turning
into
a
star.
