Vanessa Martir

Woman's Cry


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Time to blow up the literary world! Let’s do this!

      To all those who’ve crossed my path and helped shape the characters in this story and those to come, friends and foes alike, good lookin’ out! And to the world, follow your heart’s longing and the cosmos will pave the way for you. Believe it, manifest it! Hunt it, stalk it like a tiger does its prey! Then sink your teeth into it and let it nourish your soul. Blessed be!

       1

      I twirled the curl at the end of my braid as I stared blankly at the page before me. I’d read the same sentence at least ten times but couldn’t manage to get into it. The text wasn’t particularly difficult; it’s just that my mind was elsewhere. I looked around the train station thinking that since I couldn’t focus on my studies, I may as well people-watch. I noticed a young woman sitting on the other side of the bench. A backpack on her lap, she was engrossed by the book she was reading. So much so that she didn’t even notice me staring at her. She was a young Latina like me, probably in her first or second year at Columbia University. I couldn’t help but wonder what her life was like, where she was going. If only I were in her shoes and not in mine. If only I could go back to my first years at Columbia knowing what I now knew.

      I was only two months shy of graduating from one of the most prestigious schools in the country and though this was supposed to be one of the happiest times of my life, I felt stuck and confused, like I was being pulled in opposing directions. A foreboding feeling of angst was wearing at me, not letting me concentrate. I had been living two lives for my entire college career and now more than ever I was feeling the effects. I was in love with a drug dealer and had spent five heart wrenching years trying to do right by him and living the street life while simultaneously going to school full time. I’d been through it with him, from him cheating on me left and right to him putting his hands on me and I’d forgiven him for it all, but now I was staring my future in the face and it didn’t look as promising as it once did. I couldn’t help but feel that everything was going to hit the fan soon and I didn’t know how I was going to deal. I sighed deeply and stood up as the train roared into the station.

      “Uptown #1 Train.. Next stop 125th Street,” announced the conductor as the doors closed behind me.

      I looked around and immediately spotted the cutie checking me out. I glanced at my reflection in the window and smirked. My long hair was parted down the middle, neatly braided Pocahontas style. I wore a white DKNY tank top and a low rise, fitted gray DKNY sweat suit with Classic K-Swiss sneakers. My flat mid section was exposed enough to reveal a pierced belly button and tight abs. I’m not conceited but I know I’m not ugly. Actually I’m quite attractive but never let that go to my head. I’m most proud of my intelligence and ability to survive and thrive despite the arduous circumstances that seem to constantly plague my existence.

      “Would you like to sit down, Pocahontas?” asked the cutie. He was sitting in the seat next to the door I was leaning on.

      I smiled shyly. “No, I’m okay, hun. I’ve been sitting for a while so I’m good for now but thanks for the offer.”

      “No problem. Just trying to be a gentleman,” flirted the sweet looking Latino.

      I glanced around and couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t extended his “gentlemanliness” to any of the other females that were standing up. A couple of them shot hateful eyes at me but I opted to take my usual route and ignored them. I was used to being envied and learned long ago that the best thing to do was to disregard it altogether.

      “Is that a book on Buddhism you’re reading?” asked the lindo pointing at the book in my hands.

      I eyed him curiously. I’d noticed his good looks immediately upon entering the train but as I peeped him now, I couldn’t help but stare. He was even more handsome than I initially realized. His curly hair was cut into a short blow out. His beard was neatly trimmed and cut close to frame his jaw and he had a goatee that only complimented his full, kissable lips. Damn, I mused silently. If only I were single! I checked him out from head to toe. He wore a cream colored guayabera with dark jeans and what I could swear were Kenneth Cole shoes. Mmmmm! Damn, I loved me some pretty boys but I’d never been unfaithful before despite what I’d been through with Fabian and I was not about to start now.

      I glanced down at the book and observed that the cover was exposed. Buddha sat meditatively on a lotus flower. “Yeah, it’s for a class I’m taking,” I responded, blushing. I realized that I’d been sizing him up and my response was delayed long enough for him to notice. Shit! I was slipping in my game. I hadn’t been in the game for so long that I hardly knew what I was doing anymore.

      He smirked. “Let me guess, Indo-Tibetan Buddhism, right?”

      I did a double take. Let me find out! What could he possibly know about that, I wondered.

      “Shocked you didn’t I?” he added quickly as if reading my mind. “I took a similar class when I was at NYU. So, you’re a student at Columbia?” he asked.

      I was taken aback. ¡Coño! He’s fine and he’s learned. That’s what I need in my life. I thought about my man and pursed my lips in frustration. “Yeah, I’m graduating in two months if all goes well.”

      “That’s what’s up. Beauty and brains! You’re a full package, aren’t you? So, I’m assuming you’re off the market ‘cause a female as fly as you couldn’t possibly be single.” His voice gave away a lingering hope that he was wrong.

      “Yeah, you got that right,” I said begrudgingly.

      “Too bad. I would have loved to take you out to vibe intellectually.” He didn’t make the least attempt to hide his disappointment.

      “Thanks, pa, but no thanks. I don’t cheat. It’s just not my style.” I struggled to hide the hint of reluctance in my voice but knew I’d failed miserably. I hoped he didn’t pick up on the bitterness but in the back of my mind I knew that these days it was written all over my face.

      “Well, my name is Ruben. I hope we meet in the next lifetime. Stay beautiful and true,” he said longingly as he got up. “This is my stop. I’ll pray to Buddha that we’ll meet again someday soon and hopefully, by then you would have shed yourself of those chains that bind you.” He winked at me as he stepped off the train. “Wait, what’s your name?” He held the door open with his foot.

      “India.” My face flushed with bashfulness. He nodded knowingly and we stared at one another mesmerized as the doors closed. Our eyes didn’t break their gaze until the train pulled off.

      See, that’s what I need in my life, I thought to myself as I sat down in the still-warm seat that Ruben had been sitting in. A man with a future and intelligence, one that can stimulate me during the first few moments of an encounter is most definitely someone I’d like to get to know. If only I were single. If only my heart was open to that and not caught up in some drug dealer’s grip. ¡Máldita sea!

      I glanced around the train again and saw that the haters were still glaring at me with nasty sneers on their lips. Two of them were blatantly bashing me, gossiping into one another’s ears and cutting their eyes at me.

      You wouldn’t want to be in my shoes ladies. Hate me all you want but I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat if I could. I shook my head in disgust and pulled out my iPod. I’d decided to give up on reading. My mind just wasn’t cooperating and it was obvious I wasn’t going to get anything done in this state. I listened to some old-school freestyle while my mind wandered over the shambles that was my life.

       2

      “¡Perra!” a female voice yelled as I stepped off the train at Dyckman Street. I didn’t have to look back to know that the slur was directed at me. I always wondered why chicks were always so spiteful towards one another. After all, wasn’t there ample space in the sky for all the stars to shine? I had problems with females all my life. I couldn’t count the times I’d thrown