Bright Lines by Tanwi Nandini Islam Page B

by the Brights. But it loomed the same as it always did,alongside sister row houses, each a slight mutation of the other. On his brownstone were simple rose engravings; on his neighbor’s, the head of a lion; wrought iron fences twisted into fleur-de-lis spears. Anwar sat on his stoop. The summer shower had heightened the scent of the trees on his block, and on humid nights like this, there was no place he’d rather be.

8
    T hey celebrated Maya’s golden birthday, her eighteenth, on the eighteenth of July, with a small picnic at Fort Greene Park. Despite having to witness Charu and Malik making out on a blanket for much of the afternoon, Ella was impressed at the small, devoted group who came out to celebrate with Maya. They came from wholly different parts of her life—her friends from Bushwick High School, friends from her volunteer stint at the local daycare, friends from Arabic school (where she and Charu had originally met, during Charu’s failed two months of Quranic study), and Maya’s ex-boyfriend, who was now gay. They’d known each other since they were in fifth grade; their mothers had been friends back in Egypt. Halim’s hair was a crown of black ringlets doused in peppermint hair gel. He wore a tight black tank with an even tighter pair of acid-washed jeans. He was lying on the blanket, propped up on his elbows. His boyfriend, a silent young man in retro sunglasses named Marque, was resting his head on Halim’s hip. The boy gave a faint smile, and went back to playing his Game Boy.
    “We were fast friends, yeah, until I broke down during My Own Private Idaho , and was like, I am so gay,” Halim told Ella, laughing. “But now, she’s my wife for life.” He swatted Maya’s knee. “I don’t see you anymore.”
    “Ay, I’ve been working. Hanging with these girls,” said Maya. “Besides, you’ve all but disappeared with this new boy in your life.”
    “Sure. But things are good? I feel like I haven’t talked to you since—” Halim faltered. “Sorry.”
    “Let’s just cut this cake.” Maya gave his hand a squeeze.
    “Cut the cake, guys!” said Charu, coming up for air.
    “Red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting?” asked Malik, following suit, lips stained hot pink.
    Everyone laughed, but still Halim looked at Maya. “Just tell me you’re okay.”
    “I’m okay,” she said.
     * * * 
    When the girls arrived at home that evening, Anwar and Hashi were still out at a dinner party on Long Island. Charu went upstairs to work on her clothing line, leaving Maya and Ella to themselves. They sat on lawn chairs in the backyard, speaking little. Speckled violet and salmon clouds filled the evening sky, and dissonant playlists escaped from backyards on Cambridge Place. While daytime had been dank and muggy, the evening air felt less thick. Ella took off her glasses, blinked a few times. Perhaps it was the shift in humidity, or the neighborhood’s babble—her visions had commenced for the evening. She tried to make it stop by blinking, then shutting her eyes tight. No use.
    “Are you all right?” asked Maya. “Do you have a headache or something?”
    “No. I’m just having an—episode.”
    “What kind of episode?”
    “It’s weird.”
    “Well, if you couldn’t tell by my friends today, I like weird. So try me.”
    “Ha. Well . . . I’m hallucinating, as we speak.”
    Maya smiled, and the gap in her front teeth opened wide into a river mouth, with pebbles spilling out onto the ground. “What are you seeing?”
    “Shit that’s nonsense. Right now there’s tiny elfin creatures building a pyramid of rhododendron flowers, and the seed bank looks like it’s stitched out of silk dragon kites. The sky is this portal brewing like a witch’s cauldron, and shiny specks are bubbling in it.”
    “Wow. That’s insane. How long does this last? How long has this been happening? Do you need a doctor?”
    “It’s been happening forever, since I came to the States.”
    “After