what she said, even if it meant separating himself from her, and pleaded that she never ask such a thing of him. The dance sped up, and she breathed with her mouth: a smell of fresh fish, beloved by both their cultures, poured forth like a promise.
Katya
Katya may have been out of it but she wasn’t too out of it to know what she saw when she looked at her sister and that Indian guy. The way he looked up at Yana was the way no one would ever look up at Katya unless they were her children, and then it would only be because they were hungry, her children would be hungry, of course. Although it was a fast song, she was not happy like she had been once in a while at raves. Which was a good thing, of course. At least now Katya could drink some champagne. Before, Yana had covered her glass when the waiters came by.
Her father was looking at her. She smiled and twirled her fingers around the sides of her head like “pa-aarty,” but he frowned. She rested her chin on her clasped hands like Audrey Hepburn as a waiter filled her glass. If that didn’t reassure him, nothing would. Who wouldn’t want Audrey Hepburn for a daughter?
Yana pinched her shoulder. She must have fallen asleep again. “You’re up next,” Yana said. “All right?”
“Oh, I feel very restored now,” Katya said, because it was an Audrey Hepburn thing to say, and because she did feel all right. She mounted the stage, almost bumping into the cute, cute! keyboard player. “Let’s go, boys.”
As the music began, Katya saw her mother, standing in a little circle of her own, staring at Katya as if Katya were her Barbie Dream House, her mansion. And when her mother saw that Katya saw, she smiled and began shrugging her shoulders in jerky little motions.
Katya opened her mouth, which still felt sour from the coffee, but it didn’t matter. She sang about having all her sisters with her and pointed her thumbs to the side, just like the Sister Sledge girls did in the video, only there were no sisters over there.
She sang about everyone getting up and singing, and her mother tugged her father up from his chair, and her mother’s mouth opened to sing. Her mother would do anything the song told her to do.
The next few lines were easier, and the dancing felt more natural, now that people in the audience were dancing, too. Milla came close to the stage, shyly bumping hips with her new husband. Even Baba Byata stood and clapped and nodded. The next line was about a family dose of love, and it was telling her she’d been right to take those pills, and the chorus rolled forth like a pill down a hill. High! High hopes they had — for the future, and their goals in sight.
Katya wanted to say they were more than family, they were ancient, they were powerful — “We are mastodons,” she sang, and pointed, with both hands, at the brown bones.
“Oh, I can’t hear you now.” It was strange: singing those words actually made it hard to hear, as if they had cast a spell. Where were they in the music? She couldn’t really move around anymore: it was as if she’d been transformed into that hateful fourth Sister Sledge sister, the one with short hair who always had to dance in the back. Her stomach felt too light, and the music stopped, even though she hadn’t sung about feathers yet.
People clapped, but not a lot, or maybe she still couldn’t hear very well. She tried to jump off the stage but someone caught and lowered her down. Yana was walking over to her. Yana was a good sister, but a bit of a narc. “Ya-narc,” Katya possibly said aloud, and then turned around and ran away. At least, she told herself to run, but she could still see her shoes, which suggested that maybe she was not.
“Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me,” she heard Yana saying behind her, and then she didn’t hear her anymore. Glancing back, Katya saw that Yana had gotten tangled up in a bunch of their grandmother’s friends. This was her chance for freedom.
Katya
Katya may have been out of it but she wasn’t too out of it to know what she saw when she looked at her sister and that Indian guy. The way he looked up at Yana was the way no one would ever look up at Katya unless they were her children, and then it would only be because they were hungry, her children would be hungry, of course. Although it was a fast song, she was not happy like she had been once in a while at raves. Which was a good thing, of course. At least now Katya could drink some champagne. Before, Yana had covered her glass when the waiters came by.
Her father was looking at her. She smiled and twirled her fingers around the sides of her head like “pa-aarty,” but he frowned. She rested her chin on her clasped hands like Audrey Hepburn as a waiter filled her glass. If that didn’t reassure him, nothing would. Who wouldn’t want Audrey Hepburn for a daughter?
Yana pinched her shoulder. She must have fallen asleep again. “You’re up next,” Yana said. “All right?”
“Oh, I feel very restored now,” Katya said, because it was an Audrey Hepburn thing to say, and because she did feel all right. She mounted the stage, almost bumping into the cute, cute! keyboard player. “Let’s go, boys.”
As the music began, Katya saw her mother, standing in a little circle of her own, staring at Katya as if Katya were her Barbie Dream House, her mansion. And when her mother saw that Katya saw, she smiled and began shrugging her shoulders in jerky little motions.
Katya opened her mouth, which still felt sour from the coffee, but it didn’t matter. She sang about having all her sisters with her and pointed her thumbs to the side, just like the Sister Sledge girls did in the video, only there were no sisters over there.
She sang about everyone getting up and singing, and her mother tugged her father up from his chair, and her mother’s mouth opened to sing. Her mother would do anything the song told her to do.
The next few lines were easier, and the dancing felt more natural, now that people in the audience were dancing, too. Milla came close to the stage, shyly bumping hips with her new husband. Even Baba Byata stood and clapped and nodded. The next line was about a family dose of love, and it was telling her she’d been right to take those pills, and the chorus rolled forth like a pill down a hill. High! High hopes they had — for the future, and their goals in sight.
Katya wanted to say they were more than family, they were ancient, they were powerful — “We are mastodons,” she sang, and pointed, with both hands, at the brown bones.
“Oh, I can’t hear you now.” It was strange: singing those words actually made it hard to hear, as if they had cast a spell. Where were they in the music? She couldn’t really move around anymore: it was as if she’d been transformed into that hateful fourth Sister Sledge sister, the one with short hair who always had to dance in the back. Her stomach felt too light, and the music stopped, even though she hadn’t sung about feathers yet.
People clapped, but not a lot, or maybe she still couldn’t hear very well. She tried to jump off the stage but someone caught and lowered her down. Yana was walking over to her. Yana was a good sister, but a bit of a narc. “Ya-narc,” Katya possibly said aloud, and then turned around and ran away. At least, she told herself to run, but she could still see her shoes, which suggested that maybe she was not.
“Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me,” she heard Yana saying behind her, and then she didn’t hear her anymore. Glancing back, Katya saw that Yana had gotten tangled up in a bunch of their grandmother’s friends. This was her chance for freedom.
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