Story Excerpt: A Chance to Chase the Sun
CHAPTER 1- WILLOW
The morning in New York City unfurled with an orchestra of urban chaos: blaring car horns mingled with cascading voices in an accelerated frenzy. The sun struggled to pierce through the thick cityscape, still somehow managing to radiate through the blinds to cast a warm hue throughout Willow's room. The sun’s light spread across Willow’s tight coils, its glow nudged her awake from the grasp of sleep. On today of all days, Willow didn’t mind. She welcomed the filtered warmth with a wide smile and a sigh of relief. Today wasn't about the mundane routine of school; today was the start of an adventure much needed, one that started with Willow catching her 9 AM flight from JFK airport. Willow, with her bags meticulously packed and anticipation coursing through her veins, had been poised for this moment for just under three months, ever since the day the flight was booked. She was set to explore the streets of the Dominican Republic, a new world across the sea.
At seventeen, Willow bore the marks of what adolescence looked like in 2019; cystic acne mapping her fair-skinned cheeks, chipped nail polish, her eyebrows sharply drawn on, smudged mascara from the day before, and a fresh tattoo hidden atop her left ribcage. Her round face and bellypoke betrayed her indulgence in the sweetness of life, although she would still throw on a bikini when the time permitted. Despite her youth, Willow was a deep thinker, and she feared being swallowed up by the city that shaped her. However, Willow never truly had enough time alone with her thoughts.
“Good morning!” Willow’s sister sang from the bottom bunk.
“Good morning!” Willow responded with excitement, to which she was immediately met with “I’m not talking to you.” Willow could hear her sister roll over in her bed and begin her morning rant into her phone. Willow rolled her eyes and then out of bed.
Then Willow’s phone chimed causing her lips to curve into a smile at the sight of Lisbeth's message. "Chica! ¿Estás lista?" it exclaimed a question that, to Willow, carried more weight and even more possibility. With a flicker of anticipation igniting within her, Willow responded not with words, but with an animated meme, a silent affirmation of her readiness that transcended language.
As Willow made her way to the bathroom, the atmosphere in the cramped apartment seemed to hum with activity. The air was infused with the aroma of hot grits and sizzling bacon cooking on the stove, a familiar sign that her mother had been up long before the household. With practiced efficiency, Willow could visualize her mother moving about the kitchen, a culinary robot operating on nothing but black coffee for fuel. Willow's nieces, a whirlwind of energy, darted across the living room with untamed enthusiasm. Their laughter echoed off the walls, serving as an alarm clock to anyone who wasn’t already awake. With each playful shriek, they left a trail of scattered dolls and Legos in their wake.
With a resigned smile, Willow made her way to the kitchen, where her mother greeted her with a knowing glance and a steaming plate. As she settled into her seat at the table, the constant ringing of the phone served as the backdrop to their morning ritual, a constant reminder of the outside world clamoring for their attention. A world Willow was about to see- to really see- for the first time.
–
"So remember," Lisbeth whispered eagerly as we nestled into our seats aboard the plane. "We're heading to my abuela's house first; 'abuela' works just fine. You're going to meet a lot of my family. And get ready to be labeled as 'Americana princesa' more times than you can count."
"I wish I was an American princess," Willow chuckled softly.
"To them, you are."
Lisbeth's excitement was palpable, each syllable she uttered infused with the vivid hues of her anticipation. Yet beneath the surface, was that a tinge of apprehension? After all, it had been years since she last set foot on Dominican soil. Would her cousins recognize her instantly, or would the passage of time cast a veil of unfamiliarity over their reunion? And what of her accent? Would it resonate harmoniously with the cadence of their voices, or would it stand out like a discordant note in their symphony of speech?
Lisbeth's tales of her hometown, Monabao, had created a feeling of longing in Willow's mind. Nestled in the countryside, not far from the capital, Monabao beckoned with promises of tranquility and familial warmth. It was a place where time seemed to dance to a slower rhythm, where the embrace of loved ones awaited. Willow's imagination swirled, eager to escape the cacophony of New York City life and immerse herself in the serenity of rural simplicity.
In the recesses of her mind, Willow couldn't help but ponder the absence of her brother, Raquan, from their journey. Though he had shown little interest in accompanying them, Willow could tell Lisbeth harbored a silent longing for his presence. Yet she also harbored a silent dread, aware that their unconventional living situation would likely draw judgment from her more traditional relatives. How would this clash of cultures shape Willow's experience in the days to come? She swallowed hard, a silent acknowledgment of the challenges that lay ahead. Indeed, the next three weeks promised to be a captivating journey through the landscapes of both heart and mind.
