There was no sunlight that day, and flowers with banners naming the giver had no aroma. The Godfather theme music played in Maria's head while a cast of characters, like sepia photos in her mother's ... [+]
Tears stream down her face as she tries to finish a paper due at midnight. An overwhelming sadness consumes her. She's finally found the one she wants to keep forever, the one who signals to her parents that she's growing up. Tensions rise as she pushes the boundaries, spending time with him, growing close.
Before, she never understood how people pick one partner to marry for life. She knows of married people, of course, but she never truly understood how that can happen. She's never met anyone worthy of that lifetime commitment, until now. When she met him, everything started to make sense. All of the previous heartaches were appetizers to meeting him.
A man so incredibly loving is what she needed all along. A man who provides a consistent kind of love and care that she never has to question. It's an honor to be loved by him, and she's come to accept that she is deserving of it all. His jokes, his pretty smile and face, his laugh, his presence, she wants forever. She didn't know unrelenting love could exist outside of her parents.
Her parents are immigrants. They came to America in their 20s and 30s to provide better opportunities for her and her brother. She's been a front-row audience member to their hard work and dedication to provide a stable life in this country.
A deep gratitude for the life she has due to her parent's sacrifices radiates through her body. They have given her everything–except emotional care. Her parents leave little room for complex conversation–less validation of her thoughts, emotions, less curiosity about her life or her point of view, and more one-way communication of how things are and will be.
After a date night, she's five minutes from his apartment when her stomach turns sour from a delicious pizza filled with ricotta. She turns the car around, goes back to his place, and calls her parents to let them know she might stay. It's late.
They're furious. How dare she? Unmarried, and already pushing the limits. Come home now.
In a warm bed, she tears up in his arms as their words echo in her mind. His tone is gentle; his hand strokes her hair. "It's okay, my love," he whispers. He gets the culture. He understands that his girlfriend is someone's precious daughter. He DoorDashed Pedialyte, Gatorade, and contact solution, preparing for a stay that ends up being imaginary. He holds her until she's calm and well enough to drive. She leaves at 2 a.m., eyelids heavy from sleepiness and sadness.
Her dating life has been in shambles since junior high and she finally has the one. Time and time again, she's been treated like dirt. This time feels different. She tries to do everything right. She tries to make her parents proud. She introduces him to her family, they love him. They invite him to birthdays, into their home. But stay at his house? Never.
It's confusing, growing up in Fort Worth, Texas, with parents from Georgetown, Guyana. Her culture is a messy blend of American, Indian, and Caribbean values. Her parents aren't the strictest, but they aren't the most flexible either. She never quite knows what she should or shouldn't do. Looking at how they treat her older brother is pointless, he can do anything. He's a king, flawless by default. Her parents' expectations for her are vague mysteries, so she overcorrects.
She works tirelessly. She's a good kid. She attends graduate school, supports herself, commutes an hour each way. She drinks but doesn't do drugs. She has a good career ahead of her. Her days are filled with clients, work, and homework. Like many children of immigrants, she has a work ethic to a fault.
Still, in these moments, they make her feel like she's asking for too much, like she's asking for something blasphemous. She wonders why she works so hard to keep up appearances when one request to stay over can undo years of being "the good child."
The next day, she has no words when her parents come home from work. The silence stretches through until night. Later, her father comes into her room and preaches about morality, about respect, about being unmarried. He threatens a curfew of midnight if she "keeps this up." His tone leaves no room for response. There's no point in speaking.
She learns about assertive communication in her own therapy. She teaches her clients about it every week. Her entire doctoral education centers on mental health, healthy relationships, and communication. Yet when faced with her own parents, with that tone, that underlying message of you're disappointing us, every lesson disappears. She goes from twenty-five to five.
In those moments, all of her accomplishments, all of her "good child-ness," seem to vanish. There's no space for her logic, her wants, or her voice. So, she eats their aggressive words and nods her head in agreement. She opens her laptop, tears welling up in her eyes, and tries to finish her paper.
