Counting Down with You(3)
“Good morning,” I say, wrapping my arms around my two favorite girls. “Isn’t it a beautiful day outside?”
Nandini rolls her eyes, running a hand through her short curls, still wet from the gloomy weather. “It’s raining, Karina.”
“Exactly,” I say, slipping my way between her and Cora, who laughs as she scoots aside to make room.
The three of us met freshman year during Italian and have been tied together since. Every year we choose classes in the hopes of landing similar schedules and, so far, it’s worked out.
This year, we have first period free every day, and all of us show up early just to spend time together.
“How’s day one without the parental figures?” Cora asks, brushing her platinum blond hair over her shoulder and handing me a warm cup of coffee. “I see you’ve broken out the crop tops and ripped jeans.”
I smile faintly, looking down at my outfit. It’s not too wild, but it’s still more skin than usual. “I’ve been hiding these in the back of my dresser for months.”
“At least they’re finally seeing the light of day,” Nandini says, poking my belly button.
I laugh and take a sip from my cup. I try not to grimace at the bitter taste. Cora has a tendency to forget how I prefer my coffee, but I never complain, because she still went out of her way to bring it for me. “Last night I went to bed at one in the morning after binging three movies, and Dadu didn’t say a word. Can you believe that? We truly love to see it.”
“Ugh, wish I could relate. Ever since my grandparents moved in, they hog the television all the time, and it’s just not the same watching on my laptop.” Nandini sighs heavily. “I’m considering spending my next paycheck on a TV for my room.”
“You should,” Cora says, her hazel eyes bright. “Imagine the movie marathons we could have.”
Nandini grins before looking back at me. “Seriously though, babe. I’m happy for you. You needed this.”
I offer her a small smile. “Yeah, I really did.”
The last few months have been difficult, and both Nandini and Cora know it. We’ve never had a reason to keep secrets from each other. When Nandini decided during sophomore year that she didn’t want to grow out her hair anymore, Sikh or not, we were the first people she told. We took her to the hair salon ourselves and held her hand the entire time. When Cora realized last year that she’s bisexual, our group chat blew up my phone the entire night. We all showed up the next morning with matching dark circles underneath our eyes and smiled tiredly at each other in solidarity.
At the beginning of the year, I realized I didn’t want to be a doctor or an engineer or anything relating to STEM. It was the most terrifying realization of my life. It still is.
When I hypothetically brought up pursuing something other than medicine to my parents—I didn’t even mention being an English major—I received the worst lecture of my life. It went on for weeks upon weeks and stopped only when they began preparing their travel plans.
Their reaction was a horror story brought to life. Until then, I’d never realized I had anxiety. It was undeniable, though, when I found myself sitting alone in my room, struggling to breathe through my tears with an unknown pressure building in my chest.
In retrospect, I think I’ve always had it. It’s just never been as bad as it is now, with the future looming over my head, so impossibly far away and yet closer than ever.
Nandini and Cora still think I should push for an English degree. I think my parents might actually disown me if I try.
But this next month means I don’t have to worry about it. I’m free from the constant weight of their disapproving glares.
T-27 days. I’m going to try to make every single one of them count.
“How were your weekends?” I ask, leaning my elbows on the table.
Cora grins. “Okay, so I found the cutest pair of shoes at the mall. I’ll Snapchat you a picture when I get home, but they’re literally gorgeous. Perfect for junior prom.”
“Not the junior prom thing again,” Nandini says, leaning her chin on my shoulder. “Cora, that’s for losers.”
“You guys are so boring,” Cora whines. “Come on, it’ll be fun! We don’t need to go with anyone. It can just be the three of us. It’ll be like practice for real prom.”
“Good luck convincing my parents to let me go to any kind of prom,” I say. It comes out light, but both Nandini and Cora sober at the words.
Nandini is fully Indian and Cora is half-Chinese, yet my parents tend to be more strict than both of theirs combined. I’m rarely allowed to do things without guaranteed parental supervision. When I do break the rules, the hellish screaming that comes afterward is hardly ever worth it. I know it’s because they’re protective of me, but it’s still a hindrance on my social life. The situation is complex.
And as of right now, prom is out of the question.
“I’m going to start a petition,” Cora says, already taking out her planner to make a note. “I’d like to see your mom argue against five hundred signatures.”
I choke back a laugh. “Where the hell do you think you’re going to get five hundred signatures? I don’t think five hundred people even know who I am.”
“Listen, they don’t need to know you. This is a matter of social justice. Your parents are taking away your right to go to prom, and that should be illegal!” She raises her voice even louder. “This is your space. This is your area. They can’t do that to you.”