The basic Salsa steps – 1, 2, 3 – front, centre, front – 5, 6, 7 – back, center, back — says Mia, hitting hard on both her feet and the last word. I imitate my friend. I spin and turn and tap my foot – 1, 2, 3 – and ask mama — when is dad coming home? Can I learn salsa too?
I hate piano classes, but mama says smart girls who marry rich boys know how to play piano. Mama says smart girls don’t marry their high school sweethearts who turn out to be misogynistic losers.
Mia does not know the meaning either, so we goggle – misogynistic: adjective: a person who dislikes, despises or is strongly prejudiced against women. Mia and I think very hard, but we don’t find anyone resembling this misogynistic guy.
Mama stacks dishes in the sink, drinks bourbon in one swig and never replies. I tap my foot back – 5, 6, 7 – and – seek fatherly love in the sad priest of Hope Salvation Church. Not the random uncles who spend random nights at our place. Nights when mama is extra nice and let me and Mia have pepperoni pizza and French fries with hot extra chilies.
The sound of hushed laughter and kisses seeps through the closed door, and I turn up the TV volume. Because we get bored watching Tom chasing Jerry or Jerry chasing Tom and sometimes there is a grey bulldog called Butch or Killer, I accidentally change the channel. A teenage girl makes out with a teenage boy in the backseat of a red stolen car in a movie rated 16+.
A door creaks, something breaks somewhere; I swiftly switch the channel. A dad brings puppies for his young children and reads them bedtimes stories. And Mia says, squeezing my hand, it only happens in movies.
Marzia Rahman is a Bangladeshi writer and translator. Her flashes have been widely published in both online and print journals and anthologies. Author of two books, she has edited a flash fiction anthology titled Flashlights in 2024.
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