The Definition of Love

Summer

I had sent my application along with my transcript and introduction letter just before summer had ended. I waited anxiously most of the summer for a reply, I knew I should be getting one soon. Mindy and I had gone to the post office together to mail our applications and we agreed when the response came, we would open them together. I was so nervous we wouldn’t get accepted or worse one of us would and the other would be stuck going to public school. I didn’t think I could survive two more years of bullying.

They teased me for everything that made me… well me. I was bullied for my sunset orange long curls, my curvy pear shape body, my sharp icy blue eyes, my quiet demeanor, my artistic talent, and for being a lesbian. For a long time, I thought I was the problem, that they bullied me because I’m weird and different. Mindy sees me as beautiful and creative. She silenced the voices in my head that told me I was nothing. Mindy taught me to love myself for who I am. She makes me feel special and beautiful, and I’ve fallen in love with her for it. Of course, I can’t tell her. I can’t risk losing my best and only friend. It’s okay though because she isn’t interested in anybody anyways.

I hear a knock at the front door and my mother answers it. My families three-bedroom, two story, town house wasn’t big, but it was home. My two older brothers share a room and I share a room with my younger sister. I like to call it cozy, but Mindy calls it cramped. I hear her voice from downstairs. She is late as usual I think to myself with a smile before heading downstairs.

“No, it hasn’t come yet, I hope it comes soon because all of this waiting is driving me crazy!” I hear Mindy tell my mother. I know she must be talking about the response to the application.

“Hey Mindy, you’re—”

Mindy cuts me off, “Late, I know. I had to fight my hair all morning to get it to look good enough to leave the house.” She gestures wildly at her perfectly French braided short black hair.

I think she looks gorgeous, but I always things she looks good. She’s in a white printed crop top, bleached high waisted jeans, and chunky black Lita heels. Her green eyes are striking against her warm almond skin tone. She inherited her mother’s beautiful dark skin and hair but her father’s eyes and height. She’s 5’11 but with heels she makes my average 5’5 height look short. Her makeup always looks professional and she looks and dresses like a model. I wear minimum makeup and I like to dress comfy yet stylish.

“Your hair looks great, stop complaining,” I roll my eyes and smirk.

She huffs at me, “It looks alright, now let’s get going, I don’t want to miss all the good sales.”

Her eyes light up with an enthusiasm for fashion and shopping, an enthusiasm I don’t share.

“As long as I can check out the bookstore and the art supply store,” I tell her as I grab my purse and head out the door.

We walk about 15 minutes to the bus and then hop on the route that takes us to the mall. As soon as we get there Mindy heads straight for the coffee shop. She gets her usual iced coffee with an extra shot of espresso and I get an herbal tea. Then we sit and play the people watch game, it’s our favorite. Mindy goes first, she picks an older lady in her early to mid-sixties sitting at a nearby table with another woman in her forties. We imagine a life for her, what she does for a living, her family, her hobbies, her dreams, and aspirations. I like to watch people go about their day and wonder what their life is like.

After a few rounds we finish our drinks and head to the shops we want to go to. Mindy tries on about a hundred tops and after a while they all sort of look the same. She asks me what I think of each one, but I don’t know much about fashion. Honestly, most of the ones she tries on look good on her to me. Between clothing stores, I find the time to check out the bookstore and the art supply store which were both having an end of the summer sale. I buy two new books and some Copic markers.

“Don’t you already have those?” Mindy looks at the art supply bag as we ride the bus back to her house.

“These are different, these are pastels,” I say knowing I have over fifty Copic markers already.

“So, you won’t by a new pair of Doc Martens, but you’ll buy different markers,” she does air quotes around different and glances down at my beat up Doc Martens.

“They won’t feel the same, and these are pastels,” I say again, and she just laughs.

After the bus drops us off it’s a twenty-minute walk to her neighborhood. Mindy lives in a nice neighborhood on the nice side of town. Her father is a surgeon at the hospital and her mother is a Spanish professor at a private college nearby. The house is large and modern, the opposite of mine. When we walk through the door, I immediately smell something amazing from the kitchen.

“Mija, where have you been?” Mrs. Jonsson folds her arms and gives Mindy the mom look.

“Lo siento ma—” Mindy begins to apologize before being cut off.

Mrs. Jonsson gestures at the clock, “I told you to be home by one and it’s almost three!”

“But mama—” Mindy tries to defend herself but is cut off again.

“Ay yay yay! I don’t want to hear your excuses,” she then turns to me, “Karissa, have you eaten?”

Mrs. Jonsson doesn’t wait for my response before pulling two plates from the cupboard. She always insists on feeding me, I’m used to it by now. She always makes amazing food from different countries but my favorite dishes she makes are all Spanish.

Mrs. Jonsson was born in Costa Rica but lived in Spain off and on because of her family’s restaurant chain. She told me she could cook at ten years old; I think that’s impressive because at ten I was just learning to use a microwave. Mindy told me her mother met her father while her father was in Costa Rica on a medical mission. They fell in love and she moved to the United States to be with him. It seemed like a love story out of a movie. My parents had an incredible love story as well. My father is Scottish and a Protestant while my mother is Irish and a Catholic. They fell in love but neither of their churches would marry them without one or the other converting. Their families were against the marriage entirely as well, so they moved to the United States to get married and start a life together. I find it ironic how my parents families disapproved of who they loved and now my parent will probably disapprove of who I love.

Mrs. Jonsson places a plate of pork tamales in front of Mindy and me. I turn my thoughts to the amazing food in front of me. If I get accepted into The Phoenix Academy, I will miss this food. The only downside if I get accepted is that the school is a boarding school right outside of Boston, Massachusetts. That’s quite a long way from my home in Knoxville, Tennessee.

I get back home a little after five. The house is full of noise and movement. My older twin brothers Balen and Broddy are just getting home from work. They have been working at a grocery store for a few years to save for college. When summer ends, they’ll be heading off to Virginia Tech. My younger sister Aubrey is in the kitchen helping my dad cook dinner while my mom is crocheting a blanket on the couch.

My mother’s curly sunset orange hair is in a messy bun on the top of her head. She is in a light blue day dress that emphasizes her pear shape curves. I look almost like a carbon copy of her. My brothers look remarkably like my dad with his wavy brown hair, lanky tall frame, and downwards almond blue eyes. Aubrey is a perfect mix of both my parents with the family blue eyes, mom’s hair, and dad’s frame.

“How was your day?” My mother asks not looking up from her work. Her Irish accent isn’t super strong, but it does stand out.

I have a unique accent, it’s a twist on the Mid-Atlantic accent seeing as my parents are Irish and Scottish but I grew up in America. I often get asked where my accent is from and I don’t know what to tell people.

“It was good mam, what is dad cooking?” I ask glancing at the noisy kitchen.

“Cullen skink; go help him love,” she rolls her eyes at the laughing coming from the kitchen.

Cullen skink is a Scottish chowder made with smoked haddock, potatoes, and onions. It’s one of my father’s favorite dishes. As I walk into the kitchen, I smell the rolls baking that will be served with the soup. I see Aubrey stirring a large pot on the stove as she laughs loudly about something my father must have said.

He notices me in the doorway, “Did your mum send you to help?”

“Yeah, I think mam doesn’t trust you, she wants me to supervise,” I say and they both begin laughing.

I have a fairly good relationship with both of my parents, but I have always felt I am letting them down. My parents want my siblings and I to do well in school and better ourselves. They don’t seem to understand me. My brothers do well in school and are good at soccer; or football as my parents call it. Aubrey is in the STEM club and is excelling in math and science. I am an average student at best, and I focus most of my time on reading and art. My parents try their best, but I don’t think they know what to make of me. I feel estranged from my family most of the time. When I came out, that feeling only increased. Now I mostly keep to myself and I spend most of my time with Mindy because she understands me.

When the next morning came around, I was exhausted since I had been up most of the night reading. I want to get through at least a few more books before summer ends. I start my day like normal. I shower, get dressed, do my makeup and hair, and write in my dream journal. I write about my dreams then I translate those dreams and feelings into art.

Last night my dream was a feeling. I was in a garden full of many color roses, the sweet smell of rose filled the warm summer air. Soft warm dewy moss squished under my feet as I walked to the center of the rose garden. Someone was waiting for me, I couldn’t see her face, she was turned around, but she filled me with warmth and acceptance. This was the feeling of love. I wonder to myself how I could translate this dream to my art as I head down for some tea and breakfast.

On the kitchen table is a large tan envelope addressed to me from Boston, Massachusetts. I quickly grab the envelope, inspecting it like it is a precious gem. I remind myself I can’t open it without Mindy. The temptation to rip it open was almost unbearable. I immediately pulled my phone from my back pocket and called her. I knew she was probably sleeping but I didn’t care. After five or six rings she finally picked up.

“What?” A groggy annoyed Mindy answered. She sounded like she just woke up.

“IT CAME!” I yell enthusiastically into the phone.

“SHHHH! Not all of us are morning people.” She grumbles.

“Mindy, it came, get up and get over here!” I say in a quieter tone.

Mindy groans tiredly, “what came, what are you going on about?”

“The response letter, it arrived this morning. I bet yours arrived to, so you need to get up and get your butt over—never mind I’ll come to you.” I say slowly because she is still groggy from sleep.

“It came!?” She finally comprehends.

“I’m coming right over!” I say before hanging up.

I beg my brothers to borrow our mother’s car and drive me to Mindy’s. It’s only a fifteen-minute drive but it’s complicated to get there by bus. It’s a fifteen-minute walk to the bus stop, a twenty-minute bus ride, and then a twenty-minute walk to Mindy’s house. It’s almost quicker to walk the whole way. Balen agrees to drive me and soon I am sitting on Mindy’s bed.

Mindy sits across from me on her bed with her legs folded. We both are staring at our folders to nervous to open them. I look up at her with pleading eyes. She is the brave outgoing one and I often look to her for courage but in this moment, we are both just as scared.

“What if you open mine and I open yours?” I suggest breaking the silence.

Mindy thinks about it, “yeah I think that might be easier.”

We swap folders and slowly begin opening them. I pull out a letter and read the letter to myself.

The first line reads ‘Dear Amanda Molina Jonsson, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into The Phoenix Academy.’

I look up from the letter making eye contact with Mindy, I see she has my letter out as well. I nod and smile widely letting her know she has gotten in and she does the same. I was in shock, we swapped letters, so we were now holding our own and I read the first line.

‘Dear Karissa Rose Carwyn, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into The Phoenix Academy.’

We jumped up from the bed and began dancing around the room. I pulled Mindy into a hug; this was going to change our lives. We would finally be free of bullying, the comments, the teasing, the harassment. We could finally be ourselves without fear. I knew it would be hard going to school states away, but it would be much harder staying and going to public school.

We must have been to loud because Mindy’s parents come to check on us. They are so happy we both got accepted. I call my parents to let them know the good news and I can hear my mother say a quick prayer in the background. They are just as excited as Mindy’s parents. There is a hint of sorrow as well because in a few weeks we will have to leave. There is so much to do before we can leave. I am excited for this opportunity but also nervous. I hope the school turns out to be as amazing as I hope it will be. I want to be free to be who I am. I want to express myself and learn about myself. The one thing I want to explore about myself is what love means to me.