Hot Pink in the City by Medeia Sharif Read Free Book Online

were horrified that I did
this in my closet. I even drew on the living room and kitchen
walls."
    I smile, thinking about a rebellious little
Nasreen. I position my limbs the best I can. I'm feeling cramped
with our bodies hitting the wall and door. Nasreen already pushed
hangers to the side, but her clothes still brush the back of my
head. The light overhead is dim, and, as my eyes adjust, Nasreen
takes a pile of clothes and throws them aside to reveal a small,
six-inch TV. "One of our neighbors left this outside the garbage
chute, and one day after school I rescued it. Dad doesn't know I
have it. This is how I watch TV late at night, but I keep the sound
low so no one can hear it."
    One cousin lives behind a curtain and another
in a closet. Interesting. And it's kind of scary how Uncle is so
controlling. Even my parents don't complain if I stay up late to
watch TV or listen to my Walkman. They admonish me that I should go
to bed early so I can wake early, but they don't make a big deal if
I go to sleep at one or two in the morning. As I inhale the scent
of stale perfume and mothballs, taking in this odd room within a
room that Nasreen hides in, she turns the black-and-white TV on,
adjusts the rabbit ears, and tunes in to a syndicated sitcom. Three's Company segues into Too Close for Comfort .
Those shows are all the same to me with their canned laughter and
repeated storylines, but I actually laugh, but not too loud. We
can't get loud at all.
    "I haven't told any of my friends I watch TV
or read in this closet," Nasreen whispers, her pajama bottoms
rubbing against mine. "You better not breathe a word."
    "Of course not. And who'd believe me?" We're
in a different level in this basement apartment, and I'm touched
Nasreen has shown me her sanctum.
    During the commercials, Nasreen shares more
about her desire to leave the basement, New York, bratty Omar, and
her overprotective parents. She's played drums in her high school
band class, but her father won't allow her to have a drum set at
home. She itches to join a band, read her poems at a poetry café,
go on a road trip... the more I listen to her, the more I want to
do some of these things and help her live her dreams.
    "Nasreen, I hope you get to do all of this,"
I whisper. "I also want more in life. I want to be on TV, dance,
sing, do things I've barely had practice in since my parents won't
let me take formal lessons. I only know how to do some of these
things playing around with friends. I want to be seen."
    "We both want recognition."
    I squeeze her arm and put my head on her
shoulder. Despite the anxiety of destroying Uncle's tape, I'm glad
to spend this closeted time with my cousin. We continue watching
TV, but the shows become less entertaining as it turns to early
morning. " Josie and the Pussycats comes on in an hour," she
says. "That's about all that's good at this time."
    "That's the only cartoon I still watch. I
love that show. And I also love Jem ."
    "Band babes all the way."
    "Do you have the Yellow Pages?" I ask.
    "Why?" she says.
    "I want to see if there are any Middle
Eastern shops in the area while we wait for Josie to come
on."
    "I'll be right back," she says. Getting out
of the closet is a big deal. She turns the TV off, pulls the towel
away from the door, and shoves clothes and hangers out of her way.
I'm alone for two minutes, taking in the true silence of the
apartment, minus the people outside the windows and the restless
city. I now see why this closet is a haven for Nasreen.
    "Here you go," she says when she comes back.
She puts the towel in its place, sits down, and turns the TV back
on.
    I grab the phone book and look through the
sections for markets, grocery stores, and specialty stores. I find
a few ads and listings for Middle Eastern stores. "Be careful,"
Nasreen says. "This is my dad's main phonebook. The other ones are
old."
    Sheesh, everything is about not upsetting her
dad. Meanwhile, we did the worst thing we could yesterday... which
is why I