{"id":1338,"date":"2021-08-15T15:40:21","date_gmt":"2021-08-15T22:40:21","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/alessandrob.com\/blog\/?page_id=1338"},"modified":"2021-09-18T20:10:16","modified_gmt":"2021-09-19T03:10:16","slug":"mitra","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/alessandrob.com\/blog\/?page_id=1338","title":{"rendered":"Mitra"},"content":{"rendered":"

Kimchi<\/span><\/h2>\n

Deliciously Smelly<\/em> Korean Food \ud83d\ude42<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Fog is re-arranging itself in a slow turning dance on Mount Diablo.<\/p>\n

Two dozen well-dressed, middle-aged couples mingle on a perpetual green lawn.<\/p>\n

The sixteen-year-old plucks a champagne glass from a passing tray, and mouths thank you <\/em>to the human holding the tray.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

Mitra\u2019s Mom whips the glass out of her hand. \u201cSince when do you drink in public?\u201d<\/p>\n

Mitra says, \u201cIn Italy teenagers enjoy\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom tells her that they\u2019re not in Italy.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell me about it,\u201d Mitra says. \u201cWe\u2019re in a republican-infested\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShush darling. Politics to ourselves until Dad is reelected, and take those glasses off. Let everyone see those pretty blue eyes.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

Without warning, there is a roar inside Mitra\u2019s head.<\/p>\n

A silent wailing in her skull.<\/p>\n

It is not a sound, more like a feeling, a memory.<\/p>\n

Sometimes I think there is a map concealed in the darkness in my head.<\/p>\n

Mom says, \u201cWhat map?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI said I think the fat man in the dark suit is ogling me.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

Her mother follows the thread of Mitra\u2019s look, but her gaze flits over the fat man in the dark suit and alights on a uniformed navy captain.<\/p>\n

He smiles and Mom smiles back.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom, are you flirting with a random person in a valet uniform?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know you know that is not a valet\u2014\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

Olga<\/span><\/p>\n

\"Olga\"<\/p>\n

A high-pitched voice detonates next to them.<\/p>\n

A brunette in a blue cr\u00eape dress with matching eye shadow and a deep neckline stands next to them, exuding Miss Dior and carnality.<\/p>\n

Mom says, \u201cDear Mrs. Winthrop, it is so good to see you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Femme fatal inches closer to Mitra, her elbow not touching hers, but threatening to, and she whispers, \u201cPlease, call me Olga.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her voice has a slithering echo like the sound a brush makes on cymbals.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Mitra swings around, proffering her right hand. \u201cPleased to meet you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Olga Winthrop holds on to Mitra\u2019s extended hand a couple of seconds too long and tells her that the pleasure is all hers. \u201cAre you in college?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCal Tech,\u201d Mitra responds. \u201cPhysics.\u201d She picks a chute glass filled with a pink liquid from a passing tray and drowns the contents before her mother can blink.<\/p>\n

\u201cCal Tech.\u201d Olga eyes Mitra\u2019s lips and neckline. \u201cImpressive.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mitra doesn\u2019t miss a beat. \u201cParallel dimensions and naughty electrons. So sexy, right?\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Olga begins to say something when Mitra interrupts. \u201cYou have some Azerbaijani in you, don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAzer\u2014what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe way you pronounced the C of Cal Tech. It sounded like a J.\u201d<\/p>\n

Olga opens her mouth, shuts it.<\/p>\n

\u201cGanja dialect,\u201d Mitra says. \u201cIsn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

::: + : + : + : + : + : + : + :::<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Minutes later, as they watch\u00a0 Olga Winthrop sashay away Mom says, \u201cYou should not tell people that you\u2019re in college.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMILF was totally hitting on me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLanguage darling.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mitra says, \u201cI wonder how much those tits have set senator Winthrop back.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShush, darling.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe was not wearing a bra either. So, not fair. Mom, can I get a little lift? I feel my tits are beginning to sag.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

Mom clears her throat loudly. \u201cWasn\u2019t Brian coming tonight?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom says, \u201cYour BF. The quarterback.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBeefy guy, Duh-Brain, smells like motor oil?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. No. I mean he smells fine.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

Mitra tells her that she has traded up.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho\u2019s the new BF?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGF,\u201d Mitra corrects her. \u201cKorean. Thirty-nine. Divorced. Creamy skin and almond eyes you could\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen can we meet him darling? Friday after your Piano practice? A light supper? You know your father insists on meeting all your BFs.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMom, I should tell you. I really do not play the piano.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

::: + : + : + : + : + : + : + :::<\/span><\/p>\n

Officer<\/span><\/p>\n

\"officer\"<\/p>\n

<\/h2>\n

Olga Winthrop eyes the navy officer holding hands with the blonde.<\/p>\n

He is making a conscious effort not to look in Olga\u2019s direction.<\/p>\n

Failing miserably.<\/p>\n

Olga waits patiently, and when the wife of the naval officer goes to the bathroom, she swan-dives for the kill.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

He beams when he senses her close.<\/p>\n

Olga whispers, \u201cA story for every\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLike Scheherazade.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou remember,\u201d Olga says. \u201cRemember when we were on that island you\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve got to go,\u201d he says. \u201cMy wife could be\u2014<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck her.\u201d<\/p>\n

He smiles, so she knows it will be easy.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

| ::: | ::: | ::: | ::: | ::: | ::: | ::: | ::: | ::: |\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

THE SPY<\/span><\/h2>\n

\"brother\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Later that night, in her apartment, Olga Winthrop undresses slowly thinking of the lovely creature she met as she dials Brother.<\/p>\n

A deep voice says, \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

Olgas says, \u201cI was at\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Brother interrupts, telling her that they know, that they have the officer\u2019s semen from the condom he used. His tone tells her that she is wasting his time.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

Olga speaks quickly. \u201cSomething else, someone else. The daughter of the mayor. She is sixteen. I think.\u201d<\/p>\n

She waits for the idea to sink in.<\/p>\n

Olga says, \u201cShe knew I was Azerbaijani, picked up on my pronunciation.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brother thinks about that for a few seconds.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow would a sixteen-year-old American girl know?\u201d<\/p>\n

Olga says, \u201cHer name is Mitra as in\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDaughter of Surya,\u201d Brother interrupts. \u201cI get it. Is she adopted?\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

| ::: | ::: | ::: | ::: | ::: | ::: | ::: | ::: | ::: |\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Marylin Monroe<\/span><\/h2>\n

As soon as Mitra walks into the one- bedroom apartment, she detects Mi-Cha\u2019s presence, her scent.<\/p>\n

She takes off her shoes and says, \u201cYou\u2019ve been working out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cArgh!\u201d Mi-Cha screams from the bedroom. She affects a faux Japanese accent. \u201cMitra-san, you insufferable. I am showered and powdered now.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mitra says, \u201cLike a proper Korean Lesbian.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI hate that word.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKorean?\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

When Mi-Cha walks into the living room, Mitra says, \u201cWhat is with the white dress?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s very Marylin Monroe, don\u2019t you think?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know who that is.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t know who\u2014?\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cI do not.\u201d Mitra scrunches her nose. \u201cCan you open the windows when you do Taekwondo?\u201d<\/p>\n

Mi-Cha says, \u201cYou don\u2019t like the way I smell. You don\u2019t like the way I dress. You don\u2019t know who Marylin\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s the age difference,\u201d Mitra interrupts.<\/p>\n

Mi-Cha nods gravely.<\/p>\n

\u201cI agree,\u201d she says. \u201cWe break off tonight.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

Mitra corrects her. \u201cBreak up.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mi-Cha takes off a stiletto from one perfect creamy foot and throws it at Mitra.<\/p>\n

It hits her on the arm. \u201cOuch!\u201d<\/p>\n

Mi-Cha says, \u201cOne last time before you fuck off forever?\u201d<\/p>\n

Mitra feigns thinking about that.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

::: + : + : + : + : + : + : + :::<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

GF<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Afterwards they lie in bed, legs up, toes and foreheads touching.<\/p>\n

Mi-Cha says, \u201cTonight, I want to cook Korean.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOr we could eat out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou eat Kimchi, or I will never talk to you again.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan it be without…?”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

Mi-Cha gives an emphatic shake of the head banging her forehead against Mitra\u2019s. Traditional Kimchi, she informs Mitra, is with boiled cabbage.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan I cover my nose?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSpoiled little shit. Racist\u2014”<\/p>\n

Mitra kisses her to shut her up.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cSo,\u201d Mitra says, \u201cpizza?\u201d<\/p>\n

Mi-Cha says, \u201cWe eat proper Korean food tonight, or\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOr what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStart thinking about living without me.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

Mitra says, \u201cThere was this Russian woman at the fundraising.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSlut,\u201d Mi-Cha says, \u201cI thought you were different tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot Russian. From another country that was part of Communist Russia. Turkey? How different?\u201d<\/p>\n

Mi-Cha says, \u201cTurkey has never been part of the Soviet Union.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cHow was I different?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you don\u2019t let me teach you geography you will fail high school.\u201d She does a quick intake of breath. \u201cWas she your type?<\/p>\n

Mitra blushes beet red.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou slut.\u201d<\/p>\n

A pillow smacks Mi-Cha in the face.<\/p>\n

Mi-Cha arms herself with another pillow. \u201cOkay Mitra-san. It\u2019s war you want, it\u2019s war you get.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

| ::: | ::: | ::: | ::: | ::: | ::: | ::: | ::: | ::: |\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Cadillac<\/span><\/h2>\n

\"cadillac\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A girl dressed in a Tyvek protective suit gets out, slinks to the wall in front of the building\u2019s entrance and draws a red X\u00a0 on the wall. When she gets back in the car, she says, \u201cWhat if she really doesn\u2019t remember? I hear episodic memory loss runs in the family.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cStupid disorder more likely,\u201d the driver says. \u201cA spoiled little brat deliberately and consciously acting dumb because she thinks it\u2019s cute.\u201d Then, the driver, the woman they call Nahr thinks about the alternative.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cOr she has forgotten. In either case\u2026\u201d She shrugs.<\/p>\n

The girl insists. \u201cBut the oath we\u2014\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

Nahr interrupts, \u201cI\u2019ve sworn to protect the Goddess of Light. I haven\u2019t sworn to protect a privileged little American brat. She doesn\u2019t remember, she dies. Her lesbian lover and her mother will be ravaged. Daddy mayor and little brother will die gruesome deaths.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

Nahr eyes the backlit silhouettes of the girl and her lover reflected in the window of the building, listens to Mitra shriek with laughter as the Korean girl throws her to the floor, and says, \u201cPerhaps we misread the prophecy.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Goddess of the Rising Sun, Mitra is undeceivable, eternally watchful, snobby, bitchy, and breathtakingly beautiful. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1340,"parent":555,"menu_order":2,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"template-full.php","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1338","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/alessandrob.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1338","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/alessandrob.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/alessandrob.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alessandrob.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alessandrob.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1338"}],"version-history":[{"count":32,"href":"https:\/\/alessandrob.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1338\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1397,"href":"https:\/\/alessandrob.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1338\/revisions\/1397"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alessandrob.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/555"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alessandrob.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1340"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/alessandrob.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1338"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}