Goldy Moldavsky

I search Vitaly for the answers to my unasked questions, but all he does is glow with promise. Big and bright as a lighthouse.

I’m drowning

She’s always “on” in front of others, her subservient smile like a spotlight she shines in your eyes so you can’t see who she really is

I didn’t, like, consent to do a crime—this isn’t my fault.”

“I know,” Mr. Yang says.

But for as calm and sympathetic as he’s being, it only makes the panic in me burn brighter. “You’re not going to report me, are you?” I’m an idiot for talking so openly about all this stuff. “You’re not obligated to call the authorities, right?”

Just wait for the government to get their act together. Things will change. The tides are turning.”

But I’m already out to sea. Marriage—what a lifeboat

My mom spends her life trying to be pleasant and amenable and never taking up any space. She makes herself small enough to never be a nuisance or a problem, does whatever it takes to blend into her surroundings and not attract attention. But I can’t live in the shadows like that. I want to be able to be a nuisance when I need to be. I want to be someone’s problem.

Maybe it’s the American in me talking, but I know I was meant to do great things. Daring things. And I can start with this. Getting married may seem like a huge deal, but in the long run it’ll just be a blip in the peaks and valleys of my life. A funny story I tell at many, many New York City parties.

This is ridiculous.”

“No one said it wasn’t.”

I’ve never seen Vitaly this frazzled. He’s still mostly his patented no-nonsense self, but he’s vibrating at a higher frequency. “Have you thought this through?” he says. “Really thought it through? The ramifications of it, the risks? I know it sucks to be undocumented, but this scheme could get you into a lot more trouble than it would get you out of.”

Honestly, I only joke with him like this because the color his face turns is my favorite shade of pink.

“Nothing, it’s just ironic. Freedom through marriage.”

“What do you mean?”

His sideways glance tells me it should be obvious. “Marriage is a cage.”

“Damn, boy. Tell me how you really feel.”

“I just wonder if anyone can truly be happy and married at the same time.”

I stand there, lips parted, just watching Vitaly fold for a minute, because I really never knew he was this cynical. “But love and marriage. They go together like a—”

“Love isn’t a theme song,” Vitaly cuts in. “Love can mean heartbreak. It can be unrequited. It can feel like torture. Love makes you think with your heart instead of your head, which leads to terrible decisions, which could then lead to your life spinning out of control.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, you don’t want to fall in love because it’ll make you spin out of control?”

Happiness. I just don’t think I’m going to find it within the confines of a marriage.”

He reaches past me to grab more clothes and pointedly ignores the shocked look on my face. “Okay, but marriage can equal friendship,” I say. “A partnership. Someone who’s there for you through everything.”

“Marriage can equal resentment. Settling. Someone who holds you back and makes you miserable and keeps you trapped.”