Pushcart 2015: Aisha Gawad, “Waking Luna” from Kenyon Review, #35.2

Art by Huda Lufti: "Femme Gaultier and Egyptian Pop"

Art by Huda Lufti: “Femme Gaultier and Egyptian Pop”

My cousin Luna sleeps on a Super 8 motel bed in Jersey City, in a room that overlooks the Holland Tunnel toll plaza, next to a Home Depot that makes me sad because I can’t imagine anyone in this place having a home for which they might ever need a hammer or some drywall or satin-finish paint. But there it sits, massively waiting, just in case. New York is just eight dollars and ten minutes away.

When we were eight and first learning how to pray, we used to think the world would pause for us until we had finished. We would slip our little white prayer scarves over our heads, kneel and bend and kneel and bend, turn our heads and say peace be upon you and the Mercy of Allah to the right and then to the left, and when we stood up, yanking the scarves off, we were always shocked to find out that we had missed the first ten minutes of Ducktales.

Two cousins, a rescuer and rescuee. Luna is a pole dancer with bad habits chemical and personal, and Amira shows up to get her out of whatever jams she gets herself into. It’s so much an “I love the black sheep of my family” story, yet it’s set in a cultural background that adds depth to the double portrait.

I very much like two of the scenes from this story. One is above, and I can see these two little girls with their own eight-year-old visions of how the world works, and their surprise at learning they were wrong. They have learned many similar lessons since then. The description of the Ramadan fast – who cheats, and who doesn’t – also stood out. It’s a scene KR editor David Lynn mentions specifically in his “Why We Chose It” column. He reads a great deal about the immigrant experience into the story. While I loved the way the specific cultural background played into the story, I instead found myself focused on a more universal element: the tie between some family members that can’t be broken – even when it is:

I remember when I still felt like there was a bungee cord running from my lungs, dragging along the streets of Brooklyn and up into her mouth, no matter where she was, every breath connected, my inhale dependent on her exhale. I don’t remember when it snapped.

My favorite stories give me a sense of what I keep calling “projection into the future” – a sort of sequel that plays in my mind after I’ve read the last sentence. I can imagine several futures for Amira and Luna. Perhaps Luna gets tired of calling for help. Or perhaps she learns from her mistakes, and no longer needs to call for help. The one possibility that I don’t see, is that Luna calls, and Amira doesn’t answer. I’ll admit, that may be wishful thinking on my part.

In her KR contributor conversation, Gawad points out these two characters are from a novel-in-progress; it’s a scene, she says, that “never makes it into the storyline of the novel but yet still informs it emotionally.” Sounds like an interesting novel.

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