Mail Order Bride
I’m 19 next Wednesday and I’ve never used a tampon. Too scared to ask anyone. Not such big deal. I mean, for some people, but not me. No one ever tell me. I had no parents, at least not my own.
I’m Gulzina, now Tina. I’m from Kyrgyzstan. Never hear English until 12. Most of life I dodge bullets. Soldiers come after women. Young girls. I’m not sure how, was kind of like that game Vietnam prisoners played. I think, roulette.
Then, I wish I had gun, just one bullet in head. Would have done the trick.
I live in Oklahoma. Married to truck driver. His name Chip. How did I come here? Good question. I try to tell. They have ladies for purchase right? Like Tamika, at Sam’s Club. She’s a Tajikistan girl, from Pamir Alay Valley, near my country. A mail order bride.
Yeah. Me too. Before, I had no address, or anything. Guess you don’t really need one.
First, when I come to U.S., we live in motel, the Chelsea Motor Inn. The owner’s buffalo lived in a field behind the motel. I stare at that beast. A woman, Mrs. Barlett, sit on bench. She wear curlers in her hair and have spotted hands. She smoke a lot, I remembered the men in Kyrgyzstan. She tried to talk to me, but I know so few English. I smile a lot.
I don’t drive. Tamika is my friend. She’s nice but she only know Farsi. She doesn’t want to study English. Okay, but I feel like I’m here now. I want to learn it.