A Tale of Two Cities

Submitted into Contest #248 in response to: Write a story titled 'A Tale of Two Cities'.... view prompt

78 comments

Drama Asian American Fiction

May 12, 1984


To the Parent-Teacher Association Moms of Alamo Elementary School:


Yes, you may pick your jaws off the squeaky, dusty basketball court hardwood now. Oh, don’t think I didn’t see it all: the eyes flying over to me like a seagull when I opened my mouth to cheer for my lovely daughter singing onstage, the tide of confusion crashing upon your made-up faces, the gulp you had to stifle to paint an expression saltier than San Francisco Bay. Nevertheless, yes, you heard correctly indeed: contrary to what you had pre-conceived of a petite, moon-faced woman born in Southeast Asia, I do speak English, and yes, well enough to pen this letter to you. Ha!


Don’t try to deny what happened backstage at the school’s Spring Student Showcase either. Yes, that incident. You know very well that my Lucy --- with eyes scintillating even more than the sequined performance dress she had on --- handed your tykes ube*-flavored crinkles, a type of cookie from my homeland of the Philippines, whilst everyone was preparing for the show. (Yep, that’s just how she is. She’d feed an amoeba in our peninsula's waters if she could.) How impossible it was to miss how your kids leapt over to her, arms extended like a bridge over two shores, to grab a treat…only for you to swipe it off their tiny hands, your eyes narrowing into slits, thin as a cable, while you stared at my sobbing little girl and me, fuming.


Then, just as I was about to let the wildfire in my heart blaze on out of my mouth, I observed it: twenty crying kids looking at each other, nodding, and stretching their limbs to grab the pastries from your raised hands. I could only guffaw as you helplessly watched the very same youngsters you had programmed put the cookies in their cavernous mouths and let their faces melt into a smile as they lost themselves in the fog of satisfaction. Oh well, I guess. At least, I had a good laugh.


I know. None of that matters to all of you. In your eyes, the child I love, that I coded into existence with my lithe body the color of the fertile, rice-growing earth, will always be an “experiment in genetics” (Yes, I heard you gossiping). In your mind, my blackish almond eyes and my slightly bent sienna-jacketed passport with an unfamiliar crest will always be but stains in the pristine, picture-perfect sheets that help you sleep at night. No matter which way the wind from the bay blows, to you, Lucy and I are invaders of your white picket fence world that somehow managed to sneak past the city walls. You other us simply because of our complexion, simply because my birth certificate belongs to a different nation a continent away, because the façade is too dissimilar to yours for you to explore what is inside.


However, it goes without saying that I’m more than just a flesh of bronze skin and a peculiar accent that sometimes stumbles like a baby on which syllable to emphasize in certain words. Yes, it’s true that somewhere in the archives of time, my story was set in Manila, in another metropolis by an inlet, so much like the city we live in. I come from a burgh where residents swoon in restaurants on dates with their partners, where families laugh as children run around a park, where regular Joes live and breathe… just like this slice of California we call home. See, we aren’t poles apart now, are we? Ah, the wonders you discover when you not only make a stopover in someone’s self islands and choose to walk in the streets, so to say.


So now, I extend to you an invitation. Look, I’m not expecting you to be immediate friends with me; I just want you to understand. I’ve heard it said that some towns are great places to visit but you wouldn’t want to live there. Well, I hope you do not apply that little adage to people, to me.


Perhaps, if you paid more than a visit, you’d know that I actually had a blossoming career in advertising before having to nip it in the bud to come to your shores. You’d find out that once upon a time, I donned crisp pantsuits and stilettos for my prestigious desk job, not a uniform for the Holiday Inn. You’d hear that I conceptualized campaigns that would be blasted onto screens in an entire country. Instead of working in a hotel, I stayed in them whenever I went on vacation in some new locale, either in the Philippines or elsewhere in Asia. Yet, I gave it all up for a one-way ticket to California. I said goodbye to that cushy life, to my family and friends, because of a dream that required letting go. I was more than willing to make the sacrifice this land you were born to imposed on me for a new life, for love. If you paid more than a visit, you may find determination in the foundations of who I am.


Perhaps, if you paid more than a visit, you’d know that, unlike what I’d deciphered in your not-so-hushed whispers, all I want to do whenever I see Charlie is to hold him, not his bank card. You’d realize that ours is a typical romance; --- guy meets best friend’s cousin on vacation, they develop feelings for each other --- it’s just that our places of origin just happen to be on opposite coasts. You’d observe how even as our longing for each other’s touch stretched as wide as the yawning Pacific that once separated us, we endured, exchanged letters and trinkets to have a piece of each other, relished every tear of joy at every airport reunion, made sure our love lasted more than a summer. Then, you’d feel the frustration of constantly having to prove the validity of our affection, --- to immigration officers, to check-out lady at the supermarket, and --- yes --- to you. If you paid more than a visit, you may find that real love is in the air for my husband and me.


Perhaps, if you paid more than a visit, you’d know how delightful our little Lucy is. When she came out of me, Charlie and I stared at this magical being with his hazel eyes and my dark waves and marveled at how she came to be --- the best of East and West, the best thing to happen to us. You’d beam as she charms you when she sings made-up melodies to her doll collection, as she curtsies like the princess she is every time she meets someone new, as she gives the most heartwarming hugs. And maybe, just maybe, you’d finally consider the lovely medium brown of her skin as beautiful, as worthy. If you paid more than a visit, you will find that my daughter is not the aberration you think she is but a bright star, much like your own children.


Most of all, perhaps, if you paid more than a visit, you’d know that I’m just like you, that all these borders you think exist between us are only, well, skin deep. You’d notice that I bump into you at Giants games and in line to buy theatre tickets. You’d wave when you spot Charlie and me trying out the latest restaurant in Chinatown. You’d comprehend that just as you do, I laugh, I cry, I worry for my family, I exist. If you paid more than a visit, you may find common ground with me --- even if my own.


Yes, it’s true; my tale is that of two cities on opposite ends of an ocean. However, it is also a story of love, of passion, of laughter, of tears ---just as valid as yours. I’m as valid as you. All I’m asking is for you to read a bit of it to understand.


Hey, if you’d like, I’d throw in free ube-flavoured crinkles to sweeten the deal. The purple isn't too lurid, I promise.


Always proud of the story she weaves,

Sandra Dickens


*Note: Ube is a Filipino dessert made out of mashed purple yam, milk, and butter. It is a popular flavour for cakes, pasties, and candies.



April 29, 2024 15:07

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78 comments

Cedar Barkwood
18:19 May 02, 2024

"Lucy and I are invaders of your white picket fence world that somehow managed to sneak past the city walls. You other us simply because of our complexion, simply because my birth certificate belongs to a different nation a continent away, because the façade is too dissimilar to yours for you to explore what is inside." Even as our society grows older, it seems that too many people still can't understand that physical appearance or where somebody comes from makes no difference to a person. You found the perfect words to make a statement agai...

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Alexis Araneta
20:34 May 02, 2024

So glad you liked that sentence. I particularly loved writing that. Hahahaha ! But it's true. The superficial things some people judge worth on. So happy you liked this story. Thanks for reading !

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Viga Boland
22:32 May 02, 2024

I love stories like this where the narrator speaks her mind and lets the chips fall where they may i.e take it or leave but this is how I feel. It takes guts for writers to do that and I applaud you. 👏 On a side note, funny how we both approached this weeks prompts in a rather contentious tone that invites argument or agreement. Feisty! Love it. Adding you to my followings. 😉

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Alexis Araneta
22:47 May 02, 2024

When I saw the prompt, I knew I wanted to do diaspora literature (a genre I love). Of course, none of the immigration-themed novels I have are this indignant. Hahahaha ! Then again, if you were judged based on the colour of your skin, yes, you may snap. Thank you so much for reading this. Glad you liked it !

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Renate Buchner
05:56 May 02, 2024

Alexis, you have brought tears to my eyes. Such a strong statement that people from different backgrounds or skin colors have the same values and that those with superior wealth and social position are no better than the impoverished. Happiness also influences our lives. Wow, Alexis. Wow!

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Alexis Araneta
06:46 May 02, 2024

Renate, this means so much. I'm so grateful my little tale resonated with you. When I saw "a tale of two cities" as a prompt, I knew I had to do diaspora literature (one of my favourite genres of books). Indeed, it sad that superficial things become the measure of worth in some people's eyes. Thanks for taking the time to read this story. Glad you liked it !

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Beth Connor
00:42 May 19, 2024

I love how you have such a distict voice in your writing! Great story

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Alexis Araneta
01:02 May 19, 2024

Beth !! It means so much coming from you. Thank you so much ! I'm glad my voice came through.

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Beth Connor
01:14 May 19, 2024

ooo also I have tried Ube! (and Ube ice cream.)

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Alexis Araneta
01:38 May 19, 2024

Like I said in a different comment, I'm not really an ube fan unless it's just the plain one in a jar. Hahahaha ! I just needed a flavour that San Fransiscans in the 80s may find strange. Hahahaha !

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Amanda Stogsdill
02:56 May 18, 2024

Your story is just what people need right now. Love, understanding; hope for the future for all people searching for a place to belong. Will look up that dessert.

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Alexis Araneta
03:04 May 18, 2024

Oh my ! Thank you so much, Amanda ! Indeed, at the end of the day, we are all humans. We may have different coloured skin and passports, but there should be love and understanding towards everyone. To be perfectly honest, I'm not a big ube-flavoured anything fan. If I used my favourite Filipino dessert (Pampanga-style halo-halo), it wouldn't be feasible to bring backstage because it's ice-based. Hahahaha ! I just chose one that was portable for a little girl to share to mates at school. Huge thanks for reading and commenting !

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Graham Kinross
22:56 May 14, 2024

I like the confrontation in this. Not just sitting by and pretending not to hear and notice people putting you down takes bravery.

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Alexis Araneta
00:05 May 15, 2024

Hahahaha ! Thank you, Graham ! Like I mentioned in another comment, after a while, you can't help snapping. Thanks for reading !

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Graham Kinross
02:55 May 15, 2024

You’re welcome.

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Jennifer Luckett
15:22 May 10, 2024

Great story. I wonder how much my aunt would have related to this story.

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Alexis Araneta
16:09 May 10, 2024

Thank you so much, Jennifer. Glad you liked this story.

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Daniel Rogers
01:27 May 09, 2024

"Lucy and I are invaders of your white picket fence world..." So poetic and powerful. When I read this, it hit me over the head. I'm checking my picket fence to see what color it is. If it's white, I'm painting it. Great job. P.S. - I don't mean painting it white, that would be stupid. I'd use red and yellow, black and white. They're all precious.

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Alexis Araneta
01:58 May 09, 2024

Hi, Daniel ! I don't have a picket fence (not really a big thing in my neck of the woods), so nothing to paint. 😄 I'm so happy you liked this story and you found it poetic. Thank you so much for reading !

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Orwell King
20:30 May 07, 2024

This hits close to home, my own wife has similar difficulties to those described bed by Sandra. Very real and well written. Loved it.

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Alexis Araneta
22:41 May 07, 2024

I'm so sorry your wife faced similar prejudice. I'm pleased you liked the story, though. Thanks for investing your time in reading it!

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George Beasley
01:09 May 07, 2024

So talented! I love your stories!

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Alexis Araneta
03:24 May 07, 2024

Oh my, George ! It means so much coming from you. Thank you for taking time to read my story and to comment. I'm happy you liked it !

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Milly Orie
00:58 May 06, 2024

Very raw yet eloquent! I loved the flowery style. So descriptive, immersive, honest. What a beautiful piece of writing!

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Alexis Araneta
04:11 May 06, 2024

Milly, that means so much coming from you. Thank you so much. I'm so happy the story resonated with you, and I was able to convey the experience of many immigrants. PS: I'm always flowery...even in real life. Hahahaha ! Thanks for reading !

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Karla S. Bryant
00:21 May 06, 2024

What a powerful narrative! By the end of the story, I felt as if I knew Sandra and was ready to support her in any future conflict. Wonderful job capturing the unspoken bigotry faced by immigrants and how often a successful professional in their home country finds themselves in service industry jobs here. Beautifully written and completely engaging!

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Alexis Araneta
04:08 May 06, 2024

Karla, thank you so much. Like I mentioned in other comments, the very first thing that came to mind when I saw the prompt is diaspora literature. I'm so happy you ended up cheering for Sandra; to know that you resonated with my protagonist makes me chuffed as a writer. The bit about Sandra ending up in the service industry despite having a flourishing career in the Philippines was actually inspired by the real life story of a famous singer-songwriter in the 70s here ending up as a baggage handler at San Francisco Airport when he moved the...

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Krissa Svavars
10:36 May 05, 2024

She is so wonderfully superior to her "bully's" with out ever trying to be superior! A great story that gives a window into just how close minded people can affect you and not get to you in the slightest.

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Alexis Araneta
15:56 May 05, 2024

Ha ! Lovely way to put it ! Thank you so much for reading ! Glad you liked it !

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LeeAnn Hively
22:54 May 04, 2024

A mother ready to scorch the earth for her child is one of my favorite types of characters, and ube is delicious. This was a passionate piece, and I enjoyed every bit of it. You placed your MC in between two very different places and let her pull the two together. Great job, Alexis!

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Alexis Araneta
00:38 May 05, 2024

Hey, LeeAnn ! I'm so happy that a writer like you who I admire so much likes this story ! Like I mentioned in other comments, my brain immediately went to diaspora and immigration when I saw the prompt (It may be because I read too much Khaled Hosseni and Chitra Banerjee Divrakuni. Hahahaha !). Indeed, when the racism happens to your child, you are ready to burn everything down. Thank you so much for always reading my stuff. Your time invested in it is always appreciated !

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Hazel Ide
18:20 May 04, 2024

This is really beautiful and not at all where I expected the story to go. One of the cool things about that prompt is that everyone's stories went to a totally different place. I also really liked the tone you used, like you were speaking so directly to the reader. Very nice. Thank you for sharing!

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Alexis Araneta
18:35 May 04, 2024

So happy you liked it, Hazel ! Yes, I wanted to sort of bring the readers into it, as if to account for those who have the same amount of prejudice as the mums who shunned her. Glad you liked it ! Indeed, it's fascinating to see how one prompt can spark different stories. Thanks for reading, as usual !

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Stephen Laviera
17:01 May 04, 2024

*Applauding* This is by far your best narrative yet. Thought provoking, evocative and relevantly passionate. It read and felt like the second part to J.D Salinger's Raise The Roof Beams High, Carpenters. Top to bottom start to finish. Bravo paisana, asolumente maraviglioso!!

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Alexis Araneta
18:12 May 04, 2024

Hi, Stephen !! Oh my ! Thank you so much for the compliment. Like I mentioned in other comments, as soon as I saw the prompt, writing a diaspora and immigration story came to mind. I'm so happy you liked it. Que je suis tellement heureuse que tu l'aies aimé ! Merci, comme toujours, pour la lecture !

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Stephen Laviera
16:15 May 07, 2024

Vous êtes les bienvenus. Everyone's approach to writing is quite different. I appreciate your unique voice.

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Claire Marsh
09:04 May 04, 2024

Well done Alexis. You've taken the title and given it new life. Relatable, very real feeling and engaging. I've also learned what ube is!

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Alexis Araneta
09:10 May 04, 2024

Thank you so much, Claire ! I'm happy my first foray into writing diaspora literature went well.

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Patrick Druid
19:40 May 03, 2024

Nicely done and if I may say..."Mabuhay!".

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Alexis Araneta
19:59 May 03, 2024

Ha ! Fun fact: We actually never say "mabuhay" to each other. It's more of a tourist thing. Maraming salamat sa bagbabasa ng maikling kwentong ito, sa pag gugol ng oras sa pag-komento. Masaya akong nagustuhan mo ito. (Thanks for reading this short story, for taking time to comment. I'm happy you liked it.)

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Patrick Druid
20:17 May 03, 2024

Your welcome! Thank you for the info on "mabuhay". Yes, I liked the story and yes.the subject matter is very relevant. Thank you for writing !

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Ana M
19:32 May 03, 2024

What an amazing story! Your words paint a vivid picture of love, resilience, and the universal longing for understanding.

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Alexis Araneta
19:55 May 03, 2024

Thank you so much, Ana ! Glad the story resonated with you !

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Brian Haddad
06:04 May 03, 2024

I studied Arabic under a man whose English made him sound as educated as a 10-year-old boy. In his home country in the middle east he was a nuclear physicist. I once spent the better part of an hour with a friend from the Philippines trying to learn how to properly pronounce "good morning" in Filipino (magandang umaga) while she introduced me to durian. I liked the durian and my "magandang umaga" is passable, I hope. I once moved to Mexico and lived there for the better part of two years, learning to speak fluent Spanish and blend in with ...

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Alexis Araneta
06:12 May 03, 2024

Brian, reading all your experiences trying to dive into other cultures through art, language, and (well) living there truly makes me smile. Every culture has something unique to offer; that's why I love getting to know them too (Plus, you know, I'm mixed, so I'm literally a product of cultures coming together). Precisely that. Like a visitor to a city, some people just want to focus on the surface of others when there's so much inside. I'm so happy you liked the story. Like I said, when I saw the prompt, writing about living in a diaspora ...

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