{"id":732,"date":"2019-05-01T19:52:06","date_gmt":"2019-05-01T23:52:06","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/sites.cortland.edu\/crystallize\/?page_id=732"},"modified":"2020-07-17T12:14:19","modified_gmt":"2020-07-17T16:14:19","slug":"elizabeth-hernandez","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/sites.cortland.edu\/crystallize\/nonfiction\/elizabeth-hernandez\/","title":{"rendered":"Elizabeth Hernandez"},"content":{"rendered":"

Baby, There\u2019s a Shark in the Water<\/span><\/b>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The moment I told my mom I was bisexual was when I had first sunk down into the water. My body had been abandoned in the ocean and I was stuck in this vast empty space. My legs were pricked with goosebumps. My mom\u2019s green eyes turned to a dim shade of grey. She let out a heavy sigh and then stayed quiet. She didn\u2019t address me, or the situation in which I just presented her. She just spun on her heels and continued to cook dinner. I wouldn\u2019t survive out here alone; but when I had called out in the ocean, there was nothing in reply. My mom wasn\u2019t there.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

My dad floated by in a row boat sometimes, but he never really got too close. He asked me if I wanted to go to his barber, so I could get a short haircut. He held a life vest out to the air, but he never threw it to me.\u00a0 When I told him that I had no intention of cutting my hair, he simply replied \u201cwell, whenever you\u2019re ready\u201d. I still have long hair today.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Sometimes the water was warmer; like the first time I came out to my best friend Rachel, and she was riddled with questions. How did I know? Who did I like? What should I do? The warmth in her voice would ripple through the water like waves and surround me with love. That warmth kept my body alive.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Other times the water was cold; the first time I came out to my best friend Preston, she became very quiet. I was asked to leave her house politely. She slowly became colder and colder until the water started to freeze. The waves became fragile strips of ice that pierced through my chest. She never invited me to her house again. When she told people that she feared I would touch her in her sleep, that icy friendship shattered inside of me.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

When I came out to Charlotte was the only day I was out of the water. With Charlotte, I could be in the world again. With Charlotte, I was finally not alone anymore. On an old bridge in the woods is where I asked her to go to prom with me. It was our favorite bridge. The wood was aged with muddy footprints.\u00a0 Some of the planks were bent and cracked with trilliums and baby spruce trees trying their hardest to reach up and tickle our ankles. The tree\u2019s above us made an archway above our heads as the dragonflies and woodland fairies made homes in their trunks. When I would look behind me the tree\u2019s archway had opened to reveal a grassy field where the sky kissed the ground.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Charlotte always held my hand as we crossed; she was my sturdy arm on this balance beam of a world.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

That was until I pulled her into the water with me.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

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

The first time I saw Charlotte on prom night I was stunned by how beautiful she was. We matched; but I wore a two-piece dress. The skirt was simple, a long black fabric that hugged my hips as if they were old friends. The bottom flowed where it wished, and on occasion reached up to tickle my ankles; just like the flowers underneath our favorite bridge. The top of the dress was the kicker. The dark tan fabric ran tight against my skin. A zipper ran down my spine that held the second line of fabric on top. The black lace ran tight against the dark tan fabric, forming just as effortlessly to me. The same combination of fabrics that molded my shirt made the pinstripe down each side of Charlotte\u2019s romper. Her legs stretch for miles accompanied by a soft black material that continued up her stomach and dropped deep behind her, leaving her open back vulnerable to the night\u2019s sky.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

With our dress and romper on, we slid into the water and waited.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Before Junior Prom, the only situations in which I had to \u2018come out of the closet\u2019 were easier because I was with an individual person. At least when I was in the water before, I was alone. That gave me the chance to explain.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

When Charlotte came into the water, everything changed. A ballroom floor came rushing up from underneath us. The open sky was covered by a giant white tent above our heads. Music played in the background, but the soundwaves couldn\u2019t break through the water; it made me ears hurt.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Suddenly, people were in my water. The voices were even more muffled than the music. Their faces were blank. I had been alone for so long that I forgot how to recognize my friends, forgot how to say hello, forgot how to understand who I was.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

My anticipation to see everyone was so great that I practically walked into the giant fleshy palm that blocked my view of the tent. The palm ran up an arm covered in a suit that didn\u2019t fit properly. His face was twisted into fear and anger. \u201cDo you have your permission slip?\u201d Initially I was confused, until I saw Charlotte reach into her small bag and pull out this folded piece of paper. Her fingers ran along each corner of the papers as her thumb wedged its way into the folds. Her eyes refused to meet mine. When the paper was open it read \u2018Consent\u00a0<\/span>For<\/span>\u00a0Partnership\u2019. I thought these were for students that didn\u2019t go to our\u00a0school?\u00a0Why was my name signed at the bottom? Charlotte finally turned to look at me. We hadn\u2019t even walked into the ballroom, but it seemed like her energy was already running thin; the signatures on the bottom were clearly her handwriting.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

All of\u00a0the people walking around in my water started a heavy current. I couldn\u2019t keep balance in my heels and all of it made me dizzy.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

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

The dancefloor, a place of usual carelessness and free spirits, quickly became a prison. The people with no faces turned into high school boys with sweat dripping past the pimples on their neck to stain the shirts the mothers bought for them; but there was still something different about them. Slowly each of their backs arched and twisted and their shark fin grew from their spine. Their fingers melted and glued themselves together to create pointed fins.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The insecure dates of the boys scurried to the corners of the room full of whispers and rude remarks like a school of tiny fish. The girls did anything they could to stay alive. Fortunately for them, the sharks were hungry from something else. They wanted the flesh and blood of Charlotte and I to spill out on the floor.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The dancefloor had turned into a shark tank. The white tent above our heads turned into clear glass. The hard-wooden floor around us grew into walls.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

There was a sharp pain in my arm; Charlotte was digging her nails into my skin. The shirt that had once fit me so well had turned against me. It constricted my chest and inched it\u2019s way closer and closer to my neck. The zipper created its very own slide of ice down my spine. The skirt that once tickled my ankle now pricked and prodded until it ran with blood. Charlotte\u2019s skin was flushed to as white as the paper we had to sign to get in. We were weak, and the sharks could smell my blood.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The muffled yells of the boys got louder and louder. Their teeth grew into daggers. They flashed grins full of teeth and tapped into their instinctual need to hurt.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The first yell, \u201chey ladies!\u201d, the sharks first bite.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Then the second, \u201ckiss her!\u201d, and my first leg was gone.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCome on!\u201d, second leg gone.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGive us a show!\u201d, one of the shark\u2019s bites at my arm.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with you?!\u201d, both arms gone.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cKiss her!\u201d, bleeding.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cKiss her!\u201d, bleeding.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cKiss her!\u201d, bleeding.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

As my body was ripped apart, I looked up to see Charlotte\u2019s body cracked and crumbled in fear. I lost her hands. I lost her eyes which just begged to show their regular kindness. The sharks took that away from her. They took it away from me.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

We were both dying inside and out.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Charlotte only felt darkness at a time where she was the only light I had left. I wish I had told her that.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The first time I came out to my art teacher Travis was a lot of fun. He wasn\u2019t in the water himself, but he built a home on an island nearby. Charlotte was an artist like no other. Her mind twisted and turned down these dark, beautiful roads that lead to the most extraordinary paintings. Travis and Charlotte would fill the water with warm colors and turned it into something beautiful. She made her paintings and I made my jewelry. Travis was always in his home working on his photography. When he saw the two of our outfits in synchronization with Charlotte linked on my arm, a tear rolled down his cheek and floated over to me.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The second time I came out to my art teacher Travis, he pulled us out of the shark tank. The glass above our heads shattered and sprinkled down into the water from above. Travis dove into the circle of sharks and he faced them head on. He had a power that I could never obtain. His voice boomed and shook the water until all the sharks scattered. Travis brought us a safety boat and I still thank him for that today.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u201cI love you.\u201d<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI love you too.\u201d\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Distinguished Voices Personal Essay Prize Finalist
\nSelected by Elissa Washuta<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

\"\"Elizabeth Hernandez<\/strong> is an Inclusive Education major at SUNY Cortland. Her hometown is Londonderry, Vermont where she\u2019s learned to love escaping to the woods to write or draw in her journal. Her passion for the outside world has led to many strong and beautiful relationships in her life. Through exploring the world with those people, Elizabeth hopes to teach with strength and positivity so that all of her students and loved ones will reach their personal success.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Back<\/a><\/p>\n

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

Baby, There\u2019s a Shark in the Water\u00a0 The moment I told my mom I was bisexual was when I had first sunk down into the water. My body had been abandoned in the ocean and I was stuck in this vast empty space. My legs were pricked with goosebumps. My mom\u2019s green eyes turned to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":130,"featured_media":0,"parent":702,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":{"0":"post-732","1":"page","2":"type-page","3":"status-publish","5":"entry"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.cortland.edu\/crystallize\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/732","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.cortland.edu\/crystallize\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.cortland.edu\/crystallize\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.cortland.edu\/crystallize\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/130"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.cortland.edu\/crystallize\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=732"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/sites.cortland.edu\/crystallize\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/732\/revisions"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.cortland.edu\/crystallize\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/702"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.cortland.edu\/crystallize\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=732"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}