Reina Gammarino

Polaroid

She had been sipping the same hot chocolate for thirteen years. 

Lifting a white mug the size of her head, she could barely see over the table. Dried remnants of cocoa formed a dark cloud around her mouth. Her eyes were dazed as she stared into the dusty lens of a Polaroid camera, which was creating a copy of her that would last a long time, pinned neatly to the wall of the coffee shop.

The little girl in the photo observed the waves of people who came and went. Most were college students, writing essays and studying for exams. Others were locals who would stop for a coffee every morning before work and chat with the owner. As the Polaroid’s chemicals grew faint, the girl kept watch, awaiting her own return.

Meanwhile, her original had moved to the other side of the island, made new friends, and studied hard. So much had changed that when that girl decided to come back thirteen years later to the coffee shop, two weeks before leaving for college, the girl in the Polaroid almost didn’t recognize her. Instead of a ponytail, the girl’s hair fell in flowing waves over her shoulders. And she was big. She could see well above the table, and when she caught sight of the faded photo pinned to the corkboard, she could have sworn she saw the little girl’s eyes light up. But when she blinked and looked again, the little girl had disappeared from the photo altogether, leaving only an odd photo of an empty table.

Then she felt a flicker. A tap. As if someone was tugging on her arm from below. 

She looked down. The little girl stood half as tall as she was, pulling her towards a table. She surrendered.

A steaming, half-full mug of hot chocolate awaited them. The little girl grabbed it and started sipping, gazing up with that same dazed, carefree expression she had in the photo. She sat down on the far side of the table and fidgeted with her legs, giggling when she made eye contact with the big girl. “Sit down,” she instructed. 

The big girl did.

“Do you still like Power Rangers?” the little girl asked excitedly. “Which one’s your favorite?” 

“I… I don’t know. I haven’t watched that in a long time. I like the red one, I think?” 

“Me too,” the little girl replied. She stared out the window; the sun was setting, casting bright, golden rays across the cafe. Without thinking, the big girl had also turned towards the sun, warming her face in the yellow glow. 

“How old are you?” the little girl eventually asked. “Are you in high school now?”

“Seventeen,” the big girl responded. “I just finished high school, actually.”

“Oh wow,” the little girl remarked, setting down her hot chocolate. She looked amazed, staring intently at the big girl with bulging, curious eyes. “So what are you going to do now?” the little girl asked. “Move out like Andy in Toy Story? Or, I know, are you gonna become a professional athlete?”

The big girl laughed. “Aw man, I wish, but probably not. But yeah, I’m moving out.”

“What are you gonna do for your job?” the little girl asked.

It made the big girl sad somehow, knowing the little girl was thinking about her career already.

“I don’t really know, but I’m studying international relations, so I might become a diplomat,” the big girl said, wondering if the little girl knew what a diplomat was. 

“Ooh,” the little girl said. “Is that fun?”

“Mm… I think so?” the big girl said, sounding uncertain. “I’ll get to travel a lot.” 

“Yay!” the little girl exclaimed. Then she paused. “But what about becoming a musician? Or writer?” 

“Yeah I want to do music too. And write,” the big girl said. “I just… don’t know how to start.”

“Start what?” the little girl asked. 

“Everything. Life.”

“Hasn’t your life already started?”

“Kind of,” the big girl said, staring blankly. “I don’t know.” 

“But what about me? I’m part of your life, aren’t I?” The little girl peered nervously from behind her mug. 

“Of course you are.” The big girl felt herself choke up as she said the words, but the little girl didn’t notice. Instead, she smiled, relieved. Then she let out a giggle.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to get married too,” the little girl scoffed, waving her hand in front of her and accidentally knocking her mug to the floor. Luckily, the mug stayed intact, but what was left of the–thankfully lukewarm–hot chocolate splashed all over the big girl’s hands. 

After picking up the mug, the little girl tried to wipe off the hot chocolate from the big girl, leaving big brown smears across her hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can go wash it off in the bathroom. Are you okay staying out here by yourself?”

The little girl nodded enthusiastically, but the big girl couldn’t help thinking she looked like she was about to cry, which sent a pang through the big girl’s body, as if she had just been kicked in the stomach.

Brows furrowed, she walked to the bathroom. Soaking her hands in the cold water of the sink, she looked at herself in the mirror and thought about all that had just transpired. A weight settled on her chest. Was it guilt maybe? She’d been through so much since she’d been that little girl–all the crying and hyperventilating, heartache and disillusionment. All that pain was waiting for the little girl, whose pupils still radiated hope and light, and who seemed so carefree, like she could jump to the moon and not worry about the way back down.

She dried her hands and then pushed open the bathroom door. She made her way to the table where they had just been sitting, but the little girl was now nowhere to be found. 

She looked around the cafe, which was darker now, the night having swept over the city. She scanned the corkboard of Polaroids on the wall, all those lives frozen in time, and she searched, in vain, for that little girl.

Leaving the cafe, she vowed to herself that, even if it took the rest of her life, she would find her again.

Author’s Bio

Reina Gammarino is a college freshman from Kaneohe, Hawaii. In her free time, she loves to write, play music, run, and perform card magic. One day, she hopes to travel the world as a diplomat and write a full-length novel. For now, she loves taking part in events at the Kelly Writers House at the University of Pennsylvania, and taking long bike rides throughout the city.

Photo courtesy Reina and Tom Gammarino