What You Wish For

By Sarah Romanov

My best friend Zara is convinced she’s part genie. Seriously, I’m sitting here at her sixteenth birthday party watching her twirl around the courtyard tossing pink powder at the guests.

“Your wish is my command!” she exclaims each time she throws a handful, laughing as she spins, colorful puffs glittering around her.

People smile, but they’re smiles of pity. I’ve heard what they say about her. It makes me sad, because I know how wonderful she is. But in our close-knit Indian community, believing in genies—especially believing you are one—tends to skew people’s judgment, and not in your favor.

It doesn’t help that her parents have indulged her in this fantasy since she was a child, telling her stories of her supposed genie ancestry.

“Aisha, come dance with me!” Zara pulls me to my feet. Her brown eyes sparkle with joy.

“I’ve danced too much already! My feet are sore.”

“Make a wish for me to heal you! Maybe my powers will work now that I’m sixteen.”

“Zara…”

“No wishes for you?” She laughs. “Fine, let’s go have some more ginger lemonade. All this dancing is making me thirsty!”

We refresh ourselves with the sweet and spicy drink, then Zara returns to her dancing. At least here nobody openly mocks her like some kids do at school.

As the party draws to a close, Auntie Priya approaches, her eyebrows furrowed, and lips pursed.

“Aisha, I wish to say something.” She sighs. “You are Zara’s closest friend. Help her realize the truth. She is no longer a child, and she must learn to live in reality.”

I nod because Auntie’s right. If she’s going to listen to anyone, it will be me. But that doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to the conversation.

Zara spends the night at my house, but it’s late so we go straight to bed. Maybe the right words will come to me in my dreams.

I sleep well and wake up feeling refreshed in spite of the humid morning. Zara and I prepare breakfast—warm naan with mango jam and hot, sweet masala chai. And I make a decision as we eat at the tiny kitchen table.

“Zara, you aren’t really a genie. You know that, right?” I hope she hears the love in my voice.

She stops chewing for a moment, then finishes her bite and swallows. She looks at me intently. “I never said I was a genie. I said I have genie blood.” Her voice is firm. “Like I’ve told you before, my great-great-great grandmother…”

“Right, she released a genie and made a wish that he would marry her.”

“Yes. He granted her wish, and since I’m descended from them, it’s possible that I could get genie powers!”

I try not to roll my eyes. “Genies are just legends, Zara. Stories for children. Even if they were real, they probably couldn’t marry humans.” I sigh. “Maybe it’s time to stop pretending? It was fun when we were kids, but we’re almost women now. People… talk.”

Her eyes fill with unshed tears. “I don’t care about their opinions, Aisha. But I thought you—of all people—believed me!” She reaches across the table, taking both my hands in hers. “You’re my best friend. Why are you saying this now?”

“What you believe is… It’s impossible.”

She looks away, but not before I see the longing and pain in her eyes.

I squeeze her hands. “Honestly, I wish it were true! I wish you could prove everyone wrong. I wish with all my heart that you really were a genie!”

Zara gasps. She’s staring at me with an odd mixture of fear and joy in her expression. Her hands grow strangely warm.

Suddenly I’m grasping nothing but air.

And instant regret.

Occupying the space Zara once sat is a small cloud of pink dust. It settles slowly, colorful specks floating gently in her unfinished chai.

I push my chair back and stand, staring at my pink-stained fingers in disbelief. And I hear Zara’s voice, faintly, as if she’s already far away.

“Your wish is my command.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sarah Romanov is originally from Oregon, but currently lives in Northern California with her husband and daughter, their Havanese dog (Biscuit), and a bunch of chickens and ducks. She loves to read, write, proofread, and learn foreign languages (Spanish and Russian). She believes God has called her to write, and she’s currently having fun honing her craft and exploring all the possibilities that entails. Soli Deo gloria!