"The Lady in the Black Hat" by Smriti Karki ('25)

This was twenty years back when I was a young girl of twenty in the greatest city on

Earth, New York. I got here on a diversity visa that my mom forced me to apply for, back in

Nepal. I had completed my high school but had no interest in studying any further. I knew that if I took it seriously, I would have been so good because I have a brilliant mind but I simply did not get the point. I remember I was in my physics class and I read that a Greek philosopher named Aristotle had said something like, “Give me a fulcrum and I will turn the world.” It sounded like he was just stoned and said a random thing but a whole discussion started in my class about how great the quote is. I could come up with crap like that if I was high. I had no interest in any particular subject so this was my chance to escape studies. Cut to the chase, I flew to the US to earn dollars for me and my family doing menial jobs.

Then I got a job as a juice girl in a grocery store in New York. It paid minimum wage and the job was not that tough. I needed to make juices and smoothies and keep a smile on my face even if I was in a mood to kill myself and everybody else in the room. Once in a while, I had to sweep and mop, but I like jobs that do not require me to use my brain and just let me do something repeatedly, while I can still be singing or imagining myself in an interview and having self-conversation.

At this job I met a lady named Gabriela, or Gaby as everyone called her. She was the manager of the store. At first, Gaby, seemed to me a simple woman in her early forties, who was from the Philippines, worked in that store and had a pretty normal life. She always wore dresses. Even in the winter, she layered the dresses with trousers and a black jacket and a black hat but I swear, I never saw her in anything other than dresses. For whatever weird reason, she used her iPhone within the case it came in. She also wore heels—like, why would somebody do that to their feet while working a menial job in New York?

As the days passed, I learned how she had not taken a break in 20 years, not gotten sick, not taken a holiday and not gone back to her country. I learned that she was unmarried and had an apartment on her own. At first, I didn’t have any particular feelings towards her but then I started not liking her. She had the craziest mood swings. In one moment, she could be telling me to take care of my health because it’s winter and the next moment, she could be yelling at me for the simplest of things. And she was so nosy and judgmental. I am certain that for twenty years, she did nothing but keep an eye on every customer and know everything about them. Once she told me that a guy who came in to get carrot juice everyday had a thing for Julia, another of our regular customers but then according to her, Julia was only interested in tall guys with blue eyes. Why would she be concerned about someone else so much and from where was she getting this information?  The store had a black cat which was technically hers and the only time I saw her talk in a nice, polite way was to the cat, Mimi.

The place belonged to a Korean couple. They were both in their seventies. They were so old that any minute I could hear their bones snap while carrying a bucket or rolling a shopping cart. They wore masks 24/7 due to the fear of the recent Covid pandemic. I could never tell if they were smiling, angry, surprised or just plain zombie-like people with no expressions. The husband was a short- tempered, stubborn person with an Asian accent. He had a traditional way of running the store: entering amounts manually, keeping things in a stack one by one, and putting tags on the merchandise one by one. The world was online and he was still there with his newspaper. The wife was a short lady who had pretty eyes. But then I saw her face without a mask and that is when I knew how masks can be misleading. She was really bad at speaking English even after staying in the US for many years. Sometimes I got nothing out of what she said. She spoke 90% Korean and 10% English and she did not even realize it. It was fine when it was just statements because I could simply nod my head. But when it was a question, I did not know how to respond. I always looked for some cues so that I would be able to decode what she was saying but it got harder and harder.

One time, when I had worked in the store for three months already, a regular customer with bluish green eyes walked in.

“Hi Gaby. Hi young girl.” That was what he called me. “May I have my usual please?”

I started to make his celery juice.

Gaby started talking to him.

“Oh Gaby, do you ever take a break?”

“No, now this job is what it is.”

“Don’t you wanna paste wedding photos on the walls? Have a little date in the central park? Go out for vacations?”

“No, and why Central Park though, out of all places?” she asked but she sounded really curious from her tone.

“Just a thought. When did you last go on a date?” He asked.

“When I was 19, back in the Philippines. Surprisingly, I clearly remember that still after all these years.”

“19? For God’s sake Gaby, give some time to yourself. Life is not all about work.”

Gaby just smiled.

He took his juice and left.

I knew Gaby would start her chatter and there she went: “He and his wife always go out for vacations. There has not been a week they have missed.”

I wondered if she was genuinely concerned about other people or if she was just lonely and filling that void with this information. What would it be like to come every day to the store and go home to no one? For me, I was twenty. I had all my life ahead. She was already forty and alone in this big city. Her only friends were the regular customers that came to the store. I always assumed she had no friends outside of that. First, she never talked about any and secondly, when would she have time to make one?

One evening a week later, a black car stopped in front of the store. Two men in suits entered. They looked like Indians but I was not sure. They walked towards Gaby who was at the next cash register not too far from the juice counter. She looked a little shaken.

The shorter one with a bald head said, “And it wasn’t hard to find you now, was it? Now bring us that money before we have to take action.”

Gaby looked at me and then looked back at them.

“Can you please not do this at my workplace? If I get fired, there’s no way you are getting that money.”

I could hear everything but pretended like I could not and tried to look calm. I was just trying not to make her feel uncomfortable.

“We’re giving you a week’s time. Don’t complain later. You won’t be able to anyway.”

They left the store. The car’s noise receded and the car drove away.

As expected, Gaby did not talk to me about it. She stayed quiet about the whole thing like nothing happened. But after that, things had changed. Gaby turned into a different person. She started to be late to work. One day, I even smelled alcohol on her. She had no focus in her work. I was pissed at her behavior because my work had increased because of her irresponsibility. I was curious, too. What made her behave that way? Was it about that incident? Who were those guys? Is her life in danger? How much more is there to know about her than she shows? Every day now, she was behaving strangely. One day, I also found her smoking a cigarette when I went for my lunch break. However, everything came to an end when one day, she disappeared. It was Saturday. The store was busy and Gaby was late as always. The boss kept calling and calling her only to find out that she would not pick up and she would never pick up.

Years passed. I often thought about Gaby. Sometimes I wondered why she took that money? Could it be to come to the US? Gambling? The black cat died a week after she left. The cat completed its 20 years and so did Gaby in that store. No idea where she went. Never heard anything from her.

Twenty years later, I am the manager of the store now. There is a newly appointed juice girl. She is in her early twenties. She is bubbly and carefree. I wonder what being like that feels like. She turns to me. She tells me, “C’mon Miki, please go on dates, for god’s sake.”

“Date? Who got time for that?”

I have deja vu. Gaby and that customer flashed before my eyes. I have given twenty years to the store. Time flies fast here. The commute is much easier now, thanks to bullet trains. I am planning to take an apartment in Manhattan anyway. I have even looked for one. But all this time, I got submerged into the life in New York that life slipped away from my hands. I think this is what happened to Gaby, too.

The day is over. I look at the mirror, grab my black hat ready to leave, return to an apartment of emptiness with the thought, “I have to go to work again tomorrow morning.”