The Love and Lies of Rukhsana Ali

by Sabina Khan

  As I tried to stop from howling with laughter, Irfan winked at me. The guy was pure evil.

  “Irfan, have you met my niece, Rukhsana?” Aunty Meena asked, once she regained her composure. “She is graduating this year and going to Caltech in the fall.” Clearly, word had gotten out. Mom certainly hadn’t wasted any time in laying the groundwork. She knew having a daughter in Caltech would make her look better in the Bengali community. And no doubt give her an added advantage when the marriage proposals started coming.

  We exchanged greetings and then, luckily for me, another group of mothers swarmed Irfan. I left Aunty Meena in the thick of it to find my parents.

  “Rukhsana, come and say hello.” I turned to see who was speaking and saw Mrs. Rahim standing by the gifts table. She was the local Bengali teacher my parents had sent me to for a few years to learn how to speak and write Bengali fluently. Thanks to her, I spoke it well enough to pass scrutiny from even the most critical relative I came across at family functions.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Ali, you must be looking for a groom for Rukhsana, no?” she said as Mom and Dad joined us. She was also a self-appointed matchmaker, always keeping her eyes and ears open for potential Bengali sons and daughters of marriageable age.

  “No, Mrs. Rahim, Rukhsana will be going to university to study physics and astronomy. So, we will not be looking for a husband until she is finished.” I smiled at my dad gratefully as Mrs. Rahim scrunched up her eyebrows at this foreign notion.

  “That is very good, Rukhsana. Congratulations.” She smiled at me, her mouth at odds with her eyes. She turned to Dad again.

  “But, Ibrahim Bhai, aren’t you worried that Rukhsana will be too old by the time she’s finished?”

  Mom had been standing silently next to Dad during the exchange, but now I saw a vein throbbing visibly on her forehead.

  “Mrs. Rahim, how is your daughter?” Mom interjected, saving Dad the trouble of answering. “I was so sad to hear about Shabnam’s situation. It must be difficult for you to see her like this. A divorced woman with no job. It’s a good thing she has you.”

  Mom could throw shade with the best of them. Mrs. Rahim mumbled something about food and slinked away, no doubt to find another unsuspecting parent.

  “Who does that Mrs. Rahim think she is?” Mom fumed on our way home from the wedding. “Telling us what to do with our own daughter.”

  “Zubaida, why do you care what she says?” Dad said soothingly, but it did little to calm her.

  My feet hurt from standing around in high heels for so long and I kicked them off as I relaxed in the back seat of my dad’s Toyota.

  “These are the kinds of things I’m worried about,” Mom said, still riled up. “This is why I don’t want you to go so far away, Rukhsana.” She turned a little to look at me in the back seat. “Who knows what rumors these busybodies will start when you’re gone?”

  “Let them say whatever they want,” Dad said. “We know our Rukhsana will finish her degree and come back to us. Then there will be plenty of time to find a nice boy and she will get married.” He looked at me in the rearview mirror and I was grateful for the cover of darkness.

  “You’re home late. How was it?” Aamir asked when I passed by his room. He stretched lazily, one hand still clutching his video game controller.

  “It was fine,” I said dismissively. “Is that thing welded to your hand or something?”

  He stuck his tongue out at me. “Any cute girls at the wedding?”

  “Maybe you should have come with us instead of pretending you had too much homework,” I said.

  “Nah, it’s not worth it.” He shrugged.

  “Well, you missed out. The food was great and there were a lot of pretty girls. Nasreen’s sister was asking about you,” I teased.

  “You’re such a liar,” he said, turning his attention back to his game. “The last time I saw her, she wouldn’t even look at me.”

  I plopped myself on the edge of his bed with a dramatic sigh.

  Aamir turned to me with a knowing look on his face. Despite Mom’s blatant favoritism, which he took full advantage of, Aamir always knew when something was bothering me.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, putting the controller down.

  When I didn’t reply immediately, he rolled his eyes.

  “C’mon, you know you’re going to tell me sooner or later, so just tell me what’s going on.” For someone whose mission in life was to annoy me, Aamir was surprisingly insightful when it really mattered.

  “It’s nothing … Just, at the wedding, Mom got so upset at Mrs. Rahim because she made some stupid comment about me going to Caltech. I’m so scared of how she’ll react when she finds out about Ariana and me.”

  “Wait,” Aamir said, turning his chair all the way around until he was facing me. “I thought the plan was not to tell her until you two are in California.”

  “It was, but lately it’s been so hard.” Tears of frustration pooled in my eyes and I dabbed at them angrily with the aanchal of my sari. “For Ariana, especially. It really hurts her that I haven’t told Mom and Dad yet. I’ve tried to explain it to her, but she just doesn’t know how bad it could get. She thinks they’ll just get mad and ground me or something.”

  Aamir snorted. “Yeah, right. That would be nice. Of course they’re going to freak out. And they wouldn’t let you go to Caltech, that’s for sure.”

  Aamir looked at me with such a serious expression on his face. I felt guilty for burdening him with my problems.

  “Rukhsana, I know I always give you a hard time, but you have to listen to me. Please don’t tell them anything yet. I know it’s difficult with Ariana right now, but she’ll just have to understand.”

  He drew me in for a hug and that’s when I knew he was really worried for me. Aamir was not the hugging type.

  “I won’t say anything yet, I promise,” I said in what I hoped was a reassuring tone.

  He was absolutely right. I couldn’t let my mom or Mrs. Rahim or even Ariana push me into making a huge mistake. It was my future, my whole life that would change if my parents stopped me from going to Caltech. I couldn’t risk it.

  I got up and planted a big, wet kiss on Aamir’s forehead. He scrunched up his face in disgust, but I knew he was faking it.

  “Will you be okay?” he asked, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.

  I nodded, walking to the door. “I think so. I just have to figure things out with Ariana.”

  I heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

  “Get into bed,” I whispered to Aamir, stepping out and shutting his door quickly before my parents figured out that he was still awake.

  Back in my room, I took a selfie and sent it to Ariana, wishing she could see me dressed up like this. I didn’t expect her to be up this late, but a few seconds later there was a ping.

  I smiled as I texted her back.

  I waited in line at this new French fry place in the mall called Franken-Fries, looking over the menu. They were known for their monstrous culinary creations, combining ingredients that should never work together, but somehow magically do. I decided on the sriracha and peanut butter fries, but before I could order I felt Ariana’s hand slip into mine and her lips on my cheek.

  I froze instantly, fear making my arms go numb. We were in public, at the mall, and there were at least a hundred people who could have seen us. A hundred people who would tell a hundred more, and by the time I got home, my parents would have heard that I was making out with a girl in the food court.

  These thoughts were crashing around in my head like waves, and I didn’t realize until it was too late that Ariana had noticed. She had felt the way I stiffened at her touch and drew away. It was not going to be easy to make her understand just how terrified I was of what would happen if anyone in my community found out. How it would ruin my family, but mostly how it would ruin my entire life.

  I ran after Ariana as she made her way to the restrooms, but by the time I got there she had
already locked herself in one of the small family bathrooms. I waited by the exit, feeling powerless as a wave of guilt washed over me.

  Just then my cell phone pinged. It was Rachel, wondering where Ariana and I were.

  I saw her and Jen across the food court and flagged them down. We found a table near the restrooms so I would see Ariana when she came out.

  “Hey! Where’s Ariana?” Jen asked as soon as we sat down.

  “She got pissed at me and ran into the bathroom.” I told them what happened and they didn’t even try to hide their disapproval.

  “I don’t know why you can’t just tell your parents,” Jen said, her eyebrows knitted together in irritation. “I mean, it’s the twenty-first century, I think your parents will get over it.”

  “Yeah,” Rachel chimed in. “I mean, what’s the worst they’ll do? Ground you?”

  I pushed back a hysterical laugh as I listened to them. They really had no idea.

  “C’mon, you guys, you’ve known my parents for years. You know how strict they are. They won’t just ground me, they’ll probably lock me away, and I could definitely kiss Caltech goodbye.”

  My shoulders sagged at the thought of giving up everything I’d dreamed about since I was little.

  “Okay, honestly, Rukhsana, I think you’re exaggerating a little,” Rachel said. “I mean, yes, of course your parents will be pissed, and yes, they’ll probably threaten you with all kinds of things, but do you really think they’ll go that far?”

  They both looked at me as if I was crazy and I wondered, as I had many times lately, if they really knew me at all. Sometimes it felt as though all they saw was the Rukhsana who went to school with them and hung out and went to parties. They couldn’t see the Rukhsana who was torn up inside because she had to lie to her family all the time, had to pretend to be something she wasn’t. And even Ariana. How could she not get what I was going through? It had been so much easier for her. Yes, her parents had been shocked initially when she came out to them, but they had attended counseling sessions together and seemed to be in a good place now.

  If my parents found out it would tear our family apart. I was sure of it. I looked up just then to see Ariana walk out of the restroom, and I quickly went to her.

  “Ariana, I’m so sorry. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

  She refused to look at me, but at least she wasn’t walking away.

  “Ariana …” I didn’t even know what to say anymore. It felt like we were having the same fight over and over again.

  She sighed then and looked at me, tears pooling in her eyes, and my heart broke a little. I was doing this to her and I couldn’t bear it.

  “Rukhsana, you keep saying that you didn’t mean it like that. So why don’t you explain it to me, then? How did you mean it exactly when you shied away from me, like I’m contagious or something?”

  I felt the frustration rise in me like bile.

  “Do you think I have a choice? Do you think I don’t want to hold your hand or kiss you when we’re out together? I’ve told you this before, Ariana. Maybe you don’t get just how serious this is for me. Any one of my mom’s friends or relatives could have seen us! How long do you think it would be before they tell my parents? Do you have any idea what would happen?” My eyes were filling with tears too, from the strain of not being able to yell the way I wanted to and because I could see that I wasn’t getting through to her.

  Jen and Rachel came up to us and I just stood there, not knowing what else to do.

  “Ariana, are you okay?” Rachel put her arm around Ariana’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. “Do you want to get some frozen yogurt?”

  Ariana nodded as she blew her nose. Jen looked at me.

  “Do you want to come too?” she said, looking from me to Ariana.

  I looked at Ariana but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. My shoulders slumped.

  “No, it’s okay, you guys go ahead. I’m just going to go home.”

  They both shrugged sympathetically, but it was clear they were relieved I’d opted not to come. I made my way home on the bus, and by the time I got there I had decided. I was going to tell my mom. I didn’t even care about the consequences anymore. If it was going to cost me my relationship with Ariana to keep this secret, then it wasn’t worth it. I’d figure out a way to go to Caltech. It wasn’t as though I needed them to pay for any of it, and once I was eighteen they couldn’t really stop me short of physically locking me up. My life was not an Indian drama serial. This was Seattle in the twenty-first century. Things like that didn’t happen. I wouldn’t let them.

  Determined to talk to my mom as soon as I could get her alone, I walked in the front door to see Aunty Meena sitting on the couch with my mom next to her.

  The day just kept getting better.

  “Assalaam alaikum, Aunty Meena,” I said, bending to kiss her cheek. Today she had decided it was a day for Shalimar. Not that I didn’t love the scent of vanilla, jasmine, and rose, but Aunty Meena did not have a light touch when it came to perfume.

  “Rukhsana, can you please make some chai?” Mom said. “And bring some of those laddoos Daddy got yesterday.”

  I nodded and walked to the kitchen. There was no way I was going to be able to talk to Mom today, not with Aunty Meena in the house. She’d probably end up staying for dinner. As I made the chai and put the laddoos on a plate, I heard the doorbell ring. A few seconds later I heard Uncle Maruf’s hearty laugh and then he was in the kitchen carrying a box from my favorite Indian sweet shop.

  “Rukhsana, ammu, how are you? I haven’t seen you for quite some time now.”

  I walked over to give him a hug and he handed me the box of sweets.

  “Your favorite, rasmalai,” he said with a big grin.

  “Thank you, Maruf Uncle. You’re the best.”

  His grin became even bigger. “Your Aunty Meena says the same thing when I bring her gifts.” He chuckled at his own joke and I marveled at Aunty Meena’s good fortune.

  He sat down on one of the stools at the kitchen island.

  “So, tell me, ammu, what are your plans now? Meena just told me today that you got a full scholarship to Caltech?”

  I nodded, a big smile on my face as I transferred the rasmalai into one of my mom’s pretty serving bowls from Dhaka.

  “Mashallah. That is wonderful, but we must celebrate properly. This is a great accomplishment, Rukhsana. I’m very proud of you.”

  I gave him another quick hug before we walked back to the living room with the tray of chai and sweets.

  Aunty Meena was regaling Mom with some gossip as usual, so I left to go to my room, using homework as an excuse. Tonight was not the night for confessions. I’d have to figure out how to get Mom in a good mood and tackle this another day.

  I sat on my bed, my calculus book open in front of me, but I could not focus on derivatives. I replayed the conversation with Ariana, Rachel, and Jen in the food court, and it stung to realize that they all thought I had any control over this situation. They could at least try to understand what I was going through. Was it really that bad to keep everything under wraps for a couple more months? Then we’d be free to hold hands and kiss in public as much as we wanted. The chances that someone who knew me might see me with my girlfriend in California were close to nil.

  Later at dinner, the conversation was entertaining as it always was when Uncle Maruf and Aunty Meena were together. He was the perfect antidote to her toxic personality.

  “Zubaida, did you hear about Nafeesa’s son in Florida?” Aunty Meena asked over dessert.

  “I heard he got married and has a son now, isn’t that right?” Mom said as she poured chai and handed a cup to my dad.

  “Yes, yes, but did you know he married a gori? Now he is too embarrassed to bring his wife and son to Seattle to meet his family.”

  “How do you know of all this, Meena?” Uncle Maruf said between bites of laddoo.

  “Oof, you don’t understand these things, Maruf. I just know,”
Aunty Meena said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

  “You should start up a fortune-telling business, Meena,” Uncle Maruf said, his face completely serious. Dad suddenly had to closely inspect something in his bowl of rasmalai while I tried not to choke on the food in my mouth.

  “You think you are very funny, Maruf, hanh?” Aunty Meena sniffed a little. “But when have I been wrong? Tell him, Zubaida. Am I not always right about these things?”

  Mom nodded in silent support, quietly sipping her chai.

  “Remember when I said that Fatima’s son was gay. That time also you laughed at me, Maruf, remember? But I was right, wasn’t I? Now he is living with some boy on the other side of the country. His poor parents can’t show their faces anywhere.”

  “I don’t understand why they are so ashamed,” Uncle Maruf said. “After all, their son is doing very well. He has a master’s degree and he has a good job from what I hear. So what if he is gay. That is not the end of the world. Nowadays even in Bangladesh there are activists fighting for the rights of gay people. Times are changing and we have to change with them.” He put his cup down. “Meena, we cannot only think about what people will say all the time.”

  I could have kissed my uncle. But Aunty Meena was not thrilled at being called out.

  “Yes, yes, it is very easy to be open-minded when it is other people’s children. Wait until someone in your own family does something like that. Then we’ll see how fine you are.”

  Uncle Maruf said nothing in response, obviously realizing there was no reasoning with her.

  “I am so happy that my Rukhsana isn’t like that,” Mom said, raising her hands in prayer position. “By the grace of Allah, she is a normal girl.”

  Dad shook his head sympathetically. “I can’t imagine how I would show my face anywhere if I was in their shoes. Poor Fatima and Ilyas.”

  Sometimes I found it hard to believe that I was related to my parents. I wished Aamir was home, so at least I could exchange looks with him. But he was happily away at a friend’s house for the night and thus did not have to witness my parents’ blatant display of homophobia. How could I ever tell them? Maybe if Ariana heard some of the things they were saying, she’d actually believe me. But of course, that would never happen.