by Sabina Khan
“I meant to tell you. I just didn’t know how. I’m so sorry.”
Mom wouldn’t look at me, but Dad sighed deeply.
“It’s our fault. We should never have given you so much freedom.” He looked at Mom, who had started sobbing quietly.
“Mom, I’m sorry.” I bit my lip. “Please stop crying.”
“Look at what you are doing to your mother. Is this why we gave you everything that you wanted? So that you could repay us with this? I don’t even know what to call it.”
“It’s a disease. That’s what you call it,” Mom said quietly. “I will take her to that doctor that Saira told me about. Her son went through the same thing. Now he’s fine.”
What the hell was she talking about? A conversion therapy program?
“Mom, I’m not sick. Please, just try to understand. This is how I feel; it’s not some disease or something. You know that.”
“You don’t need to tell me what I know,” she said. At least she was looking at me again. “Your dad is right. It’s our fault. I should have never let you have so many American friends. This is what happens. They are too freethinking. And now you are becoming like them.”
“But not in our house,” Dad added forcefully. “All this nonsense is going to stop right now. Do you want to see your own parents become the laughingstock of the community?”
Are they for real?
Of course they were. This was classic guilt-tripping. They thought they could guilt me into not being gay anymore. At this point they would probably be overjoyed if I told them I was pregnant. Anything was better than this. A daughter who is a lesbian? How could they ever show their faces in public again?
I had to be patient, to give them time to get used to the idea. They were from another time, a different place where this was considered a sin, even a crime. But something in me raged at the thought that I should feel ashamed of who I was. And so I kept barreling forward.
“Dad. I’m gay. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you, but I can’t change who I am.” The words just tumbled out on their own; I could do nothing to stop them. And judging by their faces, they were as stunned at the outburst as I was.
Mom burst into tears again and Dad shook his head.
“What is this rubbish you are saying?” His voice rose an octave and I could see he was trying hard to control his anger.
“Have you lost your mind? Speaking to your parents like this?” Mom placed a hand on Dad’s arm as if she could stop him if he really wanted to hit me.
“Go to your room and stay there. I can’t look at you right now.” His voice had gone quiet, but their anger triggered something in me. I should have just walked away and given him a chance to cool down. But I didn’t.
“Well, you’ll have to look at me, because we need to talk about this like adults. You’re acting as if I killed somebody.”
Why did I just say that? Come on, Rukhsana, stop making it worse.
I knew the second I said that, I’d made a huge mistake.
A vein throbbed on Dad’s forehead, threatening to burst.
My face snapped to the right as Dad’s hand made contact with my cheek.
I reeled from the shock, my legs turning to lead. My parents had never hit me. Ever. Not even when they caught me at a party in ninth grade or when I brought back a C on a math test. They’d been angry and disappointed, but they had never, ever laid a hand on me.
Now I lifted my eyes to hold Dad’s gaze, tears streaming down my face. Mom stood there, unmoving. Probably as stunned as I was.
I found Aamir standing in the hallway outside his bedroom, his eyes wide and his usual smirk absent.
“What happened? I heard yelling.” Of course, with his headphones on, he probably hadn’t heard the whole thing.
“Mom caught me and Ariana—”
His eyes hardened and he moved closer to look at my face. Even in the dimmed light of the hallway, he could see the angry redness on my cheek.
“Did Mom hit you?” he demanded, his voice suddenly loud.
“No, it was Dad.”
He began to move toward the stairs, but I grabbed his arm to pull him back.
“Please don’t say anything. You’ll just make it worse.”
He shook his head.
“Listen, I need to get out of here for a bit. Can you cover for me?”
He nodded. “Where will you go?”
“I don’t know. I have to call Ariana and make sure she’s okay. Mom slapped her.”
Aamir sucked in a deep breath. “Wow, they’re really going hard-core on this.”
“I should have been more careful.” I shook my head. “This isn’t how I planned for them to find out.”
Aamir put his hands on my shoulders. “It’s not your fault. You do what you need to do. I won’t say anything to them now, but promise me you’ll tell me if you want me to.”
I nodded, wrapping my arms around him as a wave of relief washed over me. I was so glad he was here, willing to stand up for me against our parents. It made me feel less alone, and right now that meant more to me than I could say.
I had no idea where I would go. I quickly checked my face in the mirror. If I went to any of my school friends’ houses with the red mark on my cheek, they would tell me to call the cops on Dad. If I went to any of my Bengali friends the gossip mill would run wild. The last thing I needed was more drama. Poor Ariana. She might never forgive me and frankly I couldn’t blame her. I called her, but she didn’t answer until the fifth ring.
“Ariana, it’s me. Are you okay?” Stupid question. Of course she isn’t okay.
She didn’t answer at first, but I could still hear her breathing softly, which was oddly comforting. “I’ll be fine. What happened with your parents?” Her voice trembled slightly and my heart ached.
“They freaked out. My dad completely lost it.”
“More than your mom?”
I deserved that.
More silence.
“Well, at least it’s out in the open now. That’s good, right?” She wanted me to say that it was, I could tell, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her things would just go downhill from here on.
“Listen, I need to get out of here. I’m going crazy. Is there any way—”
“Just come to my place. My parents are away at a conference for a couple of days.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I grabbed a bag while she continued talking and stuffed a change of clothes and my toothbrush in it. We hung up and I peeked out into the hallway to make sure Mom and Dad weren’t there. I tiptoed to the top of the stairs and craned my neck to see if they were still downstairs. No one was there. They must have gone to their room. I walked down as quietly as I could and slipped out the front door.
When Ariana opened the door, she gasped and pulled me inside, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Rukhsana, your face. Did she slap you too?” She touched my cheek gently, but I still winced.
“No, this is my dad’s handiwork.” I dropped my bag on a chair by the entrance. “I’ve never seen him so angry.”
Ariana’s eyes were puffy from crying, but at least my mom’s handprint was fading from her cheek. Anger twisted my insides as I looked at her. She didn’t deserve any of this.
“Can I ask you something?” I spoke softly, pulling her hand into mine.
She nodded. “Anything.”
“You can tell me if you want to break up. I get it. I mean, I wouldn’t blame you or be mad or—”
Ariana pressed her lips to mine. She kissed me with such tenderness, I didn’t need an answer. Neither one of us needed words as we walked up the stairs, still holding hands. She didn’t say anything while she unbuttoned my shirt or as my hands reached out to pull her T-shirt over her head. By unspoken agreement we lay down on her bed, the sheets cool and smooth against my skin. I kissed her lips, the ticklish spot on her neck, her tanned shoulders. She kissed me in response, gently at first, but then with more urgency, as she blazed a trail of kisses
down my neck. I gave in to her touch, allowing the waves of bliss to wash over me.
I didn’t remember falling asleep, but when the sunrise peeked through the window of Ariana’s room I opened my eyes to find her arm lying across my stomach. It felt so good, just being here like this.
The buzzing of my cell phone brought me back to reality. I grabbed it off the nightstand.
I checked the time. Somehow it was already 6:17 a.m.
Shit. I had to get home before Mom and Dad noticed I was gone or I’d be dead.
Ariana stirred.
“What time is it?” she asked, her voice full of sleep.
“It’s already past six.” I bent to kiss a spot on her shoulder and she pulled me toward her and kissed me on the mouth. The memory of last night was still fresh.
“I have to go. My brother’s starting to panic.”
Ariana nodded. “See you at school.”
I kissed her quickly on the lips and grabbed my bag. “We’ll talk later, I promise. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
One last kiss and then I left, making my way back home as quickly as I could.
Aamir must have been waiting by the door because he opened it just as I walked up the last step.
“Hurry,” he said, pulling me inside. “Dad left early and Mom’s in the shower. She hasn’t come down yet.”
I gave him a quick hug.
“Are you okay?” he asked, concern making his face look serious. A wave of guilt swept over me. Annoying as he could be sometimes, I liked it better when he was just his carefree self.
“I’ll be fine, Aamir, don’t worry too much.”
I ran up to my room to get ready for school. The redness on my cheek had faded, but not enough to fool Jen and Rachel. They would know something was up. A little bit of concealer and some eye makeup later, I was ready.
I stuck my head out the door to make sure I didn’t run into Mom in the hallway. It was all clear. I tiptoed downstairs and saw her at the kitchen sink. I went straight out the door before she saw me. The cold, crisp air on the walk to school rejuvenated me.
Ariana was already by her locker when I got there, and her face lit up when she saw me coming. It was all I could do not to go running into her arms.
“Hey, you,” I said, reaching out to stroke her forearm.
“Hey, yourself.” We shared a secret smile.
“What are we talking about?” Rachel’s voice came from behind me. Jen was with her too.
“My mom caught us in my room yesterday,” I said quietly.
Jen and Rachel stared at us with identically stunned expressions.
“What did she do?” Rachel said.
“Exactly what I was scared of,” I said. “She freaked out. Completely.”
“Did your parents say anything this morning?” Ariana said.
I shook my head. “I didn’t see them at all.”
“Maybe you should lay low for a bit,” Jen said. “Just until things cool off.”
I agreed. But this was going to be tricky. Now that my parents knew, I was sure they would keep an even closer eye on me. And then there was the possibility that I was never going to Caltech.
There was an eerie calm at home over the next week. Dad and I avoided each other, and Mom only talked to me when she had to. I was fine with this because the pace at school had picked up majorly and I had little time for drama.
“Rukhsana,” Dad called out to me a few days later as I added another layer of mascara to my eyelashes. We were going to a dinner my parents had organized with some friends.
Lately, Dad and I had agreed on an unspoken truce of sorts. Well, he had started talking to me about things like my chores or my schedule, which was better than uncomfortable silence.
“I’ll be down in a second, Dad.”
He stood in the living room holding out a box wrapped in shiny purple paper with a white bow on top. He handed it to me without saying a word.
“What is it?” I felt a tiny little flutter of hope as I took it from him.
“Open it. Mom and I wanted you to have it.”
Impatiently, I tore at the paper and found a maroon velvet jewelry box with Bengali script printed on top.
They must have bought it on our trip to Bangladesh a few years ago.
I opened it to reveal a beautiful gold pendant on a chain nestled inside. The pendant was in the shape of an oval with Arabic script engraved on it.
“It’s to keep you on the right path wherever you are.” Tears threatened to spill over as I reached out to hug him, and he held me tight as he stroked my hair the way he used to when I was little. I hadn’t noticed Mom standing there until she sniffled a little. She came over and I hugged her tightly as she kissed the top of my head.
“Let’s go or we’ll be late,” Mom said, smoothing down the front of her sari. The moment was over.
“How is Sara?” I asked Irfan over Manchurian chicken and fried rice. “I’m sorry, but with everything that happened I couldn’t really invite her over.”
We were at Chili House, “Home of the Best Indian Chinese Food,” where we’d met up with some other families. Of course, Aunty Meena was there along with Irfan and his family. I wasn’t sure if it was because of my own skills or Aunty Meena’s, but I found myself sitting next to Irfan during dinner. I’d just finished telling him everything that had happened, and he was horrified. It was good that my parents were giving us some space too, because I definitely did not want them knowing what we were up to.
He speared a piece of chicken with his fork as he shook his head, still in disbelief.
“Don’t worry about us. You have your own stuff to deal with.”
“Yes, I sure do,” I said and then leaned a little closer. “Also, I think my mom would prefer if I didn’t bring home any white girls. She thinks they’re the reason I turned lesbian.”
Irfan choked a little on his chicken as he tried not to laugh out loud. It wouldn’t be nice to encourage Aunty Meena or my parents. There was already a lot of head bobbing going on at the far end of the table, and if we kept going they might marry us right here and now at Chili House.
“So, what’s the plan?” I asked after we’d finished most of our meal. “For you and Sara? You should just tell your parents. How bad do you think it’ll be?”
“You know what … you’ve inspired me,” Irfan said with a grin. “I think I’ll give it a shot. If it doesn’t work out then you and I can get married and Ariana and Sara can just move in with us.”
I laughed out loud at that, and it felt good.
“I noticed that you and Irfan were getting along just fine,” Dad said as we drove out of the crowded parking lot. I rolled my eyes in the darkness. Great. I knew I should have been less friendly around Irfan. Clearly, I’d given my parents the wrong idea.
“Yes, Dad, he’s a great guy.” I should have stopped, but of course I didn’t. “But that doesn’t change anything.”
Dad didn’t say anything and kept his eyes on the road.
“Rukhsana, you have to think about us too,” said Mom. “What are we supposed to tell all our relatives back in Bangladesh? That we let you run around and now you’re a lesbian? Chhee. How can I even utter this word to them?”
“Mom, why do you have to worry about what everyone else says? You know I haven’t done anything wrong. I can’t help who I like.”
“What do you mean you can’t help it? Of course you can help it. You think your father and I had a choice when we were young?” Her voice reverberated loudly in the compact interior of the car.
“Mom, that was a different time,” I protested. “It’s not the same now. Even in Bangladesh, people are making their own decisions about whom they marry.”
“Yes, you’re right, Rukhsana,” Dad said patiently. “It is different and that’s why we gave you so much freedom. Have we ever pushed arranged marriage on you? No.”
“We let you have whatever friends you wanted, but this is too much,” Mom concluded. “
You are asking us to accept something that is completely against our beliefs.” She shook her head. “I should have been much more strict with you. Now I am paying the price.”
I balled up my fists to keep from punching something. Was there even a point to this conversation?
“I don’t know what kind of jaadu-tona this girl has done on you. Couldn’t she cast her spells on some other girl? Why does it have to be my daughter?”
The rest of the drive home passed in bitter silence. When we got home, I stomped up the stairs and slammed my door.
I walked into the house, but there was no one downstairs. It had been a couple of days since the last fight, but things were far from okay. Happy to avoid the awkwardness that was my life these days, I went upstairs. As I passed my parents’ bedroom I could hear them talking in hushed voices. Curious, I knocked and walked in. An open suitcase sat on the bed, while another was on the floor. Dad knelt beside it, putting clothes in. Mom sat on the edge of her bed crying. I rushed to her side and threw my arms around her.
“Mom, what’s going on? Where are you going?”
Dad stood and came over to us. “Tanveer Mama called. Nani is quite sick, so we have to fly to Dhaka.”
Tanveer Mama was Mom’s younger brother and lived with my grandmother in Bangladesh.
“Did he say what happened? What are the doctors saying?” The worst thoughts crossed my mind. I couldn’t lose my nani.
“We will all fly there tomorrow,” Dad said. “Uncle Maruf is helping us with the tickets, and he’ll drop us off at the airport tomorrow morning. We’ll be there the day after tomorrow. He got us the earliest flight he could find.”
It would still take us around twenty-seven hours to get there. I wished I could hear Nani’s voice right now.
“Is she at the hospital or at home? Can I call her?”
“No, Rukhsana,” Mom said. “She’s still at home, but the doctors have given her a mild sedative to let her rest. Why don’t you go and start packing?”
“What about Aamir?” He’d be devastated when he found out.
