by Sabina Khan
“No. I think I do,” I insisted. “The thing is, the last time we talked, it felt like you were taking Ariana’s side. And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt.”
The two of them exchanged a glance.
“We weren’t taking sides,” Jen said. “It’s just that we were there when you broke up with Ariana and we saw what she went through.”
Rachel nodded. “It was brutal. She missed a lot of school and her mom was really pissed at you.”
I felt awful that I had caused her so much pain, and Ariana and I were moving past that. But there were still things that bothered me about my relationship with my friends.
“You know, things were pretty awful for me too.” I knew I was being unfair because I had never told them the whole story. So, I did. And it wasn’t easier just because I’d told it to Ariana and Sara and Irfan already. How could something like this ever be easy?
They both reacted as expected. With horror and disbelief.
“I can’t believe you went through all that alone. How could your parents do those things to you?” Jen said, holding me in her arms.
“The same way people here throw their kids out of the house after they find out they’re gay,” I said. “It happens everywhere.”
“No, I know, but I’m just saying … What your parents did was a little extreme, wasn’t it?” Rachel said. “I mean, they wouldn’t have done something like that here, right?”
I sighed. “Look, of course it’s horrible, but I wish you guys wouldn’t automatically judge my whole culture.”
“We didn’t mean to do that, Rukhsana,” Jen said quickly. “We love you, you know that.”
I nodded. “I know you do. But lately I’ve been feeling like I’m all alone in this. That’s why I didn’t tell you at first. I’m also really angry that you always made me feel like I was being dramatic about how my parents would react. I mean, you get it now because I told you everything, but why did it take all that for you to just believe me in the first place?”
They were both silent and I wondered if this whole movie night was still a good idea.
“I had no idea you felt this way,” Jen finally said.
“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Rachel asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess because every time I say something bad about my family, it becomes more about where I come from than just regular stuff that people go through with their parents.”
“I’m really sorry we made you feel that way,” Jen said.
“And you’re right,” Rachel added. “Maybe we do tend to jump to conclusions, and that’s something we need to work on.”
“Yes, you do,” I said. “You have no idea how hard it is to constantly feel like you have to represent your entire culture. And to try and juggle all these expectations. I really don’t want to feel like I need to be careful around you guys too. I mean, you’re my best friends.”
“I’m so sorry, Rukhsana,” Rachel said.
We sat in awkward silence for a little bit and then Jen stood up suddenly.
“You know what we need right now? A group hug.” She pulled us both up and we stood with our arms around each other. It reminded me of all the times we’d done this as kids after a silly fight and I knew then that we’d be all right. After a while, I extracted myself and went to grab a packet out of my bag. “I have something for you guys.” I handed them each a box of the glass bangles I’d picked out at the Boishakhi Mela in Dhaka.
Ariana walked in just as Jen and Rachel were trying on their bangles.
“Aren’t they so pretty?” Ariana twirled her wrist to show off her own.
“You’re wearing them,” I said, ridiculously happy that she liked them.
When we finished admiring them, Rachel took the remote from Jen and chose Princess Diaries again. I had to admit, it was a great movie. And I was just happy to be back home spending quality time with my best friends.
“Rukhsana, I was putting clean clothes on your bed and I saw Nani’s diary on your desk.” Mom sat down across from me at the kitchen table.
“She gave it to me before I left,” I said, closing my notebook. “I’m sorry … I didn’t know if I could talk to you about it.”
“It’s okay. If Amma gave it to you, she must have wanted you to have it.”
“Have you ever read it?” She must have been curious as a child. Unless she didn’t know it existed.
She shook her head. “I saw her write in it sometimes, but she always kept it hidden away. And after some time, I forgot about it.”
“Do you want to read it now?”
She paused, thinking about it for a moment.
“I think I’d like to,” she said softly.
“Mom … I read about what your father did to Nani and to you.” Tears sprang to my eyes as I put my arms around my mother and held her close. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“It was a long time ago. I buried it in my mind when I was young. I didn’t want to think about it ever again.”
“Maybe Nani would want you to read it now, to understand what happened.” Did she know about Raju? Or how her father died?
“I will read it. Maybe it’s time to put this to rest permanently.”
I had one more question, but it took everything in me to ask it.
“Does Dad know?”
“No, ammu.” She was quiet for a long time after that. “You know, your daddy has been very good to me. Knowing about this, it would break him.”
“Then it will be our secret,” I said, touching her face and kissing her cheek.
“What’s going on?” I said to Mom and Aunty Meena, watching them flit around the kitchen as if their rotis were on fire. Whatever was bubbling away on the stove smelled delicious. Mom had even taken out the nice dishes, and there was a huge bouquet of flowers on the dining table. “You think we’d forget your birthday?” Mom said with a huge smile on her face.
With everything that had been going on, my birthday had completely slipped my mind.
“Well, I promised you we would take care of everything. Ariana and her mother are coming for dinner tonight,” Mom said triumphantly.
My mouth dropped. “Really? How did you convince her?”
“Rukhsana, that is a long story,” Aunty Meena said. “Now don’t stand around here getting in our way. We’re preparing a feast for her.”
“Yes, ammu, you go and get ready,” Mom said. “I put out a nice outfit for you.”
Some things would never change. But this time I wasn’t complaining. I had no idea what the two of them had said or done, but my Ariana was coming over and that was all I cared about.
I went up to my room and had a long bath. I spent extra time on my hair, carefully styling it so a few curly strands framed my face. I looked at the outfit Mom had picked out and shook my head. The soft pink chiffon shalwar set with silver beading was exquisite, but a little bit much for tonight. I was not wearing that. I picked out a maroon blouse and paired it with some black jeans. I applied my makeup with more care than usual, lining my eyes with black liner and adding wings to the ends of my eyelids. I put on a soft pink lipstick and wore my favorite silver dangly earrings.
When I walked back into the kitchen, Mom was already waiting for me, a piece of paper in her hand.
“Rukhsana, can you please go with Aunty Meena to the store? I need a few more things for tonight and it will be faster if you go with her.” She handed me a list as Aunty Meena ushered me out to her car.
“Rukhsana, I want to tell you something,” Aunty Meena said as we pulled out of the driveway.
I waited silently for her to continue.
“As you know, I’ve been talking to Irfan a lot about you and everything that happened.”
We approached a red light and Aunty Meena turned to me.
“I want to say that I’m sorry.” She turned her attention back to the road as the light changed.
“For what?” I had a pretty good idea, but I wanted her to s
ay it. Maybe it was petty of me, but after everything that I’d gone through, I deserved to be petty if I wanted.
“Well, your mother told me about you and Ariana. I’m glad that you worked things out. I’m sorry if I was being pushy about finding a Bengali girl for you.”
Now I felt bad. She was trying to help in her own strange way, and I hadn’t told her about what was going on with me and Ariana. Frankly, I was surprised that Mom had actually talked to her.
“It’s okay, Aunty Meena.”
“Good. I just wanted to make sure that you are not angry with me,” she said, parking the car. When we got out of the car, I gave her a big hug.
It didn’t take long to get the few things on Mom’s list: cilantro, green chilies, curry leaves, plain yogurt, buttermilk, and papad.
When we got back home, I grabbed the grocery bags and walked to the front door, Aunty Meena right behind me.
Mom wasn’t in the kitchen when I put the bags on the counter, so I assumed that she’d gone to shower and change for dinner. I went into the living room to wait for Ariana to arrive and nearly jumped out of my skin when a loud chorus of “SURPRISE” greeted me.
I reeled back in shock and by the time I recovered, I realized that our living room was full of people. Irfan and Sara, Jen and Rachel, Shilpi and the gang from the support group—they were all there. They all gathered around me, and there were hugs and kisses and introductions. Then I saw someone walk toward me from the far corner of the living room, and my eyes widened.
It was Shaila. I ran to her and threw my arms around her.
“I can’t believe—”
I couldn’t process everything that was happening. I was speechless. I couldn’t understand how my mom had pulled this off or why she had even done this.
I turned and found her standing behind me with a big smile on her face. I wrapped her in a tight hug.
“Mom, wow. I don’t know what to say. When did you—”
Just then the doorbell rang and I looked around. It had to be Ariana.
I ran to the door and opened it to find Ariana standing there with her mom. Ariana looked breathtaking in an off-white blouse and dark jeans. Her mom fidgeted nervously, and I quickly remembered my manners.
“Frances, I’m so happy you’re both here. Please come in.” I ushered them into the living room, and I could tell by Ariana’s bewildered expression that she had no clue about what was going on.
Mom, Dad, and Aunty Meena all came to greet Frances and introduce themselves. Once everyone was seated on every possible surface, Mom stood and my stomach clenched.
What is she doing?
“There is something I must do and I would like to do it in front of everyone, because my Rukhsana is the most important person in my life and lately I seem to have forgotten that.”
Oh no. I had never wished so desperately for a natural disaster of some sort. Anything to stop this from happening.
“Ariana, please come here,” Mom said, and Ariana froze. Frances tensed up as well, and who could blame them?
But Ariana went to my mom nonetheless and stood in front of her. Mom took Ariana’s face gently in her hands.
“Ariana, I want to apologize. From the bottom of my heart, I am sorry for what I did and that I hurt you. You make my Rukhsana happy and that’s all that matters to me now. To us.”
“We put other people’s concerns over the happiness of our own daughter,” Dad added. “And while we cannot take back what has happened, we can make a promise to both of you.”
He turned to me. “Come here, ammu.”
I walked over to them, the tears already rolling down my cheeks.
“We promise you that from now on we will support you both,” Dad said. “And there will be those who will try to make you feel bad. But we will take care of all that.”
“Yes, and if anyone tries to say anything to you, they will have to deal with me,” Aunty Meena said emphatically.
I couldn’t help but seek out Uncle Maruf in the crowd, and as I’d suspected, he had a huge smile on his face.
“We want to welcome you into our family, Ariana,” Mom said. “From now on you will be like our own daughter. Please forgive us.”
Ariana couldn’t speak because she was sobbing, and my face was wet with tears. I knew Mom and Dad had been trying really hard lately and I appreciated it. But in my wildest dreams, I could not have anticipated this. And I could tell from the look on Ariana’s face that she was stunned as well. We exchanged a smile and I knew we would have so much to talk about later. But now I just wanted to relish this moment.
“Now,” Mom announced. “Who’s hungry?”
Since there was so much food, the serving dishes had been laid out on the large kitchen island. Everyone helped themselves and then spread out in the kitchen, living room, and dining room.
I spotted Aunty Meena and Frances at one end of the kitchen, and it looked like Aunty Meena was pointing out the spice level of all the different dishes.
I grabbed Ariana and took her over to meet Shaila.
“Shaila,” I squealed, and hugged her too tightly. “This is Ariana,” I announced.
Shaila broke free from me and turned to put her arms around Ariana.
“I hope you know what you’re getting into with this one,” Shaila said teasingly, and Ariana grinned. “But, jokes aside, I am so happy for both of you.” She kissed Ariana on the cheek and looked at her affectionately.
Irfan and Sara joined our group and we recounted the incident at the coffee shop. It was amazing that we could laugh about it now, when just a few months ago it had caused me so much panic and anxiety.
We took our plates and joined Jen, Rachel, Shilpi, and the other young people from the support group. I looked over to where the adults had all gathered and were having an apparently hilarious conversation. I caught Mom’s eye and we shared a secret smile. She was having a great time, and I almost pinched myself to make sure this wasn’t some dream. If it was I did not want to wake up.
I scanned the room and all around me were the faces of people I loved and wanted in my life. Watching them now, enjoying themselves here in my home, I felt a great weight lift off me and I could breathe again. Their presence tonight showed me their unconditional acceptance of who I was, and there could be no greater gift for me than this moment right here, right now. For the first time in a long while, I was truly happy.
There are so many people who came into my life at just the right time and helped make this story what it is today. I am deeply grateful to each and every one of them.
First, my amazing Pitch Wars mentor, Natasha Neagle. Thank you for giving so generously of your time and talent to help shape this book. To Brenda Drake, who is a fairy godmother to so many writers, thank you for everything you do for the community. You have changed lives.
To my agent, Hillary Jacobson, for taking a chance on me. Thank you for your patience and your guidance and for believing so strongly that all our stories are important. I am so fortunate to have you in my corner. To my Hillary’s Angelz: Adalyn, Ali, Astrid, Mel, and Tomi, I couldn’t have asked for better agency siblings. Thank you for your wisdom and humor, your support and encouragement, and for making this a wonderful journey.
To my Scholastic family in the US and Canada: My brilliant editor, Jeffrey West, for loving Rukhsana’s story as much as I do and for continually pushing me to make it better. Your connection with my characters transcends the barriers of culture, religion, and language and it has been truly amazing working with you; Crystal McCoy, Rachel Feld, Isa Caban, Vaishali Nayak, Lizette Serrano, Emily Heddleston, Melissa Schirmer, Josh Berlowitz, Preeti Chhibber, Alexis Lunsford, Elisabeth Ferrari, Erin Haggett, Nikole Kritikos, and so many others who have touched this book, my heartfelt thanks for all the hard work you put into bringing Rukhsana’s story to the world; the designer, Maeve Norton, for creating such an amazing cover and perfectly capturing Rukhsana’s essence; and a very special thank you to David Levithan for his support and encourage
ment.
To Nisha Sharma, Samira Ahmed, Sandhya Menon, Tanuja Desai Hidier, and Sara Farizan for taking the time to read Rukhsana’s story early and sharing your kind words. Sandhya, thank you for patiently listening and being there for me throughout this amazing journey, and for answering my endless questions.
I would also like to thank Laura Silverman, Rachel Lynn Solomon, Sayantani DasGupta, Dahlia Adler, Julian Winters, Mason Deaver, Nafiza Azad, and London Shah; your friendship and support means the world. My heartfelt thanks to the many readers, bloggers, authors, librarians, teachers, and booksellers: Your enthusiasm for Rukhsana’s story continues to fuel my passion for writing these important narratives that demand to be read.
To my mother, who sat with me for hours every day while I learned English as a little girl, instilling a love of reading in the process.
To my husband, who always puts my dreams before his own, thank you for providing me with the space and time to do what I love. To my two amazing daughters, who inspire me every day with their courage and conviction. I hope you are as proud of me as I am of you.
Finally, I would like to take this opportunity to honor all of the LGBTQ Muslims who have lost their lives far too soon, victims of senseless hate, prejudice, and violence. In particular, Xulhaz Mannan, cofounder of Roopbaan, Bangladesh’s first and only LGBT magazine, and K. Mahabub Rabbi (Tonoy), both community leaders and LGBTQ activists, whose brutal murders in 2016 called attention to the very real dangers that the Muslim LGBTQ community face every day.
sabina khan writes about Muslim teens who straddle cultures. She was born in Germany, spent her teens in Bangladesh, and lived in Macao, Illinois, and Texas before settling down in beautiful British Columbia with her husband, two daughters, and the best dog in the world. She enjoys reading and spicy food and is obsessed with scented candles. She has a BA in political science and works as an educational consultant by day. By night she sings her heart out at karaoke and dances like no one’s watching. You can find her on Twitter at @Sabina_Writer and online at sabina-khan.com.
