Sirens of Memory

by Puja Guha

  We would never see Aliya again.

  The idea was unthinkable—even her initial choice to leave Tareq had been centered around her daughter and the life that she wanted for her, the life that she refused to impose upon her. Her chest tightened—her daughter was everything to her. “Raj, what do we do?”

  “I don’t know.” Raj circled the table to join her on the bench on the other side and put his arms around her, pulling her close.

  Mariam clung to him, not wanting to let go as she processed their meager options. He was right. She had known it before, even if she hadn’t wanted to admit it, and she knew it now. The pressure on her chest increased and she wiggled to the side, releasing herself from his grasp so that she could meet his gaze.

  Before she could speak, he brushed the tears from her face and said, “It’s your decision, I’m not going to push you anymore. Whatever you want to do, I’ll stand by you.”

  A wistful smile crossed her face; in that moment, the rest of the world could almost fall away. In a way, she had never felt safer, their relationship had always been something of calm and contentment, even at the beginning in the darkness of the refugee camp in Kuwait, even when she had feared that his knowledge of who she really was might compromise her safety. From the very beginning he had stood by her, loved her, cared for her, and protected her—with him by her side, she could indeed weather the inevitable next step. She had to accept the truth: Tareq was alive, and the only way to be free of him was to turn herself in, to tell the world the truth of what he’d done to her. Perhaps Raj was right, maybe the police would be merciful given why she had lived so many years under someone else’s name. Even if they weren’t, this was the only way forward. Mariam leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss.

  “You’re right. I wish you weren’t, but you’re right. We have to turn ourselves in, we can’t run, and we can’t let him win. I’m so glad Aliya’s in Banff with no service. I don’t think I could go through with it if I told her beforehand.”

  “Tomorrow, then,” he whispered. “Tomorrow, I’ll go to the police.”

  “We’ll go together.”

  “No, I want you to stay here, where it’s safe. Please, Mariam—at least let me try to see if they’ll agree to some sort of leniency. We’ll come and get you afterward.”

  She looked away, then turned back to him again before she repeated, “No, Raj, we’ll go together.”

  “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

  He hesitated, then agreed, before she pulled him in for a deeper kiss and whispered in his ear, “At least we still have tonight.”

  Austin, USA – The next day, May, 2016

  Tareq paced back and forth alongside the window that looked out onto Mariam’s backyard.

  Where in the hell are they?

  He kicked at the base of the wall again, the spot was slightly bowed in from all of the rage he had vented. Tareq threw down his binoculars, careful to aim toward the bed, where they bounced once before settling onto the mattress. He had already destroyed two sets by hurling them at the wall, so his momentary solution was just to fling them at the bed. In the last two days, he had waited for the cover of darkness and snuck into the yard twice and gone into the house once. All of the clothes, books, kitchen items, etc., seemed exactly as they were when he’d left. He’d been sure that Mariam had realized that he was alive—she’d had such an extreme reaction in front of the firepit, she must have discovered the remnants of her book—so what had happened since then?

  She wouldn’t have told Raj about it, she couldn’t have. He would stop her from seeing me…

  He squinted toward the garden, there had to be a reason that she hadn’t come home.

  I bet he found out somehow, that has to be it.

  Tapping his fingers against the back of his head, he hatched a new plan, if they wouldn’t return to him, he would find them. But how? He didn’t have access to tracking software for their phones—he could see if one of the investigators would do it, but that would only work if they still had their phones. Still, someone had to know where they were.

  Tareq sat down on the bed and reached for the file on Mariam that the investigator in D.C. had put together for him. Moving quickly through the pages on Mariam, he stopped when he got to the list of known associates, which included some people that she worked with and the names of a few friends in Austin. At the bottom of the list was the name Dinah Qatami, along with her office contact information.

  Of course.

  He reached for his phone and dialed Dinah’s number.

  Three rings later, she picked up, “Hello, Kuwaiti embassy, this is Dinah Qatami.”

  Tareq winced, hearing her voice stung as he recalled the number of times that she had told him to stay away from Mariam. His throat trembled for a second before he could speak.

  “Hello Dinah,” he said in the most incisive tone he could muster. He was furious at her, she had orchestrated Mariam’s first betrayal, and had kept him from making her see reason. At the same time, deep down he was intimidated, even petrified—she was the one who had planted the idea of leaving into Mariam’s head. Before her relationship with Mariam had blossomed, Mariam had always capitulated to him, she had always loved him even if she pretended to fear him. Tareq clutched the bedframe, focusing on his wrath. “Do you know who this is? You haven’t heard my voice since I was at your house in Kuwait twenty-five years ago.”

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line before she replied, “Tareq—what, what do you want?”

  “What do you think I want? I want to know where Mariam is, I’m sure you know. You think you know everything about her, after all.”

  “I don’t know where she is.”

  Tareq chuckled, his fear of Dinah’s influence dispelled, her fear was palpable from the way she spoke. “I doubt very much that’s true. You’re the one who turned Mariam against me, but you won’t be able to keep us apart this time. She will come back to me, and once she does, I’ll come for you.”

  “You think Mariam wants to go back to you?” Dinah’s tone became incensed, her anger tangible. “Mariam chose to become someone else rather than have any association with you. Do you hear me? She hated every minute that she was with you, she was just too scared to do anything about it at first.”

  “That’s not true,” Tareq shrank back into the headboard and pulled his knees into his chest. He rejected the possibility, he knew in his bones that Mariam loved him. She had stayed with him even with his indiscretions with other women, had always listened to what he said. His voice dropped to a whisper, “She loved me, she only pretended to be frightened. She loved every minute that we were together, and we will have that again.”

  “You really are insane, there’s no question about it. Mariam would rather die than be with you again. You’ll never find her, and even if you do, she will never love you.”

  She will never love you.

  Tareq’s chest convulsed, there was no way that Dinah could be right, no way. “I will find her, and we are going to be together again.”

  “Give it your best try,” Dinah’s defiance coming through clearly over the phone line. “Like I said, even if you do, she’ll never love you. Nothing will ever change that, she’s not your wife anymore.” The line clicked as she hung up.

  Tareq’s wrath bubbled, glaring at the phone. He didn’t want to believe her, refused to do so, but Dinah sounded so confident.

  Could she be right? Could it all have been a lie?

  He thought of how Raj had carried Mariam away, how she had lived as a different person for so many years, and a feeling of hopelessness descended over him. She had indeed lived as someone else’s wife all this time. His right hand clenched at the comforter on the bed, squeezing the ball of fabric in his palm—she had run away from him, hidden from him, lived with another man, and now dared to defy him by disappearing yet again.

  She is, and will always be, my wife.

  He reached for the phone to redial Dinah’s number
, which went straight to voicemail. “If Mariam doesn’t come back to me, I’m going to pay a visit to Aliya. She deserves to know who her real father is.”

  Austin, USA – May, 2016

  Mariam’s eyes fluttered open and slowly scanned the room. It took her a moment for the last three days to come flooding back, along with her conversation with Raj from the night before. Sitting up required an extraordinary amount of effort, her head a fog from the two bottles of wine that they had consumed after dinner. She rubbed her eyes, beginning to feel half awake.

  “Raj? Where are you?” her own voice vibrated through her skull.

  When there was no response, she slid out of bed, goosebumps forming on her now exposed bare legs. “Raj?” she repeated, starting to become concerned. She checked the master bathroom, then the next bedroom and the living room, and finally padded up the stairs toward the kitchen, calling out for him again, each time with more urgency.

  She reached the dining table, and her stomach flipped—there was a note on the table, and it had to be from him. Reaching for it, she unfolded the piece of paper, already knowing what it was going to say. The note confirmed it. He had gone to the police station without her—wanted to try to protect her by striking a bargain with one of the officers on duty. Mariam dropped onto the bench by the table.

  How many times does Tareq get to ruin my life? How many times do I have to be the victim?

  A few minutes later, Mariam pulled herself together and wiped her eyes, somehow, she had to stay strong. Her jaw set and she dressed quickly, then went in search of her phone, which seemed to have disappeared in the slew of wine and sex from the night before. She couldn’t help but smile, she and Raj had behaved more like their twenty-something selves, the abandon and unlimited energy that came from knowing that this might be their last night as a “normal” married couple. Mariam shrugged. Nothing about their story could ever qualify as normal, but for the last twenty-five years they had been able to live without carrying most of the baggage of their past.

  In the living room, she caught the sound of her phone vibrating, but it took a few minutes to track it down. Mariam’s heart sped up, assuming it was Raj trying to call. She finally found it by the poolside, next to the open living room window. With a sigh of relief, she checked the call log and froze; there were ten missed calls from Dinah in the last five minutes.

  Oh no.

  She hit the call back button and waited for the line to connect, “Dinah, what happened?”

  “You have to call the police. Tareq, he’s going after Aliya unless you come back to him. He said he’s waiting at your house—”

  MARIAM BARELY UNDERSTOOD what Dinah said after that, the panic that struck her took hold. She tried to call Aliya, then Raj, but neither of them picked up.

  What do I do?

  She wanted to scream, to bang her head against the wall. Aliya was still in Banff, she wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow, but why didn’t she have service? Mariam paced back and forth by the poolside, sweat beading on her brow, she was at a complete loss. They had already left multiple voicemails telling Aliya not to go back to her apartment. Mariam’s lower lip trembled.

  Should we tell Aliya not to come home at all?

  How could one man wreak so much destruction on her entire world?

  She had to do something, had to go somewhere, but she had no idea where. If she returned to the house, she would all but be giving herself up to Tareq, and there was no point in going to Aliya’s since she hadn’t returned yet.

  Her phone buzzed again, and she reached for it without looking at the screen.

  “Raj? Where are you?”

  “Mom? Are you okay? What happened?”

  Mariam groped behind her for one of the lawn chairs by the pool, “Aliya? Where are you? I thought you were still in Canada. Don’t come home.”

  Please still be in Canada.

  “What’s the matter with you? We got off the trail early, so I took an earlier flight. I just listened to all of your voicemails, what’s going on—”

  “Aliya, don’t go to your apartment, you can’t go home—”

  “I know, I told you I listened to your voicemails. Did my apartment get flooded or something? Anyway, I just parked, and I’m heading into the house now, let’s talk about it inside. I’ll see you in a sec—”

  The line cut off and Mariam’s mouth fell open—Aliya was at their house, exactly where Tareq was waiting.

  No.

  Austin, USA – May, 2016

  Tareq could hardly believe his luck. He was about to leave for Aliya’s apartment when her car materialized in the driveway before his eyes. He ducked to the side of the house as she got out, speaking emphatically to someone on the phone.

  “I know, I told you I listened to your voicemails. Did my apartment get flooded or something? Anyway, I just parked, and I’m heading into the house now, let’s talk about it inside. I’ll see you in a sec—”

  He hit her on the back of her head with a hardcover from the bookshelf and both the phone and book fell to the ground, clattering onto the driveway. She lashed out and he fell backward against the porch railing, losing his footing. He was surprised at the strength behind her jab, but he wouldn’t underestimate her again. Back on his feet, he launched forward, pinning her against the car hood, using his weight to his advantage. She kicked at him but wasn’t able to get enough leverage, so the force that landed on his groin was minimal. Leaning over, he held her down and smacked her twice, then stepped back, pulling his pistol from the back of his waistband.

  “Is this how you treat your elders?” he grunted. “Into the house, quietly.” She spat at him and he dodged, but it grazed his cheek and he wiped it off in disgust. “It’s time I teach you a lesson. You’ve been running wild your whole life, no idea where you actually belong.” He spat back, but it fell short, falling to the ground instead of reaching her face.

  Tareq glanced to either side quickly, glad that it was past rush hour, so most people in the neighborhood had already gone to work. He shoved her down onto one of the chairs from the dining table, used duct tape to tie her to the chair, then sat down on the couch, setting the pistol on the cushion next to him.

  “I have some news which will come as a shock to you—”

  “I know who you are, what do you want from me?” she snarled.

  She knows who I am?

  On top of that, why hadn’t she capitulated to him? He deserved her respect not her defiance. “I am a man, and I am your father. You don’t stand a chance against me, you don’t deserve that much.”

  “My father? You think you’re my father? I might have your DNA, but my dad is worth fifty of you. A hundred of you. He doesn’t need to hit my mom, to bolster his own ego by putting other people down—”

  “That’s enough,” Tareq raised his voice, brandishing the gun once more. “Mariam is my wife, she loved me, until he got into her head—”

  “You’re even more delusional than I thought. She may have been your wife on paper, but she would given anything to be free of you—she gave up her entire identity so that she would never have to be your wife again. Even when she thought that you were dead—”

  “You’re wrong about her, about all of it!” Tareq grasped her throat, unable to withstand her insolence any longer. “You will be silent.” She struggled to breathe but he held on, only releasing his grip when she blacked out.

  Austin, USA – May, 2016

  Mariam checked her watch for the fifteenth time, ten minutes in an Uber to get home had never felt so long. She tried Raj three times on the way, each going to voicemail; then dialed Aliya’s number eight times in a row, pleading to the heavens that she would pick up, that the house would be empty.

  The Uber driver looked at her several times in concern, she probably looked like a crazy person, furious and panicked and crying all at the same time. Only her adrenaline to get to Aliya was keeping her functional.

  I’ll do whatever I have to. If that means givin
g myself up to Tareq, so be it.

  For a second, she contemplated calling the police herself, but she didn’t dare, not until Aliya was out of harm’s way.

  When the driver stopped in front of her house, she leapt out of the car and burst into the living room, even more out of breath from racing up the driveway.

  “Aliya?” she screamed.

  Mariam’s face crumpled, her fears were confirmed. Aliya was tied up in a chair in the center of their living room, her head slumped over, with Tareq pointing a gun at her from behind.

  “Hello, Mariam, it’s been a while,” Tareq said with a malicious smile. “Don’t worry, she’s fine, I only knocked her out.”

  Mariam reeled backward, tripping over the floor joint between the living room and the entrance. She fell and used the wall for support to get to her feet. His voice cut through her psyche like a hot knife through butter—she was no longer an independent, strong woman in her forties. With a simple greeting he had turned her back into her meek nineteen-year-old self, dependent on him, desperate not to exasperate him, paralyzed and unable to move. But it was only for a couple of seconds—her daughter needed her. She stepped forward, still using the wall to stay upright.

  “Tareq, let her go. Please,” she whimpered, looking at him, pleading with every fiber of her being. “I’ll do anything.”

  “Anything? Even come back to me? Aliya had some interesting things to say about that—she said you’d never come back to me, that you were never even mine to begin with. Dinah said the same thing, but I always knew different.”