The Love and Lies of Rukhsana Ali

by Sabina Khan

  “I think we have a pretty good idea, Rachel,” I said, grinning at her as I reached over to smooth down her hair.

  “Well?” Ariana said. “Are you going to tell us?”

  While Rachel gushed about Cody and his make-out skills, I stole a glance at my watch.

  Crap. How did it get so late?

  If Mom or Dad decided to walk over to Jen’s and check up on me, like they did sometimes, I was dead.

  “Jen,” I said, panic tightening my throat. “I have to get home. Could you drive me, please?”

  “Already?” Jen’s voice had taken on a whiny tone.

  I drew a deep breath. “C’mon, you know what my parents are like. If they find out I’m at a party, I can kiss Caltech goodbye.”

  “Fine.” Jen grabbed her car keys out of her purse and handed them to me. “Just let me go tell Caitlin that I’ll be back after I drop you off.”

  “Okay, I’m going to go change really quick before we head out.” I went outside and grabbed my backpack from the back seat of Jen’s car before going back in to find the bathroom. I scrubbed my face until there was no trace of my fierce dark red lipstick and black eyeliner. I put on my hoodie and tied my hair back up in a ponytail, hoping Mom wouldn’t notice that it wasn’t in its usual state of uncontrollable frizz. I doused myself in jasmine body spray just in case. Hopefully she’d be half-asleep when I got back and wouldn’t pay attention. Ariana was waiting for me by the front door when I was done reverting back to my mother-approved self. She had that look she got every time I bailed on my friends to make it home before curfew. I quickly kissed her, said my goodbyes, and walked out before the guilt pulled me back in.

  It was just after eleven, way past my ten thirty curfew, by the time Jen pulled into my driveway.

  I entered as quietly as I could but wasn’t surprised to see Mom waiting up for me in her favorite recliner in the family room.

  “Good, you’re back. I was about to wake up Daddy to go over to Jennifer’s house and bring you home.” She stood and stretched. “Are you hungry? There’s still rice pudding left. I saved you some before Aamir finished it all.”

  I shook my head. “I ate at Jen’s house. But don’t let Aamir eat the pudding. I’ll eat it tomorrow.”

  She smiled indulgently. “You look tired. Look at those dark circles.” She kissed my forehead before tucking my hair behind my ears.

  “I’m going to go to sleep now. Good night, Mom,” I said as I walked up the stairs.

  “Good night, ammu.”

  My heart hammered in my chest as I unpacked my backpack, stashing my heels in the back of the closet and returning my makeup to the bathroom. I hid the forbidden red lipstick in my junk drawer, making sure it was impossible to find in all the other clutter.

  At school on Monday, Rachel, Jen, and I waited for Ariana to come out of band practice.

  “So were your parents mad that you came home late on Friday?” Rachel asked. She was wearing her basketball jersey, all ready to leave for a game after lunch.

  “No, I don’t think my mom realized how late it was,” I said.

  “I told you it would be fine,” Jen said. “You were just panicking for nothing.”

  I opened my mouth to retort, but then I spotted Ariana coming out of the band room and waved her over. I would have to talk with Jen later. Lately she’d been a little dismissive about my concerns and it was bugging me.

  “Hey, guys,” Ariana said, a little out of breath after fighting her way through the hallway crowd. “Ready for lunch?”

  When I arrived home from school Dad’s dark blue Toyota sat in its usual spot in our driveway. My anxiety took over and I immediately started thinking the worst.

  Why is he home so early? Did he and Mom find out about Friday night? I thought I was careful. Did they find out about Ariana?

  My legs trembled, threatening to give out at any moment. I found Mom and Dad sitting at the kitchen table. Aamir was there too. How did he always manage to get home before I did? The light coming through the window reflected off the wood veneer on the dining table, casting a soft glow around them.

  “Good. Madam is finally home,” Mom said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. It was never a good sign when Mom called me that. It meant she thought I was being too clever for my own good. My eyes fell to the pile of opened mail in front of them.

  “Rukhsana, what is the meaning of this?” Dad waved a letter in front of my face. I took it from him, my brow furrowed in confusion. As I skimmed the letter, a smile shattered the anxiety that had been building inside me.

  Mom threw her hands in the air and shook her head. “Look at your daughter, Ibrahim. Smiling as if she has won the lottery.”

  “Actually, I kind of did,” I said. I couldn’t stop smiling. It was an acceptance letter from Caltech stating they’d awarded me a full academic scholarship.

  “Why didn’t you tell us you were applying?” Dad asked.

  “Forget about all that. What makes you think we will let you go?” Mom’s voice shook ever so slightly.

  Mom had made it abundantly clear more than once that she wasn’t going to let me go out of state for college. The last time I’d brought it up hypothetically, she had asked me why I needed to go away from home to get an education. She’d brought up her friend’s daughter who attended the University of Washington. If it was good enough for her, then it should be good enough for me.

  That was reason 34 of 62,372 I decided not to tell my parents that I’d applied to Caltech. I hadn’t expected to get in, much less get a scholarship. At least now she couldn’t use money as an excuse.

  “I’m getting a full ride.” Sheer joy and relief bubbled through every pore in my body. “You don’t have to pay for anything.”

  “But it’s in California,” Mom said.

  Yes, hence the name Caltech.

  “California …” Dad’s voice trailed off as he pondered this concept. “That is very far away.” It finally dawned on him. “How will you get there?”

  By plane, train, or automobile?

  “Rukhsana, why are you talking about such strange things?” Mom said.

  Umm, I don’t know. Because I want to have a life?

  “Mom, it’s an amazing opportunity. Mr. Jacobs said a lot of people apply for a scholarship to Caltech. I’m lucky to get one.” My voice had risen several octaves and yet Mom looked completely unimpressed.

  “Who is this Mr. Jacobs? Is he Bengali? Does he know that we don’t send our unmarried girls across the country?”

  My counselor, Mr. Jacobs, was not Bengali. I was pretty sure he was from the Midwest. And no, he did not share my parents’ views on unmarried girls.

  “Mom, you met Mr. Jacobs last year, remember? He’s the one who told you Aamir was failing math and science.”

  “Hey,” Aamir protested, his mouth full of samosa. “I didn’t fail. Mr. Jacobs just hates me.”

  “Yup, that’s it. It’s all Mr. Jacobs’s fault,” I said in mock agreement. Classic Aamir, always blaming everyone else.

  “Aamir is a very intelligent boy,” Mom said, raising her hands in anticipation of my usual verbal onslaught. “It’s not his fault that his brain cannot wait for everyone else to catch up.”

  “Zubaida,” Dad interjected. “You have to admit, our Rukhsana is also brilliant. Caltech is a very good school.”

  Mom shook her head and put two more samosas on Aamir’s plate.

  “Thanks, Dad,” I said. “At least someone in this house thinks I can do more than cook.” I snagged a couple of samosas before they were all gone.

  “Rukhsana, your mother just wants you to be taken care of after you are married. You know how difficult it was for us when your mother and I first moved to this country,” Dad said, his eyes glazing over with that faraway look he always got when talking about the past.

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Daddy, I know. I’ve heard this story a hundred times before.”

  He ignored me.

  “We arrived here with practicall
y nothing except the clothes on our backs, a small suitcase, and some cash my brother had loaned us.” He turned to Mom. “Remember, Zubaida, that first table we bought?” He smiled as their eyes met, heavy with secrets from a time before I existed.

  “Yes, how can I forget?” Mom said. “It was blue, a small card table really, but it was all we could afford at the time.” She turned to look at me.

  “When you came along, Rukhsana, everything changed,” she said, her tone softening as she remembered.

  Dad touched my cheek gently and I placed my hand over his.

  “Suddenly nothing was good enough,” Mom said. “Your daddy worked two jobs just so he could buy you everything. But then we talked to your Uncle Maruf.”

  “It was his idea to start a business of our own,” Dad said.

  Mom got up to make some chai. I stood, intending to help, but she motioned for me to sit while she continued to reminisce.

  “He told us the Bangladeshi community needed a local shop where they could buy hilsa fish and jackfruit and panch phoron,” Mom said.

  “And he wasn’t wrong,” Dad chimed in. “The store did well right from the beginning.”

  They fell quiet for a minute until the sound of water bubbling on the stove broke the silence.

  “This is why I am very proud of you, Rukhsana,” Dad said. “I never managed to get a degree, but my daughter will.”

  “That is all good,” Mom said. The kettle whistled and she turned off the stove. “But why does she have to go so far away? Let her be brilliant nearby. What is wrong with UW?”

  Nothing at all, except it isn’t Caltech.

  “UW doesn’t have a good physics and astronomy program, Mom.”

  “Imagine”—Dad looked at Mom with a broad smile—“our daughter, a physicist. Or maybe even an astronaut.” His eyes glistened with pride.

  Mom’s eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline. “What will you do with a degree in astronomy, hanh? Will you climb into a spaceship and fly off to Jupiter?” She shook her head and looked at my dad. “Ibrahim, please talk some sense into your daughter.”

  What I wouldn’t give to be on Jupiter right now.

  “Okay, Rukhsana, we’ll talk about it,” Dad said. “There is still plenty of time.”

  Mom poured chai into three cups and placed them in front of us.

  Dad stood and stretched. “I have some work to finish before dinner,” he announced before taking his cup of tea into the study with him.

  “Aamir, go upstairs and finish your homework,” Mom said, and I braced myself for more lecturing on how it was better for everyone if I didn’t go away for college.

  “Rukhsana,” Mom began as soon as Aamir left the kitchen. “You know I am very proud of you, right?” She took a sip of her tea and looked at me, her eyes filled with concern.

  She sighed deeply and her shoulders sagged. “I worry what people will say. If you move away, there is no telling what kind of nasty rumors will fly around.”

  I sipped slowly at my tea to buy myself some time. “Mom, I can’t make important life decisions based on what people might say.”

  “But that’s what your father and I are here for. It is our job to make all the important decisions. That way we can make sure there is nothing for anyone to gossip about.”

  What would she do if she found out about my relationship with Ariana? I knew I had to come out to my parents at some point. But definitely not before I was eighteen and over a thousand miles away with Ariana in California.

  As Ariana’s soft lips trailed down the side of my neck, I let out a soft moan. I turned to face her and buried my hands in her hair. Her arms circled my waist, pulling me closer until we blended into each other, a feverish tangle of limbs. The chiming sound of the doorbell startled me and I jumped away from Ariana in a panic.

  “Shit.” Ariana’s face was ashen. “Who could that be?” Her fingers shook as she hastily buttoned up her blouse.

  “I don’t know. My mom is supposed to be at the dentist—”

  “Rukhsana?” I froze. It was Aunty Meena. If she found us like this—

  I didn’t want to complete that thought.

  “Ariana, hurry. You have to hide,” I whispered, pulling her toward the pantry. Her eyes widened.

  “Are you crazy? I’m not hiding in there,” she protested, pulling her arm away. “You realize you’re literally forcing me back into the closet.”

  “Rukhsana, I can see you moving around in there. Open the door,” Aunty Meena called out.

  “I’m so sorry.” I planted a big kiss on Ariana’s lips right before shoving her inside. “I’ll get rid of her in two minutes, I promise,” I said, shutting the door in her face.

  I straightened my shirt and ran my fingers through my hair. Taking a deep breath, probably my last, I opened the door with a professionally fake smile plastered on my face.

  “Aunty Meena … how nice to see you,” I lied, waving her into the living room. She floated regally past me, a cacophony of colors with her voluminous silk sari swishing around her ankles. Her floral perfume engulfed me in a suffocating cloud.

  “Here, I brought some halwa.” Her eyes scanned the living room as she handed me a glass container.

  “Thank you, Aunty. You’re the best.” I ushered her toward the couch.

  “Why did you take so long?” she asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “Sorry, I just got home from school, so I was changing upstairs.”

  She pursed her lips as she ran her eyes up and down the length of me.

  “You’ve become so dark,” she declared. “I keep telling you that you need to stay out of the sun, but you kids nowadays.” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. “You never listen to your elders.”

  Gulping down my murderous inclinations, I forced a smile. I needed her to leave, but if I rushed her visit she would definitely mention it to Mom and then I’d have to explain myself.

  “You look so pretty, Aunty,” I gushed. “Is that a new sari? I don’t think I’ve seen this one before.” That always did it. Her face relaxed and settled into a self-satisfied sneer.

  “Yes, your Uncle Maruf bought it for me on his last trip to Dhaka,” she said. “Where is your mother?”

  “She had a dentist’s appointment and I’m not sure when she’ll be back. Would you like a cup of chai?” I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth.

  Maybe she’ll say no. Please please please say no.

  “Yes, I think I’ll have a cup,” she said, before settling into the love seat. The cushions protested in vain while she wiggled herself into a comfortable position. She adjusted the aanchal of her sari so that the peacocks in the pattern lay right in her lap and looked at me expectantly.

  “Well, are you going to just stand there or will you make me some tea?”

  “Of course, Aunty. I’ll be right back.”

  I rushed back into the kitchen.

  Poor Ariana. This was going to take a lot longer than I thought.

  I opened the pantry door quietly and peered inside. Ariana was still alive, sitting cross-legged on the floor and playing with her phone. She raised her head to glare at me.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, bending down to kiss her quickly on the lips. “I panicked. I’ll get rid of her as fast as I can. I promise.”

  “Rukhsana, do you want me to help you with the chai?” I jumped at the sound of Aunty Meena’s voice right behind me.

  That woman was a ninja.

  “No, no, please relax, Aunty. I’ve got it,” I said, hastily shutting the pantry door.

  “Okay, let’s see how well your mother has taught you.” Aunty settled into a perch on one of the kitchen stools.

  I forced my breathing to slow down while I retrieved cups and saucers from the cabinet. I threw a glance at Aunty Meena. She was flipping through a copy of Femina, the Indian magazine where she and Mom caught up on all the latest Bollywood gossip.

  A hiss from the stove brought me back to the t
ask at hand. The milk had nearly boiled over. I quickly reduced the heat and put in the black tea, fresh ginger, cinnamon, cloves, and cardamom.

  The aroma immediately began to fill the room, easing my nerves slightly. When the chai was ready, I placed a cup in front of Aunty.

  She blew on it before taking a careful sip. “Very nice, Rukhsana,” she said, nodding in approval.

  I turned away for just a second to take the saucepan off the heat and when I looked her way again she was at the pantry door.

  “Your mom’s delicious cumin cookies would go so well with the chai,” she said, her hand closing around the handle. My heart was in my mouth.

  I quickly jumped in front of her before she could open the door.

  “I’ll get them, Aunty. They’re on the top shelf; you won’t be able to reach them.” I gave her a very gentle push back toward the kitchen island.

  “You’re acting very strange today, Rukhsana. What’s the matter with you?” she asked, getting back to her perch.

  “Nothing, Aunty, I’m fine,” I said, opening the pantry door cautiously.

  Ariana leaned against the wall, holding out a tin of cookies.

  “I’m so sorry,” I mouthed, grabbing the tin before closing the door in her face once again.

  “Are you sure?” Aunty Meena insisted. “Why are you so jumpy?”

  “Just too much coffee, Aunty,” I replied quickly, grabbing a plate from the cabinet. I put a few cookies on it and placed it in front of her. “I’ve had a lot of studying to do these past few days.” Hopefully that would satisfy her.

  “Good, good. Studying is good,” she said, dunking her cookie into the chai before taking a bite. “Nowadays no one wants a daughter-in-law without at least a bachelor’s degree.”

  I bit my tongue.

  Yes, that’s the reason I work so hard at school. To make sure that I will be a worthy bride for some loser.

  Aunty Meena sipped the last of her chai and finally slid off the stool. “Okay, Rukhsana, I have to go now. Your uncle will be home soon and I still have to make dinner. The chai was very good, by the way.”