by Sabina Khan
“Thank you, Aunty. Please remember to tell Mom, okay? She thinks I’m useless in the kitchen.” I gently ushered her out into the living room before she changed her mind.
“She is just worried that she won’t find a good match for you, that’s all.” Aunty Meena pulled me in for a quick hug before walking out.
I shut the door and slumped against it, heaving a big sigh of relief. That was too close.
I ran back to the kitchen and flung open the pantry door. Ariana sat on the floor, her shirt covered in cookie crumbs.
“Is she gone?” she whispered, standing and brushing off the crumbs.
I nodded, pulling her gently out of the pantry and into my arms.
“I’m so sorry. I panicked and didn’t know what to do,” I said, chuckling into her hair.
Ariana pulled away and narrowed her eyes at me. “Do you think this is funny?” she demanded. The corners of her mouth twitched, giving her away. We held each other’s gaze before breaking into laughter.
“I was terrified she would open the pantry to get the cookies,” I said. “I don’t know what I would have done if she had caught you in there.”
“I thought you were never coming back. I was so glad you had chocolate chip ones in there. I was starving.” Ariana found a big crumb clinging to the front of her shirt and popped it into her mouth.
“I’d planned to make us something to eat, but someone decided to distract me, remember?” I teased, pulling her to me. We swiftly picked back up where we’d left off.
“I bet Aunty Meena will mention something to my mom,” I said when we took a moment to breathe. “She knew something was up.”
Ariana stared at me. “Are you ever planning to tell your parents about me?”
I cringed, not knowing what to say. We’d had this conversation before and it always went the same way.
“Ariana, you know how it is with my family. They’ll never understand.”
“So, what are you saying? That I’ll always be your little secret? Because I’m getting kind of tired of this.” She forcefully straightened her skirt.
“Ariana, what do you want me to do? If I tell them they’ll kick me out or lock me up or some other crazy shit. I can’t take that risk, not with graduation coming up. Things will be much different when we get to Caltech.”
I gazed deep into her eyes, willing her to understand. “You know how much you mean to me.” I squeezed her hands.
She didn’t pull away and I felt a small fluttering of hope. I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her tight.
“I’ll tell them,” I whispered into her ear. “Soon, I promise. Just not right now. I can’t risk it.”
She tensed and pulled away from me, her hands slipping out of mine. “Rukhsana, I know how hard it is for you. But you have to understand how it feels to be hidden away. As if I’m something you’re ashamed of.”
And with that she left. I didn’t go after her because I knew it wouldn’t matter. She needed time to be alone and I needed to think. What if she was right?
After lying in bed for a few hours, unable to sleep, I grabbed my cell phone off the nightstand.
I stared at the screen, willing her reply to pop up. Nothing. Of course she was still mad at me. Who could blame her? Was I ever going to have the courage to face my parents? I thought I had the perfect plan. We would go to Caltech together and be far away from home, so no one in Seattle would know about our relationship. But was that really how I wanted to live my life? In the shadows, hiding away the person I loved?
I checked my phone again. Still nothing.
A minute ticked by. Then finally, a ping.
I wanted to cry but the tears wouldn’t come. Maybe because I knew I wasn’t being fair to Ariana.
As I finally drifted off to sleep, one thought lingered.
She deserved better than this.
I waited by Ariana’s locker after school the next day, anxiously twirling a curl of my hair. She hadn’t replied to my text this morning and now my stomach was in knots. I scanned the crowded hallway, desperate to find her. Then, from out of the crushing mob, she appeared carrying her violin in her left hand. She wore high-waisted black jeans with a pale yellow sweater and her thick, chestnut hair cascaded down her shoulders. It always reminded me of the betel nuts we’d find strewn around my grandmother’s yard back in Bangladesh.
I waved, a slight smile edging up the sides of my mouth. Ariana’s face hardened when she saw me, hesitating before continuing toward me.
“Ariana, I’m so sorry about yesterday,” I said, grabbing her by the hand as soon as she was beside me. “You were right about everything. I’m going to tell my parents, I swear.” I touched her cheek gently, her skin smooth beneath my fingers. “And you’re not my little secret. You’re everything to me. But I just need a little more time.”
She didn’t say anything, although her eyes filled up a little. Then she blinked back the tears and nodded.
“I’m sorry too,” she said, squeezing my hand. “Look, Rukhsana, I know it’s different in your family and I should be more patient. But it’s just so hard sometimes.” I threw open my arms, wrapping them around her.
“I know it sucks. But I just don’t want to give them any reason to stop me from going to Caltech.”
“You think they’ll ever accept us?”
“I don’t know.” I fell silent, my shoulders sagging. “Could we go over to your place and talk after school?”
“So, what are you going to do?” Ariana asked, joining me on the edge of her bed.
“Well, for now, I’d really like it if you came over for dinner and met them.”
“What if they don’t like me?”
“Come on, Ariana,” I said, giving her a quick kiss. “They’ll love you. Just like I do.” She stiffened for a moment. Then, leaning in, she kissed me back.
“I love you too,” she whispered in my ear. She pulled back and looked at me earnestly. “What do you think I should wear?”
I grinned. “You should wear a burqa. My friend Nasreen has one, I think. I could ask to borrow it for you.”
“You think you’re so funny,” Ariana said, making a face at me. “But we can’t tell them about us, right?”
“No,” I said hastily. “Not yet. But that doesn’t mean they can’t get to know you as my friend.”
She smiled again. “Well, that depends,” she said teasingly.
“On what?”
“If you can keep your hands off me,” she replied, running her fingers up my arm.
A week later I was nervous and excited all at once. My parents would be meeting Ariana for the first time and I was terrified something would go wrong. It wasn’t as though I was going to introduce her as my girlfriend. As far as my parents were concerned, she was just another friend from school. But after months of sneaking around, I would finally bring her home officially. It felt like a tiny step in the right direction.
Mom wasn’t home when Ariana and I arrived after school, so we worked on our homework in the kitchen until she came back. Because that’s what girls who were friends did. Homework in the kitchen, instead of making out over calculus.
Midway through our next-to-last assignment, Mom came home with sweets from the store and bags of groceries.
“Ariana, I hear you’re new to the school,” Mom said as she put the groceries away.
“Yes, Mrs. Ali, my family moved here right before the fall semester started.” Ariana’s voice had a slight tremor.
“I’m glad you can join us for dinner. Have you had much Indian food before?”
“A couple of times and I really liked it.” Ariana was quite adventurous when it came to food.
“Good, then I won’t have to hold back on the spices too much,” Mom said, beaming with satisfaction.
“Okay, Mom, but please don’t go too crazy with the chili powder.” I didn’t want Ariana to run out of here with her mouth on fire.
“Don’t worry, ammu. Now go and finish your schoolwork and I’ll
call you when dinner is ready.”
We gathered our books and ran upstairs.
“That was a little scary,” Ariana said, slightly out of breath. “But your mom seems super nice,” she added quickly.
I nodded. “She’s always happy when she can cook for my friends.”
We worked on our homework, not daring to share more than a longing glance with each other every so often.
“Rukhsana, dinner is ready,” Mom called from downstairs about an hour later.
“Are you ready for the Bengali Inquisition?” I grinned at her terrified expression.
“You can laugh all you want, Rukhsana,” Ariana said sternly. “But if I screw up, I still get to go home. What will you do?” she added teasingly.
I peeked my head into Aamir’s room to drag him down to dinner with us and found him playing one of his Assassin’s Code video games or whatever, as usual.
“Aamir, get up. Mom’s calling us down for dinner,” I said as he tore his attention away from the screen.
“Is she here?” he said conspiratorially, trying to look over my shoulder.
“Yes, she’s here, and stop being so rude. Come and say hi like a normal person.”
He jumped up and came to the door.
“Hey, Ariana, how’s it going? Today’s the big day, right?” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned knowingly.
“Shut up, Aamir, nothing’s happening. Ariana’s just over for dinner, that’s all. So, don’t even think about mentioning it.” Aamir shrugged nonchalantly.
“Geez, relax, I get it. I won’t say anything. You don’t have to be so bossy. I’ve kept my mouth shut until now, haven’t I?” He looked at me with a wounded expression.
His fake hurt feelings were nothing I hadn’t dealt with before.
“Just watch it, okay?”
He had a point though. He’d known about Ariana and me for a while now and had never ever said anything to make my parents suspicious. I knew he had my back, but then again, he could be really stupid sometimes.
“So, Ariana, where did you move here from?” Dad asked when we were all seated at the dinner table.
“San Diego. My dad got transferred here back in September,” Ariana replied.
“And what line of work is your father in?” I’d warned Ariana that meeting my parents for the first time was more like a job interview than a casual dinner at a friend’s house.
“He’s in IT,” she said.
“And your mother?” Mom asked as she offered Ariana some chicken.
“She’s in IT as well.” Ariana poured a spoonful of chicken curry over her rice. When Mom continued to hold the dish in front of her, she took another spoonful.
“That must be nice, to work in the same field,” Mom said, satisfied that Ariana had enough food on her plate. No one came to our house for a meal and left without a food baby.
We all watched intently as Ariana took a tentative bite, expecting her to combust spontaneously. But she seemed fine, only reaching for her glass of water after finishing half of her food.
I had to give her props for not getting up and running out the door. I could bet she’d never eaten a meal under such intense scrutiny. I’d feel sorry for her, but I had to admit I was having too much fun.
“Wow,” Aamir said after she had only about a third of the food left on her plate. “I’m impressed. You can really handle the heat.”
Ariana smiled at him. “We tend to eat out a lot. And my parents like their food spicy too.”
“Then we must have them over for dinner soon,” Mom said, smiling broadly. I knew she was already planning the menu in her head.
“Yes, they would love that,” Ariana said. I stretched out my foot under the table to touch hers, but she didn’t seem to notice. Aamir, on the other hand, gave me a weird look. I quickly withdrew my leg and shoveled some food into my mouth.
“And what are your plans after graduation?” Dad asked Ariana as he took a second helping.
“Well, I’m thinking of going back to California for college,” she said. “All my old friends are still there, and my parents plan to move back there eventually.”
“What field do you want to study?” Mom asked as she spooned more rice and curry on Ariana’s plate.
“Computer science. I am my parents’ daughter, after all,” Ariana said, worriedly eyeing the food on her plate. I looked at Aamir, trying not to laugh. Ariana was too preoccupied with fielding my parents’ interrogation to notice.
“Good, good,” Dad said thoughtfully. It looked like both my parents approved of Ariana. I relaxed my shoulders a little. This was going better than I’d hoped.
“Has Rukhsana told you she is also planning to go to California for college?” Mom said.
I nearly choked on a piece of chicken and gulped down some water to compose myself. “Wait, I am?”
“Yes, it will be nice for you to have a friend while you are there,” Dad said. “Maybe you can even live together.”
What is happening right now?
Ariana nodded calmly and smiled. “Yes, she’s mentioned it a few times.”
Mom stood to clear the plates and Ariana and I helped, while Aamir slinked off as usual.
For once, I didn’t care because not only did I have my girlfriend by my side—even if my parents didn’t know that’s who she was to me—I was going to Caltech.
A family friend had invited us to his daughter’s wedding. In true Bengali fashion, everyone even remotely known to the bride’s family was invited. As we walked into the lavishly decorated wedding hall, I looked around to find my friends. There had to be at least a thousand people here, all dressed to the hilt.
“There you are, Rukhsana.” The shrill voice belonged to Nasreen, a Bengali girl my age. Our parents were friends so we saw each other frequently at dinner parties. She was draped in a purple sari, shot with silver thread and gorgeously intricate embroidered flowers. A heavy silver necklace with matching earrings adorned her neck, and she wore sets of two dozen silver and purple bangles on each arm.
“Nasreen, how are you? You look beautiful. It’s been way too long.”
“I’m fine. Oh my God, I love your sari. That dark blue chiffon is gorgeous on you. And that necklace. I bet you Irfan won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”
“Irfan? How do you know him?” Irfan was the son of one of Uncle Maruf’s friends and was known as somewhat of a prodigy in the Bengali community. Although I’d never officially met him, I’d heard about him through the grapevine. Mainly because my mom and Aunty Meena were hoping to snag him for me. Apparently he was good husband material, because all the aunties with young daughters were aquiver.
“Please, Rukhsana, you think your mom is the only one looking? My mother heard he just got promoted to VP of marketing at his firm. She went into nuclear launch mode when she heard your aunty was talking you up to his mom.”
Sounded like this Irfan was the Mr. Darcy of Seattle’s Bangladeshi community.
“Seriously? What’s so special about this guy?” Not that I was interested, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the turf war about to ensue. Who needed Bollywood when we had the real-life drama right here in Seattle?
Nasreen shook her head. “I don’t know and I don’t really care. I already have a boyfriend, Salim, remember? But I did get this new sari out of it.”
She nudged me. “Look, that’s him over there.”
My eyes followed to where she pointed. All I saw were overdressed older women wearing far too much gold. I had to wait a moment before I spotted him. He was standing in the middle of all those women, smiling and charming them. No wonder they were trying to snag him for their daughters. From where I stood I couldn’t make out much of his appearance, other than being tall. For a Bengali, that meant five foot seven or so. We were a vertically challenged people. What we lacked in height we made up with our love for food, poetry, and music.
To my horror, Irfan caught my eye while I was checking him out. He leaned forward to say someth
ing to one of the aunties surrounding him. I quickly looked away before one of them saw me and came over to scratch my eyes out. Nasreen had lost interest and was texting on her phone, so I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away with me toward the bathroom.
“What’s going on? What did I miss?” Nasreen said, tucking her phone back in her bra.
“I think he saw me looking, that’s all.”
“Soooo,” she said suggestively. “What do you think?”
“I don’t see what the big deal is. But it’s hilarious how the aunties are all over him.”
Just then, Aunty Meena descended upon us and Nasreen made a quick escape.
“Rukhsana, you are looking very beautiful. This dark blue color is looking very good on your skin.” She nodded appreciatively as she checked out my gold choker and the teardrop-shaped earrings.
“Thank you, Aunty. You look very nice too,” I murmured.
“Nice, shice … I am an old woman. These weddings are for you young people. Where else will you find your husbands?”
Oh, I don’t know … college, the internet? Apparently, it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single Bengali girl of marrying age must be in want of a husband.
She scanned the crowd and then froze, having spotted her prey. I followed her gaze only to find myself staring directly at him. Irfan. The Boy Wonder. He looked back with smug amusement, clearly used to girls and women fawning over him.
I would have loved to burst his bubble, but obviously, I couldn’t risk exposing myself. I could just imagine the panic and chaos. This would become ground zero for the lesbian plague. So, I smiled demurely back at him as Aunty Meena did her best handiwork.
“Irfan … there you are, my darling boy,” she crooned.
“Aunty Meena, you look breathtaking in that sari. Maruf Uncle is a very lucky man.” I nearly gagged. He laid it on very thick, but I had to admit he was good. Aunty Meena’s face looked like a gulab jamun that had been left in syrup for too long.
“Oh, Irfan … you naughty boy. Don’t let your uncle hear you saying such things. He gets very jealous, you know.” Aunty Meena fanned herself with the aanchal of her sari.