by Sabina Khan
I wanted to get mad at her. But a part of me wondered if they were right. Could my parents be telling the truth?
“I don’t know. I’m not sure if I can trust them again.” I took a few sips of my coffee before setting my mug down.
“Why don’t you talk to them? Give it a shot,” Sara said. “If you feel like they’re trying anything again, you don’t have to keep going. You’re graduating in a month anyway, and then you can leave if you want.”
Irfan nodded slowly.
“I just think you might regret it if you don’t even try.”
Back at home that night, I was lying in bed, unable to stop thinking about my conversation with Sara and Irfan. What would it be like to not have my family in my life anymore? Would I regret it one day when I was older? I thought about Nani and never seeing her again. My heart ached, and my mind went to her diary. In the chaos of the last few days, I had completely forgotten about it. I pulled it out of my purse, sat on the edge of my bed, and began to read.
Today Arif went to Zubaida. I knew what he was going to do as soon as I saw him walk toward her room. I tried to stop him, but he pushed me away so hard that I hit my head on the wall and fainted. When I was conscious again, the door to her room was open and Zubaida was on her bed crying. There was blood on her sheets and her upper lip was split open. I raged inside, but I didn’t want him to hear us. I took her to the bathroom and showed her how to clean up. She would not look at me. I have failed her as a mother. I didn’t protect her. But this will be the last time he touches her.
I ran to the bathroom and threw up. I pressed a wet towel against my forehead and closed my eyes, but the image of my mother being violated by her own father was too much. I splashed cold water on my face and sat down on the covered toilet seat. How many more secrets were there in this family? It was horrible. I felt as if I’d been a stranger in my own life.
Never in my worst nightmares had I imagined anything like this. I would give anything to be with my mother right now and just hold her and try to take away the horror and pain the little girl in her had endured.
She had never spoken about any of this. At least not to me. Did Dad know? Was that the reason he always gave in to her? Because of what he knew she’d gone through? I knew he didn’t agree with the way my mom had handled everything these past few months. If he’d really wanted to he could have stopped her. Now I wondered if he would do just about anything to make her happy. And I knew what I had to do.
I found my mom in the kitchen. She was cooking and didn’t hear me come in.
“Mom,” I said, “can we talk?”
She turned around and saw me standing there. Her face was tearstained; it was as if she hadn’t stopped crying since she got back. Moving a large pot to the back burner, she turned off the stove before sitting down at the table. I pulled out a chair and sat across from her.
“Mom, I need to know the truth. Are you really being honest this time?”
She nodded slowly, as if she was afraid I’d change my mind and walk away if I didn’t like her answer.
“Rukhsana, I know you don’t believe me, but I made a mistake; I was wrong. I let other people’s opinions influence me too much.” She dabbed at her eyes with her orna.
“What changed your mind?” I had to know what it was, that defining moment when she realized she was wrong.
“It wasn’t just one thing, ammu. When you didn’t come to the hall that night, at first, I was so angry and ashamed of you. Then after all the people left, I started thinking. What if I never saw you again? What if you were gone from my life forever? But I was still angry.”
“And what did you do?”
“We started calling, but you wouldn’t answer. And then we heard the news about Sohail, and it was so terrible. His mother collapsed and his father, that poor man. No parent should ever lose their child in that way.”
The tears were falling freely from her eyes, but she made no effort to wipe them away.
“You know, Rukhsana, I thought I was being a good Muslim, stopping you from committing a grave sin. But that night I realized I was the real sinner. In the eyes of Allah, I was doing wrong. To hate someone because of who they love, that is the worst thing I could do, as a Muslim, as a human being, but mostly as a mother. When we found out that Sohail was killed because he was gay, I knew that Allah would never want that for anyone. And I knew that I still had the chance to make things right, but it breaks my heart every day to know that it took Sohail’s death to open my eyes. For that I will never forgive myself.”
At the mention of Sohail, my eyes filled with tears.
“Your father and I, we couldn’t bear the look in his parents’ eyes. They were broken, losing a son like that. That’s when we realized what we had done. To lose your child is a horrible thing. But to push your child away the way we did with you? That is even worse. We didn’t know where you were. But then Shaila told us about your whole plan. And we realized how close we had come to losing you forever. If you had been with Sohail, who knows what could have happened.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and reached out to hold her hand. That was all it took. She stood up and pulled me into her arms and sobbed like a child.
“I am so sorry, ammu,” she said repeatedly, and then I was sobbing too.
I drew in a shaky breath. There was one more thing I wanted to ask her, but I decided that it could wait.
“Mom, I’ve cried enough for the last few months, and I don’t want to cry anymore.”
She nodded, wiping her tears. “I don’t want you to cry anymore either. From now on I just want to see you happy and smiling. No more tears, okay?”
Just then Dad and Aamir walked back into the house bearing groceries. They both looked surprised to see Mom and me hugging.
“So? Is everything alright?” Dad asked hesitantly.
I smiled and went over to give him a hug. He buried his head in my hair and cried.
Mom jumped into action and began to transfer the food into serving dishes while Dad and I set the table. Even Aamir helped by putting away the groceries. There was mutton curry, basmati rice with peas and carrots, and spicy eggplant. It was delicious, and I realized how much I’d missed my mom’s cooking.
We talked about my plans for the future.
“Mr. Jacobs said I only need to finish math and chemistry to graduate. Then I can still go to Caltech in the fall. But I may have lost my scholarship.”
“I can write a letter to Caltech and explain what happened,” Dad said. “I will tell them it was our fault, that you didn’t have a choice. They will understand.”
If only it were that simple.
“Mr. Jacobs said he would explain the situation. And I’ll explain it to them myself. As long as I get good grades in these two courses, they should consider me in the same way as last time.”
“Then we will do everything to make sure that you have plenty of time to study,” said Mom.
“Maybe Aamir can help out more?” I suggested with a grin in his direction.
“Yes, Aamir. From now on you are going to help with the dishes, okay?” Mom said as she stood up and began to clear the table.
Aamir nodded while simultaneously glaring at me behind her back.
“I think I’ll go up and study now,” I said innocently, sticking my tongue out at my brother. Things were already getting better.
I went up to my room and called Irfan.
“Hey, are you free to talk?” I said when he answered.
“Yeah, sure. Sara’s here too. I’ll put you on speaker. What’s up?”
“I took your advice and talked to my parents.”
“And what happened?” Sara said.
“I’m actually really glad I did. I mean, there’s still a lot to process, but it’s a start.”
“I’m so happy for you,” they both said simultaneously.
I smiled. “I just wanted to say thank you both. For being there and, you know, everything.”
“Hey, we sh
ould be thanking you,” Irfan said. “My parents are planning our wedding.”
“I am so happy for you both,” I said excitedly. “You guys, that’s so great. Have you set a date yet?”
“Yes, it’s in March,” Sara said. “We didn’t want to say anything because of everything else, but now I’m so excited I can tell you all about it.”
My phone pinged the next morning while I was walking to school.
It was Ariana.
It was the longest day. When the bell finally rang, I sprinted the few blocks to the recreation center. Ariana was waiting outside the gym, the curls on her forehead slightly damp with sweat and her cheeks flushed.
I walked up to her and we sat at one of the tables in the lobby.
“Thanks for agreeing to see me,” I said, wishing that my heart wouldn’t beat so loudly. I didn’t want her to know just how nervous I was.
“Well, Jen kept hounding me to talk to you so here I am.” She wouldn’t look me in the eyes, just like last time, and it scared me so much that the words just came tumbling out. I couldn’t have stopped even if I wanted to.
I watched her eyes widen as I told her every sordid detail of what had transpired in the months I’d been away. It occurred to me that I should have done this a long time ago, like right after I got back. It wasn’t really fair of me to expect Ariana to understand when she didn’t have all the facts. But I couldn’t then. Now, as I got to the part where Sohail was killed, the pain pierced me like a lance, going right through the scab that had formed over the wound in my heart. The tears fell and I didn’t even care that people around us could see. All I knew was that Ariana was crying too.
We walked to the small park behind the rec center, stopping at the fountain and sitting on the grass.
Ariana took my hand and used her free one to wipe away my tears. Then she leaned over and kissed me.
It had been so long since I’d felt her soft lips on mine that my insides turned to mush. This was a kiss of forgiveness and acceptance, and by the time we came up for air, the weight of sadness I’d been carrying around for so long had dissipated.
We sat there holding each other, neither of us saying a word.
Eventually Ariana looked at me, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
“I can’t believe I was so horrible to you. And you had to go through all that alone. I should have been there for you.” She hung her head and a few fat tears trailed down her face.
“I wanted to tell you everything from the beginning. But I felt we were so far away from each other, and I don’t mean just the physical distance. I didn’t think you’d understand. Or maybe I didn’t know how to explain it.” I sighed, remembering all the nights I’d cried myself to sleep, wishing Ariana was with me.
“You know, Rukhsana, if I’m being really honest, I don’t think I would have understood.” Ariana wiped away her tears. “I was so angry, and I couldn’t understand why you didn’t just leave. And that’s on me.”
She took my hand and held it in her lap.
“I was thinking about your life, your family, and your culture and everything. And I realized that I was judging you for not being able to just walk away.”
“You were? But you knew—”
“I did. But I didn’t really appreciate what your family means to you and that there is a huge difference in the way you and I were raised. And if I truly love you, then I need to embrace that part of you. Not just the part that’s like me.”
I let her words sink in and thought about all the times I’d resented her for not getting it. And now, as I looked at her, I felt deliriously happy that I didn’t have to be the one to point out that I wasn’t only the person everyone saw me as in my regular life in Seattle. I had a whole other life, one that I loved, one that made me who I was. And that included my overprotective, often narrow-minded parents, who had sacrificed a lot to give me and my brother the lives we had. And while Ariana, Jen, and Rachel might think that it should be easy for me to just walk away from it all, that was not who I was. There were so many things I loved about my Bangladeshi side. I loved the clothes, the food, and the Bengali songs my mom listened to. I loved the old movies, the family friends dropping in unannounced and staying for dinner, and the sound of them speaking the language I loved but spoke with a ridiculous American accent.
But I also loved the part of me that wanted to kiss Ariana and hang out with my friends watching cheesy horror movies all night. It was not easy finding a way to reconcile these two equally vital parts of my identity, my life. But it was definitely worth fighting for.
“Rukhsana, your aunty and I wanted to talk to you about something. Can you please sit for a minute?”
Mom was waiting for me in the family room when I got back home. And Aunty Meena was with her. A feeling of dread came over me immediately. Not again. Nothing good ever came from Aunty Meena’s visits, and it always took more than a minute. Much more.
“Yes, what is it?” I said nervously as I wiped my damp palms on my jeans.
“Well, we wanted to ask you something,” Aunty Meena started. “We don’t know anything about lesbians.”
I stared at her, dumbfounded. What was she talking about?
“We were just wondering. And we had some questions,” Mom said, looking mortified.
“Wait. I have written it down. All the questions,” Aunty Meena said, pulling out a folded piece of paper from her bra. I did not want to know what else she kept in there. I picked my jaw up off the floor while Aunty Meena fished out her reading glasses from her purse.
“Okay, so number one: When did you first know that you were a lesbian?” She peered at me over the lenses.
I was trapped. They were both looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to answer.
“Well, I guess it was when my friends started going out with guys and I didn’t have a boyfriend.” I shrugged, having no intention of telling them that I’d known since my first crush in middle school. “I realized that none of the boys made me feel anything.”
I didn’t like where this was going, and I wasn’t going to wait around for question number two. “Um … I’ve got a lot of homework to do actually,” I said. “But we’ll talk more later,” I added, running out as fast as I could.
I was lying. I did not intend to take part in any more awkward conversations.
“Okay, but remember I have more questions,” Aunty Meena called out as I disappeared up the stairs.
“Irfan, do you have any Bengali friends who are gay?” Mom asked casually.
Irfan choked on a piece of shrimp, but a few thwacks to his back took care of that.
I had invited Sara and Irfan over for dinner, but I didn’t expect it to turn into yet another Bengali Inquisition.
“Yes, Aunty, a couple of my friends are gay,” he said when he could speak again.
“How are their parents dealing with it? Are they understanding everything?”
“I’m not sure, but I can ask them.”
I felt sorry for Irfan, but it was like watching a car crash. I couldn’t look away.
“We were trying to read about it, but it is very confusing. All the different labels and orientations. I only knew about gays and lesbians. Now I find out that there are more. And all have their own letter. How am I supposed to remember them all?”
I was so thankful that there was no one around right now who would take offense. I knew she was trying, but clearly we couldn’t take her out in public yet. And certainly not to Seattle Pride.
“Mom, I can explain everything later.”
It was at times like these that I missed Ariana the most. And although I was deliriously happy that we were back together, I knew it would take time for her to feel comfortable around my parents again. Right now, I wanted nothing more than to laugh with her at the ridiculous situation I found myself in. She would have had so much fun with this.
After Irfan and Sara left, I sat down with Mom to answer more of her questions.
“So, Q is for queer or questi
oning?” she mused after I had explained what all the letters stood for. “Your cousin, Basheer, I think he is questioning. He’s not getting married and he’s not interested in anyone.” She nodded, looking very satisfied with this analysis of her nephew.
“Rukhsana, if I knew about any other Bengali lesbians, then it would be easy to find a nice girl for you. But don’t you worry, we will find someone.” I wasn’t worried, but she seemed happy so I kept quiet.
“I will ask Meena,” she continued. “She always knows the latest gossip. If there are any lesbians to be found in our community, she will find them.”
Not that I was looking, but sure, why not?
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Mom had gone from forcing me to marry a good Bengali boy to being my wing woman in search of the perfect Bengali lesbian. If she was going to embrace her daughter’s lesbian side, then she would darn well make sure to find the best lesbian match Seattle’s Bengali community had to offer.
“Mom, you don’t have to find anyone for me. I’m quite happy right now. I have a lot to study, so I don’t have time for a relationship now anyway.” I wasn’t ready to talk to her about Ariana yet. But I knew I would have to, sooner or later.
“That’s true, you are very busy now, but don’t worry. You don’t have to do anything. Meena and I will take care of everything.” Clearly, she was hearing what she wanted to.
I left her poring over statistics of LGBTQ South Asian teens. I had to admit, she had made quite an impressive turnaround.
I still wanted to ask her about Nani’s diary, but there never seemed to be a good moment for it.
I found myself flipping to the page where I had stopped last time. I needed to know what happened as my mom got older.
Today Zubaida turned fifteen. When she looks at me I see nothing but hatred and shame in her eyes. I have failed to protect her from her father’s evil. I have spoken to mother-in-law about it but of course she does not believe me. She thinks I am lying because Arif is threatening to take a younger girl as his wife. I told her I am praying to Allah that he will take another wife. Then he will not touch my Zuby. Every time I try to stop him he pushes me to the ground and kicks me until I am unconscious. And then he goes into her room. When I am conscious again I hear her muffled screams. She is not fighting him any longer, but I know she is dying inside. I have tried to find Raju again. I have gone to the market several times looking for him, but he is not there.