by Puja Guha
See, everything is fine, she headed to the living room to greet him with a long kiss.
There’s nothing to worry about.
Austin, USA – May, 2016
Tareq watched Mariam with binoculars through the picture window that faced out onto her backyard; he’d been able to rent the house directly behind hers through an rental service called AirBnb. He could never have fathomed such a service, but the younger woman at his work who had told him about social media had mentioned it when he informed his office that he would be taking his first vacation.
“Where are you going?” she had asked. When he had answered Austin, she had started to gush about an apartment that she had stayed at through the same service, how it had been in the perfect neighborhood, and offered something so charming at a rate cheaper than a hotel.
He had disregarded it initially, and booked his stay at the Hyatt down the street from Mariam’s home. Every time he tried to get close to her house though, he found his efforts thwarted—first by a couple speeding by on one of the newfangled scooters that appeared to be everywhere, then by several pedestrians. Each encounter had amplified his frustration and finally, he’d figured it couldn’t hurt to check what the site had to offer. What he had discovered was a treasure trove of places to stay, right in her neighborhood. After much contemplation, he had chosen the place that seemed the closest, despite the fact that it had been booked for another two nights.
Since his arrival a few hours earlier, he couldn’t be more pleased—he had lucked out more than he could have possibly imagined. This studio was far superior to the Hyatt, he now had a self-contained unit with a fence line that adjoined Mariam’s backyard. He also had a direct line of sight into Mariam’s patio windows, including both her dining room and, most importantly, her bedroom.
The minutes flew by as he watched her, first cooking in the kitchen, and then as she disappeared into her bedroom. Tareq broke into a smile, perhaps he would get to see her change her clothes. The prospect of touching her again was imminent and becoming all the more visceral.
Soon, but not soon enough, he imagined his right hand grazing her leg, while the other slid down her torso.
He straightened up as she disappeared from view; good as his viewpoint was, he didn’t have a line of sight into her walk-in closet. He cursed under his breath. Now that she was so close, the idea that he had to wait to approach her seemed ludicrous, what on earth was he waiting for? She was alone, right there in front of him, awaiting his arrival.
Tareq set down his binoculars and stood, almost in a trance as he contemplated knocking on Mariam’s door. He could have waited for her to come home instead of hightailing it when he had. She would pretend that she wasn’t happy to see him, that she was frightened and uneasy, but he knew better—deep in his core, in his soul, he knew how much she wanted him. He kept his gaze on the bedroom window as he slid the knife that he’d purchased two days earlier into the back of his waistband; Mariam might be happy to see him, but he couldn’t say the same for the impostor that she was living with. Tareq’s eyes narrowed as he thought of Raj, the man who had taken his place in Mariam’s arms and in her bed.
I will make sure that you pay.
He was on his way out when he caught movement in Mariam’s dining room as she walked out of the bedroom. On the far side of the room, Raj walked in, followed by her greeting him with an extended kiss. A few minutes later the window blinds in the bedroom came down sharply, blocking his view. Tareq’s imagination started to run wild; more than anything he didn’t want to visualize what they were doing, but he was drawn to it, unable to look away from the closed blinds as if he were passing a major car wreck. His breathing sped up and his jaw set, they were within his reach, but he was frozen—he didn’t dare confront them, he couldn’t stand to see what had to be taking place. When he revealed himself, he needed to be sure that Raj had no escape, no way of manipulating Mariam to do his bidding as he had for so many years. He wanted his first encounter with Mariam to be alone so that she could fall into his arms the way that she used to, so that he could have what had been denied to him all of these years. Tareq dropped the binoculars, they hit the ground with a resounding crack, and he clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white.
That man is never going to touch her again.
Salmiya, Kuwait – September, 1990
Raj made it back to his room somehow, operating in a daze. Everything made so much sense now—he’d been surprised that neither Mariam nor Dinah understood more than a few words of Hindi, and now realized that he’d never heard them speaking any language other than English amongst themselves. That had been why Janhvi asked specifically to keep the soldiers away. The truth had been in front of him the whole time, but he hadn’t seen it.
They’re Kuwaiti.
That was why they’d kept to themselves so much, why they had limited all of their interactions with others at the camp. Deep down he felt a twinge of validation, Mariam had kept her distance from him for a reason: to protect her identity, not merely to keep him at arm’s length. He sighed, wishing that that validation didn’t feel like such a relief.
You should be thinking about your wife. At this point though, he was almost resigned to it, he wondered if he would ever see Ritika again. He just wished that he knew what had happened to her, that her disappearance wasn’t a question that continued to hover over him.
He had nearly dozed off when he heard something outside and sat up abruptly. “Is someone there?” He heard another noise, but no response to his question, so he got out of bed and opened the door.
Down the hallway, he saw a figure that looked like Mariam moving quickly away. There was a note wedged into the hinges and he opened it to read, “Thank you for the vitamins.”
Raj hesitated, he wanted to follow her, felt compelled to do so, but he was debating whether to tell her that he knew her secret. She had kept it to herself for obvious reasons, and it seemed unwise to rock the boat. At the very least though, he did want to speak to her.
“Mariam,” he called out, trying not to raise his voice. Most of the camp would be sleeping at this hour, and he didn’t want to disturb anyone. She turned around with a sheepish look, then walked back toward him.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said when she reached him.
“I wasn’t asleep.”
“Thank you for the vitamins. I actually was almost out of them, so it’s really helpful.”
“I’m glad.” Raj paused, “I’m sorry I put you on the spot earlier. I guess you were keeping your pregnancy quiet for a reason.” He determined not to bring up her other secret.
“I don’t know,” she answered with a shrug.
“Your husband—do you know where he is?” As soon as the words had left his mouth, Raj kicked himself, why had he asked her that? The answer was none of his business, but he couldn’t deny that he wanted to know.
Mariam made eye contact with him for a second then looked down at the ground. “He died,” she finally whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
After what seemed like another prolonged silence, she said, “Thank you.”
Something in her tone sounded off, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. She didn’t seem sad, she almost sounded angry. Raj disregarded it, he had to be imagining things.
“It all feels like a long time ago,” she continued, “even though it hasn’t even been a couple of months. Sometimes I feel as if my life is a nightmare, and I’m supposed to wake up.”
Her tone was wistful now, and he reached out and grabbed her hand, he couldn’t help himself. “I feel the same way,” he said in a quiet voice. “All the time, in fact.”
She met his gaze and held it this time, without removing her hand from his grasp, “Did you lose someone?” After a second’s pause, she added the word, “Too?”
“I did.” A moment later he had told her everything before he even realized it—he shared how Ritika had disappeared, how they had only been married for a week,
how he had barely known her before they got married. “I’ve searched for her so many times,” he said once he was done. “I can’t find her, and I don’t even really miss her. What kind of a man does that make me?” Mariam took a deep breath, and he could tell he had said too much. “I shouldn’t have told you all this, I didn’t mean to burden you.”
“It’s okay, I just wish there was something I could do. Something any of us could do.” She sighed, “All I can say is that you’re not a bad man. You’ve taken care of everyone here, you even got me those vitamins. I don’t think you should beat yourself up for… for being distracted from your wife… with everything that’s going on here.” She extracted her hand from his grip. “Good night, Raj.”
Mariam gave him a small smile before returning to her room. Raj stared after her for a long moment before finally turning in for the night.
Salmiya, Kuwait – October, 1990
Janhvi saw Raj at the end of the hallway and sped up to catch him before he reached the dining area. She grabbed his arm and whispered, “I need your help.”
“What—”
“Not here.” She guided him away from the main hallway, turned the corner and stopped once they reached the path that ran between the school’s main building and the exterior wall. Few people went there, especially during the afternoon heat.
Raj squinted at her and stepped as close to the wall as possible to take shelter from the sun, “What’s going on?”
“I know you know. You must know—I saw you talking the other night. I can’t keep this secret anymore.”
“I must know what?”
“Do I need to spell it out for you? You know about them—about Mariam and Dinah.”
Raj’s expression changed slowly, but she could tell he was trying to play dumb as he said, “Mariam and Dinah? What about them?”
What if he doesn’t know? Maybe I should let it lie?
For a brief moment, she hesitated, but the weight of the secret was crushing her. She had to find an ally and he was her best bet. “You know who they are.”
After a few seconds of silence, Raj opened his mouth, “I do, but I’m not going to say anything.”
Janhvi waved her right hand to dismiss his statement, “I know you’re not going to say anything—you only seem to want to make puppy eyes at Mariam. That’s not what I’m worried about—I think other people are starting to suspect.”
“How?”
“Well, it was only a matter of time—Mariam only speaks a few words of Hindi and neither of them speak any other Indian language. They don’t really socialize, so that helps, but I think the family on the other side of the curtain, the ones that we share a room with, might have figured it out.”
“Did they say something?” Raj’s tone betrayed the extent of his fears.
“They’ve been asking a lot of questions over the last two or three days. I told them the story that we came up with, that Dinah’s a Kashmiri married to a Palestinian businessman who was away on a work trip when the invasion started, and that Mariam’s lived her whole life in Kuwait, so she didn’t really learn Hindi. Please, Raj. If you don’t do something, I don’t know—” Janhvi’s voice faltered and she gave him a beseeching look.
“I’ll talk to them. It’s going to be okay.”
Salmiya, Kuwait – October, 1990
Raj waited until the evening to approach the family that shared an enclosure with Dinah, Mariam, and Janhvi. He knocked on the door to the family’s side of the classroom and waited anxiously for one of them to answer, rehearsing his questions in his head.
“Hello Raj,” the father, Ashok, opened the door.
“How are you, Uncle?” Raj greeted him in Hindi, using the title as a sign of respect for his age.
“I’m fine.”
After a few pleasantries, Raj broached the subject. “I wanted to come around and check that everything is okay. Is your room all right?”
Ashok shifted his weight from one foot to the other, “Yes, beta, everything is fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Well,” Ashok glanced behind him and stepped outside, pulling the door shut. “It’s our neighbors—there’s something off about them.”
“What do you mean?” Raj kept his voice as level as possible, not wanting to sound overly concerned.
“Are you sure they’re Indian? Last week my daughter was taking a nap and she said that she heard them talking in Arabic, and since then I’ve been listening really closely—”
“And you heard them speaking in Arabic again?” Raj interrupted.
“No. They only speak in English, but their features…they don’t look Indian. I know the young girl—Mariam—is supposed to be half Palestinian, but her mother doesn’t look Indian either. My wife asked her when the last time they went back to India was and she said that it hasn’t been for years!”
Raj nodded, pretending to hear and share Ashok’s concern. “I’ll look into it, Uncle, I promise. Just don’t say anything to anyone else, okay? We wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea until we know for sure.”
Austin, USA – May, 2016
Mariam awoke with her head on Raj’s shoulder and his arm wrapped around her, holding her close. She craved a reality in which that protection didn’t feel necessary. She turned her head to plant a kiss on his neck and he shifted, pulling her back onto his chest. Mariam nestled back in with a bittersweet smile—in a way they’d never felt closer, now that she had told him the truth about her past with Tareq, but she had also noticed that Raj hesitated to touch her in the way that he used to. They hadn’t been intimate in the two months since her return from Washington, and she couldn’t help but be concerned. She had wanted to raise the issue during her therapy session the day before, but the session had been commandeered by her paranoia. She hadn’t told Raj about that, she didn’t want him to worry any more than he already was.
I have to stop being the victim.
Mariam extracted herself from Raj’s arms and gave him another kiss before she disappeared into the bathroom. She turned on the hot water in the shower and let it wash over her. Lowering herself to the shower floor, she curled into a ball.
It’s going to be okay, she said to herself, she had heard the phrase so many times. She even believed it, at least most of the time, but that morning such an eventuality felt more like a mirage. Try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was an even darker cloud looming over the horizon. Deep in her gut she had an inkling that something was tremendously wrong, that she shouldn’t just dismiss her paranoia offhand.
Mariam heard the bathroom door open and she froze, her heart almost stopping at the sound.
Please, no… please.
“Mariam?” Raj’s voice cut through the pattering of the water, “What’s wrong?” He opened the shower door and pulled her off of the floor, then put his arms around her. He was still wearing his boxers, but he stood with her as the water rained down on them and she sobbed into his chest. Every bit of optimism from her trip to D.C. was lost in that moment, the terror had taken hold. Someday she wouldn’t be a victim anymore, either in her own eyes or in Raj’s, but that day had never seemed farther away.
Austin, USA – May, 2016
Aliya stared at her feet, deeply disturbed by what her dad had just shared. They’d pushed her to go to therapy. She couldn’t understand how something that had made so much sense could have gone so awry. Only a few days ago, her world had been simple: she had been focused on school and her biweekly kickboxing classes, with the occasional family dilemma mixed in. The most difficult thing that she was dealing with was whether or not she wanted to go on a date with Nick, a guy she had met at school. They were friends, and he wanted more than that, but she remained unsure if she wanted a relationship. That question had faded far into the background with the revelation that not only was she adopted, but her biological father was the kind of scum she felt should be stamped out of the earth.
Although Aliya had recommended both of
her parents go to therapy, she had never been too concerned about what they were dealing with—after all, it had seemed only natural that they would need therapy after fleeing the Gulf War, but all of that had happened a long time ago. Her phone buzzed and she saw a text message from Nick asking if she wanted to get dinner that evening. She turned her phone over, not wanting to engage, unable to trust herself to decide on even something so minor.
She fought the urge to scream at the top of her lungs. On top of the news that her dad wasn’t her biological father, he had now shared his concerns about her mom.
“I don’t know what to do, she’s having some kind of episode. She won’t tell me what’s going on, but she’s jumping at everything. It’s like she thinks he’s coming back for her, as if he’s hiding around every corner, waiting to pounce on her.”
Aliya wished that she could help, but at the same time felt some gratitude for the fact that she had no idea how. Dealing with her own thoughts and emotions was already overwhelming, tackling her mom’s on top of that was nigh on impossible, a sure path to a nervous breakdown.
Hoping to distract herself, she went for a long run, noticing a black Nissan Rogue parked on the corner on her way back. She frowned, the neighborhood was small and parking was hard to come by, so she rarely saw new cars appear in the street. She shrugged it off.
Don’t you start jumping at straws now. Her emotions were still running on high, so she took a long shower, but the relaxation only lasted a short while before she felt on edge once again. She peered out her window and saw that the car was still there.
Frustrated, she decided to go with the flow, acting on impulse and reaching for her phone. “Can you bring over take out?” she replied to Nick, knowing full well the signal that she was sending. Her emotions were running too high to care, all she was looking for was some release. When he came over later that night, she saw that the car was gone, and felt better, but when he left three hours later, she noticed it again, in a different spot this time. She shook it off, glad that she would be leaving the next morning on her backpacking trip—she clearly needed a change of scenery, some distance to grapple with everything that was going on.