Chapter 9 Asma #4
And in the way a person can remember a stubbornly forgotten fact immediately upon ceasing to try and recall it, she knew what she needed to do.
The sharpness that came from absolute clarity and truthfulness was bracing.
She didn’t want to think about the horrible possibility that Ruby may not like girls, or the even more horrible possibility of how her family would view this transgression.
She was simply relieved to have a plan. She inhaled the crisp air and felt her stomach hurt, but it was okay.
She was breathless with a combination of relief and excitement.
Mamoo said softly, “My Ami and Abu would have loved you two.”
Asma was jarred out of her musing and glanced over at Salma. In that way they could communicate with nothing overt exchanged, they agreed to stay still as though Mamoo was a wild animal they had stumbled across in the woods and didn’t want to scare away.
“My mother was such a gentle, even-tempered woman. She wasn’t educated and yet supported my father’s belief in education and adopted his goals for me.
If I was being trained to be a good student, Sadia was in her own training program on how to be a good wife.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t interested in sewing or cooking or knowing how to interrogate the pot cleaner when he came calling to the house.
She was just interested in books and what could be felt through them. ”
Asma shook her head to clear it. The sister Mamoo spoke of bore no resemblance to the mother she knew.
“We lived in a formerly grand house that some British government official had lived in and that had been divided into four units post-Partition. We were fortunate to have one of the two units that opened up to the courtyard. Our side of the courtyard was teeming with climbing jasmine, a small lemon tree, and flowers. On most nights, we had dinner out there.” Mamoo closed his eyes and swayed with a barely visible movement.
“When I think of home, when I think of that time, it is always in that courtyard, fragrant, ensconced. After school, we gathered in there for snacks, chai, spicy pakoras, and jalebi sweet enough to make your teeth hurt. And Ami would say, ‘I want you to tell me one thing that happened today to make me feel like I was doing something more than just negotiating with the thief who sells me chicken.’”
It was as though Mamoo was bringing them midstream into a conversation he was having with himself.
“One day, Sadia said, ‘I want to play field hockey, but we have to wear skirts.’ Abu started saying how that was only a sport for the European girls, but Ami raised her voice over his and said, ‘Then you will play,’ like the matter was decided. Sadia wound up playing field hockey in a pair of salwar, modified so there wasn’t as much fabric bunched around the legs, and the uniform’s white shirt on top.
She wasn’t very good at the sport, but she loved it.
And the next year, she moved to the local Pakistani school where things like playing field hockey in a skirt would never be an issue.
The day I received my invitation from Oxford was the proudest and saddest day of my life.
My father was beside himself and kept reading out bits of the letter.
My mother couldn’t stop crying. And Sadia just stood there in the doorway, observing it all. ”
After Mamoo stopped, they sat in the hush.
It felt like they were intruding on his private space, even though they were in the wide, open air.
All these years and a whole lifetime later, Mamoo had such tender and vivid memories of his sister.
Asma felt slightly ashamed for how she was taking out her confusion and pain on Salma.
After a while, Mamoo slapped his thighs and said, “I don’t know about you lot, but my bum is frozen.”
On the way back to the car, Asma said, “So I think I’m going to head back to school this afternoon. I really need to study.”
Salma stopped in the middle of the path. “You just got here.”
“I know, but I’m so behind because of the play.” She reached out and took Salma’s hands in her own, begging her for understanding with her eyes. “How about you come to classes with me next week?”
Salma tilted her head and furrowed her brows at Asma.
Quickly, before Salma said something expressing skepticism about her motives, Asma said, “I’ll come next weekend. Promise.”
Now that she’d decided what she was going to do, Asma wanted to do it as fast as possible.
She felt silly that it had taken her so long to figure out something so simple.
She had agency. She had options. She considered driving straight to Ruby’s but thought it better to call from her dorm room.
She practiced what she’d say. Something about missing seeing her at practice and wanting to stay in touch.
The other feelings seemed too much to tackle right now.
Asma hurried across the quad. Every cell in her body eager and ready.
She dug through her backpack for her room keys and heard her name.
She turned. Sitting on the bench across from her dorm, arm draped on the back of the bench and long legs crossed at the ankle, sat Ruby.
With her big eyes and wide-dimple smile she said, “Hey, Asma.”