Written in the Stars (16 page)

“Did you hear me?” I whisper. “I’m pregnant.”

“Do you think that changes anything for me?”

“I would understand if it did.”

His hands cradle my face. I look into his eyes, the brown eyes I’ve loved for so long. “Do you want to leave with me? Do you want to put this all behind you?”

“Yes.”

He leans down and kisses me again. “I love you, Naila. This changes nothing.”

I feel light-headed, shaky. As though I’m slowly waking from a dream. Just maybe, this time will be different. Just maybe, I can be free.

After all the times I tried and failed, can I finally put this nightmare behind me?

T
he tiles feel cool on my bare feet. I slip on my sandals and stand outside on the balcony. Back home in Florida, reliable air-conditioning and heating systems made the weather not as big of a deal as it is here. Here, in Pakistan, under the sweltering sun and with the constant blackouts that leave homes and stores without electricity for hours, the weather plays a real role in my life. It is closely felt. I feel today’s cool breeze against my face and am grateful in one breath for the change and, in the next, realize sharply that I’ve now lived in Pakistan long enough to see the weather begin to change. Soon a season will pass me by.

But at least now I know it will be my last season here.

I sit back and remember my encounter with Saif just two days ago. He told me how Carla has been beside herself with grief, urging Saif to join her in circulating a petition to bring me back. I laughed, a tear escaping as I thought of her. It seemed impossible to believe I could ever go back to a life like that.

“You know I’m different now, Saif,” I told him. “I might not be the person you remember. Maybe when we get back, you’ll see we’ve grown apart.”

“If we’ve grown apart, we’ll find our way back to each other. Trust me. We will,” he replied.

We talked until I realized hours had passed. I leapt up. “I have to go back in! They could be up any minute.”

“What do you mean?” He looked at me, astonished. “Let’s go. Let’s go now. My uncle can come as soon as tomorrow morning to take us to the embassy.”

“I can’t leave now. It’ll be time for morning prayers soon. People will be up and about. They’ll see us. Look at me, I’m not even wearing a chador.”

“But we’re not far, just a thirty-minute walk from where I’m staying.”

“Saif,” I gently told him, “I can’t just go stay at some stranger’s house with you and wait for your uncle to come.”

“Why not? It’ll just be for a little bit. We can pay him a little more for his silence. There’s nothing a little money can’t help.”

“I doubt money will make them feel better about harboring me. Once I go missing, everyone in a twenty-five-mile radius will be looking for me, including my uncle. And no amount of money will be worth crossing him.”

Just then, a thought occurred to me. “How about Friday? We’re invited to a dinner party. I’ll get out of it. I’ll pretend to be sick, and when they leave, I will leave too. By the time they realize what happened, we’ll be far away from here. Then we can go. Besides,” I reminded him, “Friday gives me time to get the gold jewelry my parents gave me for the wedding from where it’s stored.”

And write a letter to Amin,
I thought, so he could read it one day and perhaps understand what happened. It would feel wrong, leaving without explaining to him what happened.

* * *

I make my way downstairs and into the kitchen. I take in the eggshell walls and wide cabinets. Soon this will just be a part of my memories. Soon I will be free.

I pull out a tea bag from a small glass jar as the teakettle slowly steams on the stovetop. As I pull out a ceramic teacup, I hear the sound of a child’s cries down the hallway.

I walk to Feiza’s room and knock on her door. She opens it, her hair unkempt, her eyes bloodshot.

“What is it, Feiza? What’s the matter?”

“It’s Zaina.” She ushers me inside.

Zaina lies in the center of the bed, wrapped in a blue blanket. Her face is red and warm, her eyes tightly closed.

“I don’t know what to do.” Feiza wrings her hands. She presses a wet towel to Zaina’s forehead. “She was fine yesterday, a little quieter than usual, but this morning when I went to check on her, she was shivering, and this rash, it seems to be spreading. I don’t know what happened.”

“What’s the matter?”

It’s Saba. She wears a blue ruffled outfit and stands at the edge of the bed. Yawning, she rubs sleep from her eyes.

“I’ve been hearing noises from this room all night,” she says. “I could barely close my eyes before she started crying again.”

The teapot begins whistling in the distance. “Let me turn that off. I’ll be right back.” I hurry to the kitchen.

I turn off the stove and place the teapot on a cool burner when I hear Saba’s voice behind me. “I need you to do something. Zaina just threw up. Feiza is going to clean it up, and I’ll make something to help with the vomiting, but we need to get the fever down. Go to the pharmacy. It’s near the small bookstore I took you to the other day. Get her the children’s Tylenol. I heard a while ago they had a large order of it in. It’s expensive, but nothing else is working.”

* * *

I clench the money in my hand and walk up to the pharmacy counter, relieved no one else is ahead of me in line. The pharmacist shuffles over to me and nods when I ask for the Tylenol. He’s an elderly man with a stooped back who also sells prayer rugs and rosary beads in the adjacent store. Bringing me the medicine I need, he wordlessly slides it across the counter. Counting out the money, I hand it to him before stepping outside.

I look around at the street. A handful of people mill about. Just then, I notice the tonga vala with his dark beard and spiraling mustache. He’s reclined in his cart. His eyes are closed. His horse, too, looks asleep. Twenty minutes. That’s how long it took me to walk here. I count out my change. Zaina needs the medicine as soon as possible. The tonga will cut the time in half.

I walk up to him, but before I can even speak, his eyes spring open and he looks down at me. He nods as I climb into the back of his wooden cart.

The brown horse clips against the brown road, kicking up dust as it trots. I watch small children, barefoot with toothy grins, chasing the tonga as it slowly picks up speed. Sometimes the older ones manage to jump on, grasping the edge for a little while before leaping off. I wonder where I’ll be when the youngest ones chasing the cart now are old enough to leap onto this cart.

Suddenly the tonga jerks to the left. I slide to the edge of the cart. Straightening up, I turn to see that someone has jumped into the cart. Not a child, though—this is a grown person. I gasp. It’s Saif.

“Array!” The tonga vala brings his horse to an abrupt stop and glares at Saif. “What do you think you are doing?”

“Maaf kijiye,” apologizes Saif. He reaches into his kamiz and pulls out his wallet, handing him a thick wad of bills.

“Where are you going?” His indignant expression changes to one of confusion as he counts the money in his hands.

“Just a few more paces,” says Saif. “I’ll jump off when I reach where I need to go.”

The man looks at the money and then at me hesitantly. “It’s okay?” he asks.

I stare at Saif, and then the anxious tonga vala. I nod. The man, visibly relieved, turns around, stuffing the money into his pocket. The horse resumes its steady trot. Familiar homes pass along the way. Saif looks out the other side of the carriage.

“Naila, I need to see you tonight. We need to talk.”

Children play soccer in the street. They scatter as the tonga approaches. Barefoot toddlers stare at us. An elderly lady with a hunched back walks slowly out of her house, leaning on a cane.

I feel sick.

“You have no idea the risk you are putting me in,” I say through clenched teeth. “This isn’t like back home. We can’t just sit here together without people noticing.”

“It can’t wait until Friday. Please meet me outside tonight.”

“Okay.” I keep my eyes fixed away, looking out at the homes passing by. I hear a thud. The tonga is suddenly lighter. Saif is quickly out of sight.

* * *

“Good,” Nasim says when I enter the bedroom. She takes the medicine from me. Feiza lifts Zaina up from the bed, and Nasim gives her the medication.

“Give it thirty minutes,” she tells Feiza once Zaina is lying back down. “The fever will break. All little ones get sick—she’ll be just fine.”

“Thank you so much.” Feiza hugs me once Nasim leaves. “She’s never gotten sick like this before. I completely panicked.”

“I know it’s scary, but she’s going to be okay.” I gently squeeze her arm.

She sits next to me at the edge of the bed. We watch Zaina sleeping, her cheeks flushed, her breathing pronounced.

“How are you doing?” Feiza asks softly. “Adjusting better? You seem distracted lately. Getting homesick again?”

I look down at my lap. “I’m fine,” I tell her.

“I know how it is. Missing your family. I think I need to visit my parents soon. Spend a few weeks with them,” Feiza says. “I’m so tired lately, and I just found out Usman isn’t coming back for at least another month.”

“You should go visit them. You haven’t seen them since I’ve been here. I’m sure they are missing you and Zaina.”

“I know. And they’re just an hour away by car.” She smiles at me. “It gets easier with time, but no matter how long you are married, you always miss your parents.”

I drape an arm around her shoulder and give her a hug. But I don’t say anything. I don’t trust what I might say.

* * *

I lie in bed that night, waiting. I hear footsteps, and then slowly the house sinks into silence. Standing up, I slip outside and make my way to the kitchen. I undo the lock. My heart pounds in my chest; the emotions, carefully pent up all day, now threaten to suffocate me completely, and my armor comes undone.

“I can’t believe you,” I tell him as soon as I see him. “Do you know what a huge risk you took? Us being seen together?”

“I know. I’m sorry. But it couldn’t wait.” He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s just that, since yesterday, people have started acting strange around us. Or, well, more strange. They’ve been watching us from the start, but it used to be friendly, curious looks. Now they’re asking questions. I’m used to it,” he hurriedly assures me. “But today, my dad got stopped by three people, and they had a lot of questions about why we were here and a lot of questions about me.” He grinds his foot into the dirt. “And the numberdaar, we’re paying him generously, but today he asked us when we’re leaving. I’m sure he will let us stay longer if we pay him enough, but we need to go. My dad is really worried. He’s trying to reach my uncle so we can leave as soon as possible.”

“When?”

“We’re not sure about the exact timing yet, but sometime tomorrow for sure, hopefully first thing in the morning. As soon as my dad reaches my uncle, we’ll know better, but that’s why I came. You need to come with me now so we can be ready to leave as soon as he arrives.”

“Hopefully tomorrow morning?” I repeat. “Saif, once I’m missing, the first person Nasim will call is my uncle, and then there’s no way of getting out peacefully.” I take his hand and hold it in mine. “The people hosting you might be nice, they might really need the money, but trust me, no one will want to harbor us once they know who is looking for them. I’m so sorry you’re getting harassed, and your poor father, I can’t ever thank him enough for doing all this for me, but leaving now only makes things worse. It’s worth it to wait one extra day so we can leave and stay gone. I can’t get caught again, Saif. I can’t.”

“Okay.” He sighs. “I’ll talk to my dad. He won’t be happy, but we’ll stick to the plan. Friday after the sun sets.”

I hug him. “I wish it could be different, but there’s no other way. Not if we can’t leave immediately. Just stay indoors. Don’t step out of the house until it’s time to leave.” I kiss him. “Friday will be here before you know it.”

D
inner consists of chicken pulao and minced meat shami kebobs. I love these dishes, but today I can’t even pretend to eat. I place the dirty dishes in the sink and turn on the water. Tomorrow night, Amin will be back. I will see him, pretend all is well, and then I will be gone. It’s what I want. It’s what I deserve. And yet, now that it’s almost here, I feel a little nauseous.

As I dry one of the plates with a towel, I’m startled to see Saba standing at the edge of the counter, watching me. She smiles at me widely, like the Cheshire cat.

My heart skips a beat. I pick up another plate, rinsing it under the water. Her eyes bore into me.
What did I do now?
I wonder. Dinner went smoothly
. Did I behave rudely without realizing?
If I did, Saba will certainly let me know. I brace for the evaluation, but Saba simply stares at me in silence.

“Is everything okay, Saba?” I finally ask.

“I just had a question. Did you have trouble finding the pharmacy yesterday?”

“No, I had no trouble finding it. Was I gone too long?”

“No trouble at all?” Saba moves closer. “I heard you had trouble finding the place.”

“You heard?”

“Yes. I heard.” Her smile grows, spreading across her face. Her eyes dance. “Then I heard you got quite lucky and met someone who showed you how to get there.”

“Saba, I never got lost, so that never happened. Nobody showed me how to get there. I went to the pharmacy by myself.”

“Well, it’s what I heard.”

“I’ve gone to the pharmacy before, so I remembered exactly where it was. I guess whoever told you I was lost was misinformed.” I’m moving away from her when I feel a tight grip on my elbow.

Standing inches from me, she leans in. Her previously amused expression is now replaced with one of contempt. “Let’s clear something up. I am not as stupid as you might think.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“Then stop the act.”

What does she think she knows? I push out a moment of panic. Does she know about the pregnancy? Because I didn’t eat dinner? Stay calm, I tell myself. This is the same girl who accused me of stealing money from Nasim’s bedroom several weeks earlier. I’m growing tired of the constant snide remarks. Why can’t she let me be? I’m not going to let her intimidate me anymore. Gripping the sink, I force myself to meet her gaze. “What is it that you understand? I’d love to clear up any misunderstanding that seems to have you so upset with me.”

“That’s the thing. There is no misunderstanding, and if you think I will keep it to myself, you are very mistaken.”

Before I can respond, Saba simply walks away.

“Naila.”

I look over. It’s Feiza. Her face is pallid.

“What’s wrong?”

She puts a finger over her mouth and motions me toward her bedroom.

I follow her inside and watch her press her ear against the closed door before she grips the lock and fastens it.

“We need to talk,” she whispers. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?” My stomach sinks. I don’t need to ask. I see her expression. I know.

“I’m just going to say it. I’m not going to run around it.” She takes a breath. “Saba came to me a little bit ago. She wanted me to go with her to talk to Nasim. She says you are having an affair. She says she saw you with a man.”

I move to speak, but nothing comes out.

“I know, Naila—I’m sure it’s just Saba being Saba,” she says. “You know her, always causing trouble. When do you have time to do anything of any sort? It’s the new man she’s talking about, I think. The one who’s been in town. We saw him at the market, remember? He’s wandering about, doesn’t talk to anyone. Sometimes he’s with another man, an older one, but no one has ever seen them before. People are always trying to find some new story to spin. I just don’t understand why she would spin you into it. She doesn’t realize that your reputation is now tied with ours—Naila? Are you okay?”

My breath is coming out in gasps. My shoulders tremble.

“Naila,” she exclaims, “it’s not true, right? She’s lying, right?”

“I don’t know what to tell you. Whatever I say, no one will believe me.”

“I will believe you. Just tell me it’s not true. Tell me what’s happening. A lot is at stake.”

I squeeze my hands together tightly until my knuckles are white.

“Whether what Saba is saying is true or people just believe it to be true, there really is no difference. It won’t be good,” Feiza says urgently. “Why would she say such a thing?”

“‘Won’t be good’? Nothing has been good for as long as I can remember now.” I rub my temples as Feiza stares at me in disbelief. “Feiza, I’m going to tell you what is really happening. It seems I no longer have a choice.”

With a trembling voice, I tell her everything. About Saif. About my marriage.

Feiza presses a hand against her mouth. “I should have known. We all took it as a cultural thing, the way you just seemed so strange when you first moved here. We thought it was about you being from America, maybe you were homesick or maybe you didn’t like us. But I should have figured it out. I should have known something like this had happened.”

“You had no way of knowing. None of you had any idea. I realized that soon. How could you know why I was sad?”

“Sad.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “Life is full of sadness. It’s part of being a woman. Our lives are lived for the sake of others. Our happiness is never factored in. Do I want this life? Living here and seeing my husband a few times a year, raising my daughter alone? I don’t know what it was like for you in America, but this is how life is. This is reality. But this advice is coming too late. It’s meaningless now.”

“I just need until tomorrow evening,” I tell her. “Can’t I figure out a way to get her to stay quiet for just that long?”

“Gossip spreads faster than kerosene fire,” Feiza says. “If she doesn’t say it, who knows who else might.”

“But I have no place to go.” A tear slips down my cheek. “Maybe I should just tell Amin. He gets in first thing tomorrow.”

“Tell him?” Feiza says. “And then what?” There’s an edge to her voice I have never heard before. “You think he’ll press a hand on your head and give you his blessings? You’re not his child, Naila. You’re not some distant cousin. You’re his wife. You think you’re going to tell him and he’s going to help you pack your things? You honestly think he’ll help you? You have no idea what might happen.”

I stare at her. I remember the conversation from three months ago. When he learned the nature of our marriage. When he asked me if I wanted to leave. When he said it was too late.

“If Saba knows,” Feiza says, “then soon everyone in this house will know. And Nasim, she’s going to call your uncle. Amin might stop her if he can. But you know her. And you know your uncle. You’re not safe here anymore.” She stands up. “I don’t know what to say. I wish I could help you. But I should go. I have to be careful too. If I’m seen talking to you, when Nasim realizes I knew and said nothing . . .” Her eyes glisten. She wordlessly walks out of the room.