Uzma Khan - Trespassing

With one hand, a nervous Dia fanned herself. Then she stopped abruptly, feeling guiltier than ever. Fanning is what the lovely breeze was meant to do.

Nini re-entered. Her dupatta was damp at one edge. Swiftly, she took in the seating change and cut Dia a peppery look.

But then she quickly composed herself. ‘Annam Aunty, you must have more.’ She lifted the tray again.

The sisters doubled over again.

Nini eyed them sternly, deftly making sure her dupatta, now pinned to her shoulders, had kept its place. It had. She scowled at her sisters.

Tasleem: ‘One more sound from you two and you can leave.’

At last, the young girls lowered their heads in shame.

Tasleem to Annam: ‘I thought it would be good for them to see how it is, you know, for when their time comes.’ She stared at them hard, adding, ‘But obviously that won’t be for a long, long time.’

They looked about to cry. Dia could have hugged them for diverting attention from her. Or rather, from the attention lavished on her from the center of the women’s attention.

Tasleem tried again. ‘Well, will you tell us what you missed most in the three years you were away? It must have been so hard at first.’

Please answer her. And then, before she knew what she was doing, Dia whispered it. ‘Please answer her.’

The boy looked her full in the face. His eyes were large, amber-hued, beautiful. The irises dilated.

Please.

He swiveled so his knees pointed toward the center of the room again. He smiled at Tasleem. ‘Well, I sure missed the food. This is all delicious.’

Instant rejuvenation. Annam practically leaped with joy. ‘His appetite is mahshallah very healthy. I was worried the first week. He wouldn’t eat a thing. But then,’ she sighed, ‘time takes care of everything.’

‘It must be so hard for a mother, not being able to cook for her son,’ Tasleem added. ‘How you must have worried about his diet when he left. But then, there, of course, everything is so fresh and wholesome. Most of our children gain weight.’ She then proceeded to relate all the stories of thriving Pakistani children in America. Wajiha’s son at Stanford. Munoo’s at MIT. Goldy’s somewhere in, where was it … Texas?

The only seat available for Nini was between Daanish and Annam. Dia rose to offer her the sofa seat.

‘Keep sitting,’ Nini snapped, deciding on the carpet beside her sisters. Dia sat down, shuddering: Nini sounded just like her mother.

‘I think it was Wajiha’s son who scored the highest on his SATs. He was in the first percentile!’

Annam: ‘What are SATs?’

Tasleem, laughing, ‘Oh come on now, surely you know! Daanish must have taken them too. And he must have done very well, isn’t that right, Daanish?’

Daanish: ‘I must have.’

Annam insisted, ‘What are SATs? Did the doctor know?’

‘Of course, Anu. No one gets into college without taking them.’

‘Then it’s a medical exam? Your blood tests were very healthy.’

Tasleem hollered. ‘That’s a good one!’

Nini smiled. Her sisters shifted, unsure if they could giggle.

Daanish put his plate down and his arm around Annam.

‘They are Math and English tests. I don’t know about Wajiha’s son but Anu’s scored fifteen-sixty.’

Annam looked pleased, though still confused.

Tasleem collected herself. ‘Of course! Have more cake.’

‘I’m full.’ He turned to Dia again.

No! Especially not now! You want them to kill me?

But this time the boy could not read her thoughts, and she was too terrified to voice them. He said, ‘Two of the cocoons even hatched, if that’s the right word. I saw the whole thing.’

Now Nini too was listening. Dia could tell by the way she held her head — the taut profile, the pursed lips. Perhaps she ought to stand up and excuse herself. Go to the bathroom and let Nini follow. Then she could explain she hadn’t done a thing. He was the one prattling on. Maybe Nini would find a way to sneak her out of the house, and the meeting could proceed the way it was meant to have from the beginning. No detours.

And then she realized what he’d said. ‘You saw it?’

‘I knew I could get a reaction out of you,’ he laughed. ‘Yes. Saturday morning. It was cool. First this thin dark liquid started oozing, disgustingly smelly. I had them in a drawer and the wood discolored, like the fluid was acid. But it seemed to soften the cocoons. Slowly, the moths ate their way out. I couldn’t believe it! They were cream-colored and spread their brittle wings, as if to dry.’

This time Dia was only vaguely aware of the fresh daggers plunging her throat. She was entranced. She’d never known anyone — not Nini, not Inam Gul, not even Sumbul — so intent on observing what most people considered trivial. The minor details, the small discoveries. These had always been hers alone to love. Others filed them away as distractions, nuisances. But for her, they were life. For him too? By the looks of it, yes. He was delighted, as if he’d gained simply by noticing. As if by sharing a fleeting moment with two, tiny unsung beasts, his world had opened.

And he was damn lucky. She’d spent years trying to see what he’d managed the first time, and she still hadn’t succeeded. Saturday morning — that would be around the same time she’d been watching the pair at the farm. And then Nini had called to invite her here, and she’d missed it. If Nini hadn’t called, she wouldn’t have missed it. If she hadn’t missed it, she wouldn’t be here, knowing what she knew of Daanish.

‘What time did they finally come out?’ she asked.

‘Just after ten. I checked my watch. And you know what else? The tips of their swollen abdomens locked together. They didn’t appreciate my watching.’

‘So did the ones at the farm!’

‘What?’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ she laughed. ‘I didn’t see it, anyway. But you did. Go on.’

‘They stayed that way for hours …’

She leaned forward. What a crazy thing to feel her heart race like this. Was it his smell? Crisp, delectable. Mannish. He was like a butterfly, sprung from Aphrodite’s girdle, and all the females were assembling around him.

‘More cake,’ insisted Tasleem.

Nini too stood up and Annam was saying something.

Even the sisters were prancing around, teacups in hand. They were helping Nini serve the tea, which she’d obviously got up to brew at some point. There was milk and sugar, and something fell.

But Dia and Daanish gazed at each other, alone in the joy of what he’d seen.

JULY 1992

Salaamat stood with them outside the cave.

Daanish rolled his jeans up to his knees, saying, ‘At low tide, we’d eat in there when I was a kid.’ The jeans were drenched and kept sliding down to his ankles.

Dia peered inside. ‘It’s claustrophobic.’

The water raced down the cave’s length, crashing into the far wall, submerging the smooth rock where, Daanish told Dia, Anu would spread their tea. ‘Years ago, I found a silvery shell here. An argonaut’s nest. Then my parents fought over a pearl necklace. Anu was always irritable whenever he got her anything expensive. Later, she’d cry to me: “The roof still leaks and the twelve-year-old car keeps breaking down, but he keeps throwing away any money we have left. Don’t count on an inheritance.” She meant: I’m counting on you.’ He sighed and took Dia’s hand.

They strolled along the shore, leaving Salaamat alone by the cave. He lit a cigarette, remembering the ad for it. Two men scaled a mountain, just like he and Fatah had done their last day together. He liked to imagine it was him in the red jacket and Fatah in the blue.