Amal Unbound(7)

“I did. Was hoping to make do longer with the tarp, but the wind last week tore it right off. Had to replace the whole roof.”

“Well, it looks nice. And it’s good it’s fixed, isn’t it?”

“It’s never good to borrow from the Khan family.” His jaw tightened as he rang up my order. “But sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to.”

Shaukat’s words lingered in my mind as I left the market. Just like he didn’t want to borrow money, I didn’t want to leave my mother when she still hadn’t recovered. But the longer I stayed home, the further I fell behind at school. I couldn’t keep this up much longer. Amma needed help. We had to do something.

“Amal!” my classmate Farah’s mother called out to me from a distance. She walked at a steady clip toward us.

“Mariam Auntie!” Rabia turned to me. “That starts with an M, right?”

“Good job!” I said. “Here.” I dropped change into her palm. “Go get some kulfis from the man over there.”

The girls hurried to the vendor as Mariam approached.

“Don’t you look pretty in that shalwar kamiz,” she said when she drew near. She reached out and smoothed the collar. “When I saw the floral pattern, I knew it would be perfect for you. Told your mother a little bit of lace would add some pop to it.”

“Thank you for sewing it,” I told her. “It fits me perfectly.”

“How is your mother?”

“Tired, but she’s doing okay.”

“A girl, I heard?” She shook her head.

I knew everyone wanted to have a son, but I was getting tired of hearing this. Wasn’t she once a little girl, too?

“Tell your mother I’ll come this afternoon to check in on her. She must have some hand-me-downs she needs fixed up for the baby.”

I thanked her before continuing on our way. I laughed when Safa smacked her lips on our way home. White syrup dripped down her chin onto her dress.

“You can’t do anything without making extra work for me, can you?” I said.

I handed the groceries to Parvin when I got home and grabbed a towel to wipe Safa’s face. My father sat at the table in the living room. He sorted through an assortment of papers scattered across the desk.

“Is everything okay?” I asked him. “You’re home early.”

“It will be,” he sighed. “Work is busier than usual, and your mother’s still in bed.”

“We should phone Raheela Bibi. She’ll know what to do.”

“It’s not something the midwife can cure.”

“Then maybe we can take her to the doctor?”

“What she needs is time. She’ll get better soon enough.”

“But the thing is”—I fidgeted—“I’ve missed a lot of school now, and exams are coming soon. I was hoping I could go back to school tomorrow.”

“Amal . . . Safa and Rabia need you.”

“Parvin could watch the girls until we came back.”

“Parvin has her own work to do, you know that. Your sisters aren’t her responsibility.”

“She won’t mind! She loves the girls—”

“Enough, Amal!”

The sharpness of his voice silenced me.

“I’m sorry, Amal. But this is how it has to be now. You’re the eldest daughter. Your place is here.”

I wanted to tell him it wasn’t my choice to be the eldest, but I held my tongue. Why did this random chance have to dictate so much of my destiny?

“In a week or so, we can see how things are going,” my father continued. “But in any case, remember, you have already learned a lot. More than many of the neighborhood girls. You can read and write. What more do you need to know?”

I always thought my parents knew me well. So how could he ask me that?

What more did I need to know?

The whole world, Abu, the whole world.





Chapter 8





When I walked into the kitchen the next morning, Seema was ironing. “Why aren’t you in your uniform?” I asked her. “You’re going to be late for school.”

“I’m staying.”

“Seema.”

“I got up early this morning to help with the laundry. You work the pile down and then it grows up again higher than before. The chores are endless. You need me.”

“Parvin and I will handle it. You have to go to school.”

“It’s not fair.” Seema’s eyes grew moist. “How can I go when you can’t?”

“It isn’t fair—but you can’t fall behind since you only just began. I want you to go.”

Seema’s eyes watered, but she slipped on her uniform. After she left, I watched her from the window. Hafsa would meet up with her a few steps out of my view. They’d enter the brick schoolhouse and settle into their desks and learn things I didn’t know. I was the best student in my class, but soon Hafsa, and even Seema, would surpass me.

“The girls are still sleeping?” Parvin asked as she stepped inside and closed the back door behind her. I nodded.

“Good. We might actually get a head start on all the things we need to get done today. Omar will pick up cauliflower on his way home from school. We have enough potatoes, but I’ll double check . . . What’s wrong?”