Counting Down with You(113)

“It’s not that easy,” I say and dig the heels of my palms into my eyes before the tears can flow. “They’ll hate me, Dadu. They’ll never forgive me.”

“To hell with your parents,” she says, and it would be funny if I wasn’t on the brink of a mental breakdown. “I can’t believe after everything, your dad would—no. I guess I can. Ever since he married...” She takes a deep breath. “Regardless. Listen to me, you can’t let them make your decisions for you. It’s your life, not theirs. I believe in your future. Do you?”

I’m silent. I don’t know what to say in response.

“Myra? Is this really what you want?” she asks quietly.

I exhale shakily and lower my hands. “More than anything. Does it matter?”

Dadu makes a decision then. I see it in the set of her jaw and the fierce glint in her eyes. “Of course it does. Myra, if you want this, you have to fight for it. But that doesn’t mean you have to fight alone.”

I stare at her, trying to make sense of those words. “You think I should try again? But what if—what if I make things worse?”

“How can it get worse?” Dadu asks gently. “I know you’re scared, but you’ve always been so strong, and I know you can do anything you set your mind to.” Her eyes are filled with an understanding that I almost wish wasn’t there. It strikes a flame of hope in my heart that would be better left unlit.

Again, a voice in my head chants, Do it, do it, do it.

Dadu is right. How can it get worse? What more do my parents have to take from me?

I take a deep breath and nod. This is my last chance to be brave. I want to be a lionheart. “Okay. One more time. I want to try.”

“Then we’ll try,” Dadu says, squeezing my hand before leaving the room.

When she comes back, it’s with both my parents. She locks the door and gestures for them to sit on her bed.

“Go ahead, Myra,” she says, squeezing my shoulder in encouragement.

I clear my throat and meet my parents’ eyes. “I want to be an English major. I know we already talked about it before, but I—”

“This again?” Ma narrows her eyes. “Myra, we already told you no. How dare you bring this up again? And in front of your Dadu? Do you have no shame?”

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.

I am a spark. I am a blaze. I am an inferno.

I force myself to speak again. “Ma, I don’t want to be a doctor. Please, just listen—”

My mom looks at my dad, shaking her head. “I can’t believe how disrespectful—”

“Farah,” Dadu snaps.

The room goes silent, all of us staring at my grandma with wide eyes. I start counting down from ten right as Dadu unleashes hell.

“What is wrong with you two? Your daughter is so smart and so talented, and you turn her away when she’s honest with you? You shame her? Are you absolutely insane?”

Baba blinks in surprise, looking between his own mother and me. “Ammu, I don’t know what Myra told you—”

“Oh, don’t even start, Hussain,” she says, waving a finger in warning. “I’m so disappointed in you. You wanted Myra to be a doctor. She told you she doesn’t want to do it and that she wants to study English instead. Then you yelled at her for being a shame on our family. Is that right or wrong? Don’t even answer that. I already know the answer. I almost watched a repeat performance mere seconds ago.”

I wince at her brutal recap and the way my mom starts giving me the evil eye.

Still, I don’t cower away. I want this. I have to stand on my own two feet.

“Eyes over here, Farah,” Dadu says, noticing my mother’s gaze. “Your daughter is so respectful of both of you. You treat her as less than she is, and she never says a word. The one time she wants something, you kill her dreams? How dare you? Where is your shame? What would Allah say about this? You are supposed to love your children unconditionally. Your Abbu and I never treated you this way, Hussain, so why are you doing it to Myra? She’s done nothing to deserve the way both of you dismiss her passion and skills. If she wants to study English, what’s the problem? Is she killing someone? Is she robbing someone? Is she breaking a law? Where in the Quran does it say she has to be a doctor, that you two are so adamant about it?”

“Ammu, we’re only looking out for her,” Baba says, scratching the top of his head. He’s beginning to look contrite. My stomach starts doing cartwheels. Could this actually work?

“How is this looking out for her? She’s miserable. All this will do is make her resent you in the future, when she’s on a career path she doesn’t want. Then it won’t matter how much you shame her, because she’ll remember this. This moment when you ruined her life and didn’t care about her feelings. This is your daughter, Hussain. Not some kind of servant to do your bidding. She’s a real human being and she’s trying so hard to always do right by you. When will you do right by her?”

“English, though?” Ma’s expression is doubtful. “What kind of success will she have with that?”

“Stop thinking about her future success and start thinking about her future happiness,” Dadu says darkly. “And do not doubt your daughter. She is an incredibly hard worker. She will be amazing at whatever it is she chooses to do. But it’s her choice. You don’t get to make that decision for her, do you understand?”