Counting Down with You(70)

“You have no respect,” my mom says, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No respect for Allah or for us. That’s why you’re acting like this. No one else’s daughter behaves the way you do. I thought we raised you better.”

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six—

“Say something, Myra,” Ma says. “Don’t just sit there silently. Why would you go bowling with this boy? And why would you take Samir with you? You know he should be focusing on his robotic competition next week, but you’re distracting him. You can’t even focus on your own grades, and now you’re dragging your brother down with you? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

“Sorry,” I croak. I don’t know how to make this better. I don’t know what to say. I hate disappointing them. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough, Myra,” Baba says, his gaze heavy. “This boy is a bad influence on you. Staying out late...dragging your brother into your foolish acts...prioritizing English over your more important subjects. It’s a shame.”

“I’m sorry,” I say again, not knowing how else to fix this. My mind blanks out as they continue to berate me, berate my actions, berate all I’ve done in the past. I keep repeating a different variation of my apology, but it doesn’t seem to do the trick.

Twenty minutes later, my dad puts an end to the conversation. “We will discuss this further upon our return, Myra. You will stop tutoring this boy at once. If there’s a problem, we will speak to your teacher ourselves.”

“And I better not hear anything else about you hanging out with him, much less dragging Samir with you,” my mom says. “Now go to sleep. You’ll have to get up early to make up for the studying time you lost today.”

“Of course,” I say quietly. “Good night, Ma. Good night, Baba.”

“Good night, Myra. Remember what we told you.”

Like I could forget.

They hang up, and I set my phone down. It takes two seconds for tears to slip free from my eyes, and I start sobbing, burying my face in my hands.

Nothing I ever do is enough.

My door cracks open and Dadu comes inside, sitting on my bed and wrapping her arms around me. “I’m sorry, my dear,” she whispers, holding me tightly. “I wish they weren’t so hard on you.”

I can’t manage a reply, my cries muffled against her shoulder.

“It’s not your fault, Myra,” she says, stroking my hair. “I’ll talk to your dad when they get back. I know you’re just trying to help Alistair. If I thought he was a bad influence, I wouldn’t have let you go with him today, but he’s very sweet and he’s a good friend to you.”

“Dadu, I—I don’t know what to do,” I say, nearly choking on the words. “I don’t know how to do this anymore. I can’t—I’m not the daughter they want. I’m never going to be.”

“Oh, my darling,” Dadu murmurs, holding me even closer. There’s a pained expression on her face. “Don’t ever think that. You’re perfect as you are.”

“Not to them,” I say and burst into another round of tears. Dadu murmurs comforting words against my hair and keeps holding me until my sobs subside.

“Myra,” Dadu says, using her saree to wipe the remaining tears off my face. “No matter what, I want you to know I’m proud of you. You are enough. You are more than enough.”

However, she looks even more pained than before and it makes my own chest hurt. “Are you upset with me, too?”

“No,” Dadu says quickly, her expression fierce, but it subsides into something more melancholy. “I just wish I wasn’t failing you. Failing our family.”

“What? You could never,” I say, roughly scrubbing my face. “This isn’t your fault.”

Dadu’s mouth twists and she looks away. “Your Dada would be so sad to see this current state of affairs. All of you are going through so much, and there’s nothing I can do.”

“Dadu, it’s not your fault,” I say more firmly. She’s been my rock through this whole thing. I throw my arms around her and hug her tightly to get my point further across. My heart still throbs like an aching bruise, but this is more important. “I love you. Thank you.”

She kisses the side of my head, but her voice is somber when she says, “I love you, too.”



33


T-MINUS 14 DAYS

When I wake up at noon, I have multiple texts from Ace. Instead of reading them, I get out of bed, make Wudu, and complete the Dhuhr prayer. Once I’m finished, I start a group FaceTime with Nandini and Cora.

Neither hesitates to pick up, even though Nandini has to slip into the bathroom of her cousin’s home and Cora has to duck into an alcove of the mall in order to hear me.

Cora takes one look at my face and says, “We’re coming over tomorrow.”

I laugh weakly, throwing my head back against my pillow. “Please do.”

“Are you okay?” Nandini asks, voice low with concern.

I shake my head and swipe hastily at my eyes when tears begin to spill. I tell them everything my parents said the night before, and by the time I’m done, I feel lighter. Like a weight has lifted off my chest.

I’m so grateful to my friends for listening.