Love, Hate and Other Filters(55)

I let my phone drop to the floor and curl up under the duvet on my bed.

It’s warm outside, but I’m cold and numb. Even under the covers, I shiver. Sleep pulls at me. I’m fatigued to my bones, but I fight my heavy eyelids for one second more. Images from the day animate themselves, jumbling in my vision. The shrieks and sharp turns of a roller coaster. The slits of Brian’s eyes as he glowers over me. Phil punching Brian. Bright red drops of Brian’s blood falling to the pavement. The purple and black of my swelling arm. The barely there sensation of Phil’s fingertips on my leg. The dimple in his smiling cheek. Phil holding me in his arms, stroking my hair.



“Beta, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

My eyes flicker open to my mother’s face leaning over the bed. The curtains are drawn, and light streams into my room.

“Wh—what happened?” To my ears, my voice sounds gravelly and low. I clear my throat.

“A nightmare? You were screaming,” my mother says, her face as gray and voice as unnerved as it was last night. Maybe more. She hasn’t slept at all. “Was it about that boy who did this to you?”

I blink the sleep out of my eyes and look at my mother. “N-n-o. It was … one of those jinn stories that I heard in India.”

My mom nods, willing to accept the fib, if only to lessen her own worry.

“What time is it?” I rub my face with my palms, still groggy.

“It’s almost twelve-thirty,” my mom says, coming to stand at the foot of my bed.

“What? I’ve been asleep … since … how can I still be tired?”

“It’s from the pain medication. Do your arm and leg hurt very much?” A fresh wave of panic crosses her face as she asks me.

“Not really,” I lie again. “Where’s Dad?”

“He went to the office on his own. The patient load isn’t too big today.”

“Mom, you could’ve gone.”

“How can I leave you like this? Alone in the house?”

“I’m not a baby.”

“You are still our daughter, and after yesterday … oh, my beta, if anything would have happened …”

She starts crying. Again. A part of me feels like I should console her, tell her it will be okay. That I’ll be okay. But I’m not even sure I can convince myself of that right now. And honestly, I just want to be alone.

“Mom. Mom. I’m hungry. Can you make me something to eat, please?”

With the mention of food, my mom perks up. She hurries out and downstairs to the kitchen.



I almost manage to get through the omelet she prepares without a word. Almost.

“Violet called this morning while you were asleep. She was so worried about you. She said she will check on you after school.”

I nod, shoving the rest of the food into my mouth and dropping my fork on my plate. I wince with the pain. The medicine dulled the ache, but it’s still there, and my elbow screams at me whenever I forget.

I’m not in a chatty mood. I’m not much in the mood for anything.

My mom doesn’t get the hint. “I want to talk to you … Your father and I were discussing this last night, and we want to drive you to school and pick you up. We’ll adjust our patient schedules so it won’t be a problem, and you can study in the back office of the clinic until we finish for the day.”

I shake my head. “I can’t go to the clinic with you every day. I have work and—” I pause to catch my breath.

“You will have to quit your job.”

“I’m not quitting anything.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. If you want to buy something, we can give you the money.”

“That’s not the point. I love working at the Idle Hour. Anna and Richard count on me. It’s part of my life, and I won’t let you take that away from me, too.”

She steps toward me. “You talk like our home is a prison. Haven’t we always let you have what you want?”

My mom’s magical thinking allows her to believe that I have total autonomy over my life. My exasperation boils over. Everything in my life is a fight right now, and it’s exhausting. My parents’ fears shrink my universe to the four walls of this house. The world outside paints us all as terrorists. I’m blamed for events that have nothing to do with me. And all I want is to make movies and kiss a boy.

My mother sits down across the table. “Try to understand, beta. What happened to you yesterday was serious. God forbid, it could have been worse. And it’s too dangerous for you to be alone. When your father comes home, we will discuss the plans for next year—”

“I thought everything was settled for Chicago and living with Hina.” The option I protested vehemently against is now my only lifeline to freedom.

“Your father is thinking maybe we should reconsider … and have you stay at home.”

I rise from my chair. “Stay at home? And go where? To community college?”

Before she can answer, I run to my room and slam the door. Fury twists me into knots. I press my fractured elbow, grimacing through the pain, then grip it harder still to see how much I can bear.

The phone rings. Moments later, my mom shuffles to my door. There’s a quiet knock. Usually she barges in, but I know that in this instant, she doesn’t dare. She’s too afraid of setting me off. “Maya, open the door and talk to me like a normal person.”