Love, Hate & Other Filters(44)

“What did it say?” I ask. My dad hesitates. He opens and closes his mouth, but no words come out.

“‘You’re dead—you fucking terrorists,’” my mom quotes. “And it had our home address written on the bottom.” Her face is grim and her voice barely audible as she says what my dad won’t. Or can’t.

I cover my mouth with my hand. I’ve never heard my mom drop the F-bomb before. My stomach churns. I taste the bile rising in my throat.

My dad gently squeezes my mom’s elbow. She looks away, not interested in reassurance or affection.

“We should stay somewhere else, in a hotel or with my sister,” she says. “At least until they catch whoever did this. It’s too dangerous to stay at home.”

I shake my head instinctively. I get it. She’s frightened. She’s a mom worried for her kid’s safety. But nowhere is safe. The logistics don’t even work.

“But they might never catch the guy. And how am I supposed to go to school if we’re at Hina’s?” I’m trying to keep the panic out of my voice.

“Maya can stay with me,” Violet offers. “I know my dad will be cool with it, and I drive her to school, anyway.”

My mom shakes her head no.

Violet doesn’t give up. “If you’re worried, we can always ask the police to beef up the patrol around my house. And we have an alarm system since my dad is totally anxious about how quiet it is here.”

“It will be safer for everyone if Maya stays with family.”

“Will you please stop talking like I’m not here?” I demand. “I can decide for my—”

“No. No,” my father interrupts. “No one is going anywhere. We’re going to stay at home and go to work, and Maya will go to school like everything is normal.”

“But it’s not normal. Look at what happened today. After so many years in this town with no trouble. I’m taking Maya to Hina’s. You can stay here if you want.” My mother mutters the last words under her breath.

He takes her hand. “Jaan, you are right. It is not normal.”

“It’s a death threat!” My mom’s voice turns from fearful to frantic as she begins arguing with my dad in Urdu.

I sigh. It was only a matter of time until they took to their personal language. Of course they do. It cloaks them in the feeling of home, but it leaves me on the outside looking in.

Violet and I walk out, leaving my parents to their quarrel. They don’t even notice I’m gone. When I turn back to look at them through the glass door, I see my mom gesticulating wildly. My dad catches my eye and then nods at my mom to stop. They walk out to join us.

The chief of police approaches. He walks with purpose. Wide, confident steps. Eyes forward, shoulders back. I haven’t done anything, but I still feel like I’m about to get busted. The fact that he carries a gun seems utterly redundant.

He stretches out his hand and removes his silver-rimmed glasses with the other. “Miss Aziz, I’m Chief Wickham. Batavia PD.” He remembers to add a smile when he shakes my hand, like someone told him he’s less intimidating that way.

“Hi. Officer … uh … Chief … Sir—”

“Officer Jameson tells me you reported trouble at school. A student named Brian Jennings harassed you?”

Crap. I did not want to bring up the Brian incident. Not now. Especially not with my mom in emotional overload. I catch Violet’s eye. She gives me a sympathetic grin.

My parents take positions flanking me. They heard it all.

“What happened at school? Did you get hurt?” My mom’s distress kicks into hyperdrive. “See, I’m right; it’s too dangerous here.”

“Mom, relax,” I say, despite knowing that relaxing is not in her wheelhouse. I turn to the police chief. “Name-calling, that’s all. No big deal.” This is another situation best handled by a little white lie about my feelings.

The chief nods. “Has anything like this happened before? With Brian or anyone else?”

I shake my head. There was that weird incident at the Idle Hour when Brian saw me with Phil, but I don’t think being a jerk qualifies as a reportable offense.

The chief turns to my parents. Clearly, they’ve already been acquainted. “Dr. and Dr. Aziz, I’ll send Officers Jameson and Olson home with your family.” He gestures to the two cops standing at their squad car. “I’ll put them on first watch at your place.”

“Can they check around our house in … for … in case—?” My mother raises a trembling hand to her mouth.

“Of course. And when we’re finished here, I will personally escort your husband home.”

“I can drive Maya and Sofia, and they can wait with me in the car until the officers give us the all clear,” Violet offers.

“Thank you, Violet,” my dad says. His voice is level. It’s his response to my mom’s frenzy. The more she freaks out, the calmer he sounds.

My dad nods to the chief, who turns and walks with long strides to Officer Jameson’s car. “Don’t worry, jaan,” he says to my mom.

She walks away from us without saying a word. She’s in tears by the time she reaches Violet’s car.



I pause outside our front door, bracing myself. My mom has already rushed into the house. Violet hugged me extra long before driving off. I take a deep breath. Then another. I look down our street. It’s quiet. The late-afternoon sun dances off the tops of the maple trees that are planted all along the parkway.