Internment(34)

“Beta, have some tea with us?” my dad asks. “We thought it would be fun for you, like breakfast in bed.”

I knit my eyebrows, unsure of what they’re talking about. But I move aside and they step in and my mom closes the door behind them.

I pull out the chair at my little desk and gesture for my mom to take a seat. She hands me my cup before sitting down. I take a sip. Sugar and milk, how I like it. My dad finds a comfortable spot to sit cross-legged on the floor, his back against my door. I position myself in the small floor space between the chair and my bed.

Then I look at them and shrug. “You guys have something you want to say to me?” I ask. There are no cameras in the bedrooms. So this definitely means something. There’s no other reason they’d squeeze in here for tea, which they prefer to take leisurely—a reminder of what life was before.

My mom nods at my father, who clears his throat. “Some of the others were saying that they—”

She interrupts him. “A couple of the other parents were saying they saw you going somewhere with that guard, the tall one who never smiles.”

I tense up but try not to show it on my face. “None of the guards ever smile, Mom. They’re guards, not the fun squad on a Carnival cruise.”

My mom raises an eyebrow at me. “No need to be so sarcastic. Are you saying it’s not true? You weren’t seen walking to the Hub with that guard?”

Shit. I guess I’ve been kind of careless. Can’t let that happen again. “I… it was nothing. I asked him if I could call David.”

“What?” My mom raises her voice. “Are you crazy? Asking a guard for a favor? Do you understand what he could do to you?”

“Jaan.” My dad uses his favorite term of endearment for my mom—my soul, my life—and pats the air with his palm down, a quieting gesture. “Let Layla explain.” They both look at me.

“I’m sorry. It was nothing. I asked him if we really get a call allotment and if I could call David. I walked there with him but then remembered David was in English class, so I wouldn’t be able to get through anyway. That’s all.” Mostly that’s the truth. It’s all I can give them now, without worrying them even more.

My mom’s bottom jaw practically hits the floor. “Layla, do you have any idea how foolish you were? To even ask him? You put yourself in danger. We don’t ever want you to be alone anywhere with one of these guards. You never know what they could—” She doesn’t allow herself to complete that thought.

My dad picks up her thread. “Layla, the best thing we can do here is keep our heads down. Don’t attract attention. Fade into the crowd. Stay as anonymous as possible. That’s how we’ll survive.”

I had raised the cup to take a sip of tea, but I put it down on the floor next to me, harder than I mean to, and some of it spills over. I pull my hand back and wipe the hot liquid from my pants. “Survive? Is that all we want now? To survive? What about wanting to live? Have we all forgotten that? Have we all decided that our entire lives are going to be spent here? Did I miss the memo?”

“Layla.” My mom usually tries hard to soften the edge in her voice when she feels it coming on, but not this time. “You’re young. Too young and too foolish to understand what’s happening here. We have no rights and no power, and no one in this family is going to take any risks. Do you understand me?”

“Beta.” My dad tries to temper my mom’s voice by adding his calmer tones. He takes a breath. “Do you remember that line I wrote, ‘Only when you open yourself to the heart’s silence can you hear its roar’?”

“I thought you wrote that poem after I was born, about finding love in quiet places.”

My dad smiles. He stands up, walks over, and squeezes next to me on the floor and strokes my hair like he used to when I was little. I look at my mom, and there are tears in her eyes. “It is about that. But it’s also a reminder that being quiet doesn’t always signify weakness. Sometimes it takes great strength to find that silence. Sometimes it takes incredible strength to survive.”

My mom takes a deep, quivering breath. My heart hurts for her. For both of them. I worry about them, too, but I can’t imagine how much more they worry about me. I mean, they built their entire life around my existence. I know they mean well. I don’t share their worldview. But I’m not going to tell them that.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I should’ve been smarter, more careful. I… I just miss David so much.” My voice cracks when I speak.

“We know, beta,” my mom says. “I’m sorry I raised my voice. We’re terrified of something happening to you. There are people who—”

“Mom, I know. You don’t have to tiptoe around it. Some people disappear. And no one knows where. I was there with you at the orientation, remember? Don’t worry. I’m not going to do something stupid. I’m mostly hanging out with Ayesha, listening to her talk about Star Wars.”

“Obviously, Ayesha has refined cultural taste, and I totally approve of this friendship,” my dad says, and chuckles a bit.

“Hah. I already told her you and Mom are total Star Wars nerds.”

My mom gives me a wistful smile. “I’m telling you: Young Luke Skywalker, he was my first crush. And first love is one you never forget.”