half. Was the doll American
voodoo? Knowing your mother, I wouldn't have been surprised,
but when I moved my hand over the open drawer, I felt nothing.
No energy from anyone's soul was trapped inside. Then I unfolded the strip of paper. On it was printed, Leave the past behind.
I looked at that sentence a long time. Then I folded the strip
of paper and put it hack into the box. I closed the drawer and
dropped the box into the side pocket of the satchel, and I slid the
satchel into the narrow space between the bureau and the bed,
exactly where I had found it, I thought. Then I walked around the
bed to where her suitcase was lying on top of her old desk.
Shakilah still hadn't unpacked her clothes and most of her things
were in the suitcase, so I opened it slowly. I felt underneath her
clothes, slipping my fingers carefully between the layers so as not
to ruffle them, and I found the other things, the other details of
her life in America which she couldn't tell me about.
That was when I was forced to put two and two together.
NO. I I F R FRII. N►) Rose didn't know, even though she and your
mother used to be best friends. Rose never had that kind of
wildness in her, and with a mother like Helena, besides.
No wonder Eve would look so broken-hearted whenever I
saw her. Back when Shakilah had first left, and the loneliness
had been unbearable, the house so silent in the evenings, I used
to go for walks. Sometimes if it was the right time, Eve would
be outside her house, watering the jacaranda as usual. No wonder sometimes she would look up when I passed by, and look at
me in that way. I had thought she understood my sorrow, and
for a while, I was even afraid she might have guessed at the
truth, because of the way she would look at me.
And all that while, she had been searching my face to see if
I had guessed her secrets.
IMAGI NF ►►A\IN(;' )M►►►IIN(;likethatstabyouintheback.
Your daughter, your own daughter whom you've raised, whom
you've gone through fire to protect, so to speak. You start wondering if you did it too late, if your lack of courage made you wait too long. And what about now? What should you do now?
What should you do about your granddaughter?
So I knew why she was out for so long that morning, when
she had gone for a walk by herself.
I could hear her and Rose talking downstairs when I woke
up from my nap. (Zaida's daughter Mahani had also come over
that day, but she had left by then.) I wasn't feeling refreshed,
not at all. There was still a bit of a headache throbbing behind
my eyelids, but it was faint, not the blinding pain that had built
up while I was sitting in Shakilah's room earlier. I had never had
a headache like that, arrows of pain shooting down my sides,
into my arms and my thighs. And how my right hand had
burned. A single sharp pain in it, like a red-hot iron needle passing
through my palm. No, I had no explanation and I wasn't looking
for one. There are more things in heaven and earth, Mercutio, than are
dreamt of in your philosophy. No, Mercutio never heard those
words, because he was in the other play with Romeo. But he,
too, was fated to die. You see how we forget the one that's not
directly in front of us. Yes, this story's wandering about a bit.
Believe me, it's the only way.
At least, I had managed to sleep a bit. Always be thankful
for small blessings.
THE WORST WAS yet to come. What was I being tested for? Or
was it punishment? When she told me what she was thinking
about, I was stunned. I couldn't speak for a few seconds. I could
only stare at her, at this daughter who had grown within my
womb, whose delicate head had once fit perfectly against my
palm. When I used to cuddle her, my fingers would close so easily around the side of her head, and I would hold her like that,
her earlobe rubbing on my middle fingertip, her skull so fragile
beneath my thumb, I would check for marks whenever I put her
down, nervous about
voodoo? Knowing your mother, I wouldn't have been surprised,
but when I moved my hand over the open drawer, I felt nothing.
No energy from anyone's soul was trapped inside. Then I unfolded the strip of paper. On it was printed, Leave the past behind.
I looked at that sentence a long time. Then I folded the strip
of paper and put it hack into the box. I closed the drawer and
dropped the box into the side pocket of the satchel, and I slid the
satchel into the narrow space between the bureau and the bed,
exactly where I had found it, I thought. Then I walked around the
bed to where her suitcase was lying on top of her old desk.
Shakilah still hadn't unpacked her clothes and most of her things
were in the suitcase, so I opened it slowly. I felt underneath her
clothes, slipping my fingers carefully between the layers so as not
to ruffle them, and I found the other things, the other details of
her life in America which she couldn't tell me about.
That was when I was forced to put two and two together.
NO. I I F R FRII. N►) Rose didn't know, even though she and your
mother used to be best friends. Rose never had that kind of
wildness in her, and with a mother like Helena, besides.
No wonder Eve would look so broken-hearted whenever I
saw her. Back when Shakilah had first left, and the loneliness
had been unbearable, the house so silent in the evenings, I used
to go for walks. Sometimes if it was the right time, Eve would
be outside her house, watering the jacaranda as usual. No wonder sometimes she would look up when I passed by, and look at
me in that way. I had thought she understood my sorrow, and
for a while, I was even afraid she might have guessed at the
truth, because of the way she would look at me.
And all that while, she had been searching my face to see if
I had guessed her secrets.
IMAGI NF ►►A\IN(;' )M►►►IIN(;likethatstabyouintheback.
Your daughter, your own daughter whom you've raised, whom
you've gone through fire to protect, so to speak. You start wondering if you did it too late, if your lack of courage made you wait too long. And what about now? What should you do now?
What should you do about your granddaughter?
So I knew why she was out for so long that morning, when
she had gone for a walk by herself.
I could hear her and Rose talking downstairs when I woke
up from my nap. (Zaida's daughter Mahani had also come over
that day, but she had left by then.) I wasn't feeling refreshed,
not at all. There was still a bit of a headache throbbing behind
my eyelids, but it was faint, not the blinding pain that had built
up while I was sitting in Shakilah's room earlier. I had never had
a headache like that, arrows of pain shooting down my sides,
into my arms and my thighs. And how my right hand had
burned. A single sharp pain in it, like a red-hot iron needle passing
through my palm. No, I had no explanation and I wasn't looking
for one. There are more things in heaven and earth, Mercutio, than are
dreamt of in your philosophy. No, Mercutio never heard those
words, because he was in the other play with Romeo. But he,
too, was fated to die. You see how we forget the one that's not
directly in front of us. Yes, this story's wandering about a bit.
Believe me, it's the only way.
At least, I had managed to sleep a bit. Always be thankful
for small blessings.
THE WORST WAS yet to come. What was I being tested for? Or
was it punishment? When she told me what she was thinking
about, I was stunned. I couldn't speak for a few seconds. I could
only stare at her, at this daughter who had grown within my
womb, whose delicate head had once fit perfectly against my
palm. When I used to cuddle her, my fingers would close so easily around the side of her head, and I would hold her like that,
her earlobe rubbing on my middle fingertip, her skull so fragile
beneath my thumb, I would check for marks whenever I put her
down, nervous about
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