American Dervish: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

Mina’s son—held between them—roused and moaned.
    Sniffling, Mother pulled away. She took the boy from Mina’s arms. “Hi there, sweetie…,” she cooed, peering into Imran’s face. “Welcome to America.”
    Imran laid his head on Mother’s shoulder, falling back asleep.
    Mina wiped her eyes, smiling. “He likes you, bhaj! ”
    “Everybody likes me.”
    “I wouldn’t get too carried away!”
    They laughed. Mina turned to me, blurting out in a bright tone: “So this is Hayat! He’s so handsome. Like a movie star!”
    Mother rolled her eyes. “And just as spoiled as one, too…”
    “You’re going to break some hearts, aren’t you, behta? ” She was looking right at me. Again, I felt that surprise. There was something intense and alive about her gaze that the picture had only hinted at. She was dazzling.
    “What’s wrong, behta? ” she asked, playful, her hand on my head now, caressing my hair. “Cat got your tongue?”
    I grinned sheepishly, nodding my reply. The cat had my tongue, indeed.
     
    In our front yard stood three large gnarled trees, old and beautiful. They formed a row, the two trees on the outside leaning in toward the center tree, their tops converging, like three old women—Mother used to say—coming together to share their secrets. Mother had been told they’d been planted too close to the house, that we risked damage to the roof from falling limbs in the event of gale-strength winds, and she’d been advised to have them removed. But Mother loved the trees too much. She and Mina stopped at one of the trunks as Father carried Mina’s bags to the house. I was holding a bag as well, but I stopped to adjust my grip.
    Mina was holding Imran—who pretended to be sleeping, but was actually spying on me with one open eye—as she gazed up into the branches. “White oak,” she said.
    “Something like that,” Mother replied. “Elm or oak or something. ”
    “They’re oaks, bhaj. White oaks. You can tell from the leaves.” Mina pointed. “Pink like that in spring. We used to have one at the center of the courtyard at Station School, remember?” Mother’s chin lifted ever so slightly, and her gaze clouded over. “Remember, it had pink leaves like that?” Mina asked.
    Mother nodded, moved. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t want to lose them.”
    Mina touched the trunk. “Must be a hundred years old.”
    “That’s what the tree man said.”
    At the front door, Father called out: “Green room, right?”
    “Yes, Naveed,” Mother called back. She turned to Mina once he’d disappeared inside. “How many times I’ve told him where you’re staying! And then he asks me again?”
    Mina chuckled.
     “Go on, kurban,” Mother said to me, “take that bag up to the green room for your auntie.”
    “Okay, Mom.”
    I hauled the bag along the walkway and into the vestibule. I climbed the steps to the first room along the upstairs hall, which we called the green room for its kelly-green carpet. We could just as well have called it the cartoon room, as its walls were adorned with four human-sized cartoon decals—Goofy, Daffy Duck, Bugs Bunny, and Snow White—that had been there when we bought the house. For weeks before Mina’s arrival, Mother talked about having the carpet replaced and walls repainted to cover up the cartoons. Father said he would take care of it, but never did.
    As Mina set her things down on the bed, Mother apologized. “I was going to have it recarpeted. Naveed promised me.”
    “But why?”
    “The color? It doesn’t give you a headache?”
    “It’s fine. I don’t want you to go to the trouble.”
    “It’s not trouble. Now that you’re here, we’ll do it together. You can choose the color. And we’ll cover up these stupid cartoons…”
    Mina looked over at me. I was standing by the closet with her things. “What do you think, behta? ”
    Truth be told, I’d always liked the carpet’s color and the cartoons as well. They were an instance of