Salaam, Paris Read Online Free PDF Page B

month, along with letters and photographs describing her new Los Angeles life, all of which made Mina yearn for Lahore even more.
    “We are the same, you and I,” Shazia said to me as we stared over the bridge into the Seine. “We are the only children in our families, only daughters, both fatherless, both with mothers too consumed in their own grief to really look at us.” Shazia wiped away a tear, the first time I had seen her show any emotion.
    “We are like sisters,” she said, linking her arm in mine. “And I will do everything I can to help a sister.”

Chapter Four

    My first ten days in Paris passed as if in a dream—watery, surreal, almost too quickly to savor.
    On day eleven, a mere seventy-two hours before I was scheduled to return to Mahim, the future I had been avoiding showed up on my doorstep.
    In the middle of the afternoon, when Aunt Mina was napping and Shazia was chatting lazily on the phone with one of her old school friends, the doorbell rang. I peered through the peep-hole, and knew instantly who it was.
    “Tanaya?” he asked, as I opened the door.
    I nodded silently.
    “You are even lovelier than I expected,” he said, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Tariq.”
    He was about to extend his hand, but stopped upon realizing that it was perhaps too Western a gesture for me to embrace. I quickly covered my head and stepped aside so he could come in. We stood in the narrow doorway, me too uncomfortable to suggest he approach any farther, him picking up on that.
    “I never heard from you,” he said. “I wanted to make sure that you were OK, that nothing had happened to you. I didn’t have a phone number, only an address. Through my grandfather. You know how old-fashioned these people are.” He smiled and shrugged, his features broad and handsome. In each ear dangled a tiny gold loop, the only things about him reminiscent of a glorious Mughal heritage and accoutrements that looked strangely complementary to his dark suit and tie.
    “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’m fine,” I said, nervously fingering one end of my dupatta. I hadn’t thought through what I was going to tell my family when I returned home. My grandfather had finally called a few days before, but I was out, as usual, with Shazia. Aunt Mina had answered the phone, but told me later that she informed my grandfather that she had “no idea” about any alliance between Tariq and me.
    “I don’t know where you have been going,” she had said to me later. “You deal with this yourself with your Nana. I do not wish to get involved.” Nana had told Aunt Mina to instruct me to call him back. I hadn’t done so yet.
    “I’m not going to ask you why you didn’t contact me,” said Tariq. “We all have our own reasons for doing things. I thought it was weird myself, a girl flying all the way from India to view me. It’s unusual, you know. But I wanted to be open-minded. Living away from Pakistan has altered my outlook.”
    For a second, I remembered Sabrina, the girl who had led me here. I closed my eyes for a moment and wanted to recall what I had been seeking, what had brought me here. I still wasn’t “of the world.” I was still standing on the sidelines and watching. Perhaps it took longer than two weeks. After almost a fortnight here, I was still the same girl. I remained silent, my eyes on the floor, knowing that I had no explanation.
    “Well, I may as well get going,” he said. “As long as nothing happened to you.” He turned to face the door, then turned around again.
    “Don’t worry about anything,” he said. “I will take care of it.”
     
    When Shazia got off the phone, I told her about my unexpected visitor. She laughed gleefully and then raised her hand, expecting me to slap it, an odd mannerism that she had displayed numerous times.
    “Well, at least that’s over with,” she laughed. “He got the message. You’re done with him.”
    “You don’t understand,” I said to her quietly,