The Lost Pearl (2012) Read Online Free PDF Page B

favor by marrying my widowed mother and assuming responsibility of her two children.
    I struggled to adjust. Every few days I would think of my father’s killer and how he had ruined my entire life. I imagined visiting him in prison and telling him what he had done. I tried to get a hold of the newspaper, but somehow everyone managed to hide it from me. I had read the obituary announcing my father’s death, but I was sheltered from all subsequent news updates. I overheard my grandfather say “life imprisonment” and wondered why they would not execute a person who had committed such an unforgivable crime. Perhaps it was better this way; if hedied now, he would not suffer. I wanted him to suffer, to never see the breaking of dawn or the fall of dusk. I wanted him to never taste the freshness of a home-cooked meal, never enjoy the smell of grass, and never feel the miraculous touch of a raindrop. I wanted him to pine for the sound of music, and be deafened by the sound of silence. I wished for him to feel nothing but the nagging pain of loneliness. I wanted him to forever remain behind those metal bars, separated permanently from those he loved, to only dream of a freedom that would never be attainable, and to live every moment of a long life in repentance.
    I was not allowed to talk about my father or even put a picture of him in my room, as it might upset my new papa. My father was gone, but I would not let his memories be buried with him. I thought of running away but realized that was irrational. I was a child; where would I go? Nana would not be able to take care of me, plus he had been behind all of this to begin with. Maybe I could go live with Amna. After all, she seemed like my only ally and she was my best friend. We were in the same class, so we could come and go to school together without too much inconvenience to anybody. I floated the idea in school, and she was overwhelmed with excitement; she said of course I could live with her, why not? But her parents were my mother’s friends and would never agree to anything that would upset her. Plus going off and living at a friend’s house while your own home was two streets down would be crossing social boundaries. Even as a child, cultural norms and expectations had seeped into my psyche.
    Still, I knew I simply had to leave, to go to a place where I did not have to see my stepfather next to my mother, where I did not have to put up with his presence every morning of every day. A thought came to mind, and I decided to write a letter to Phuppo.
    “Dear Phuppo
,
    Salam. Hope you are well. Ever since we returned from California, things have been horrible. You know how much I loved Papa, I can’t bear to see my mother married again. I tried, I really tried, because Nana asked me to, and Ammi begged me to, but my stepfather is mean and I am pretty sure he hates me. I told him that I wouldn’t call him Papa or Abbu, and he got so angry, he started yelling at me and Ammi. I can’t even talk about Papa. The pictures I have of him are in my drawer. I don’t even know where our family picture is hidden. No one mentions Papa, it’s as if he never existed. I cannot live like this. I loved Papa and I love you, you are just like him. I think you are the only one who is still on my side. Can I please move to California? Can I please live with you? Ammi doesn’t know that I am writing you this letter. Please write soon
.
    Love
,
    Your niece, Sana.”
    I asked Sakina to have it mailed so no one would become suspicious; it was the most conniving thing I had ever done. Mail in those days was slow and unreliable, so I waited for a few weeks patiently hoping and praying. I was sure she would want me to live with her, but I was not sure about Phuppa. The letter came in a big white envelope and I rushed to tear it open. She wrote that she would be more than happy to take me in, that she had discussed it with Phuppa, and that I would be like the daughter they had never had. I had