Ask Me No Questions by Marina Budhos

Author:Marina Budhos
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing
Published: 2003-10-04T04:00:00+00:00

ELEVEN

WE’VE BECOME A HOUSE RUN BY WOMEN. JUST like Uncle warned.

We’ve done all we can. Called Mr. Rashid dozens of times until his voice grew thin and exasperated. Stood outside the detention center in Manhattan, knuckles chafed, cheeks sliced with cold, until they sent us home saying there’s nothing more we can do. Then we come back to the empty apartment, blinking, as if surprised not to see Uncle running his bristle brush over his shoes or gargling in the bathroom. Auntie leaves in the morning for her cashier’s job at the ninety-nine cent store, and we take off soon after, our nylon backpacks lumpy with books. I notice fewer and fewer chunks of fish in our gravy, and Auntie waits until the market is closing to buy the vegetables spotted brown and marked down to half price. Nights, she curls up on the sofa in front of the TV with a milky tea on her lap, absently patting the cushions.

Yet I can feel Uncle and Abba, like shapes behind the walls. I see Uncle’s black trousers with the satin stripes hanging in the closet and Abba’s exam books stacked beneath, the ones he always hoped to review to get a new degree. I feel them in the empty rooms: their heavy-sweat smell, the rumble-sound of their voices.

A few days after Uncle was put in detention, Aisha and I go to the library, where we sign up for a computer to type out our letters to Homeland Security and other officials. We have to wait a whole hour to get on, and when we do get our turn, it takes a long time because the printer keeps jamming and the librarian is too busy to help us. Aisha does a few searches and gets the right addresses; then we slip the letters into their envelopes and take them to the post office, where we send everything certified mail.

When we’re done, we celebrate with milk shakes and red-bean buns, my favorite next to jelly doughnuts. “Isn’t it cool?” I say to Aisha and squeeze her hand.

She can only manage a weak smile. “Since when did you become such a rah-rah cheerleader, Nadira?”

A hotness burns my cheeks. “I don’t know. I guess before …” I pause. “Before, you always took over, Aisha. It’s like you didn’t leave any room for me.”

For an instant Aisha’s eyes flash, and I’m sure she’s going to say something mean, put me down. Instead she laughs and picks up the rest of her bun. “There’s plenty of room, Nadira. You just have to learn how to grab it.”

*©©*©©*

After that, something shifts between Aisha and me. It’s like she’s opened the door and wriggled over to let me into her private little world. I know Lily’s hurt because I keep avoiding her. I barely talk to her in math class. I barely talk to her at all, especially since stuff at her house is getting crazy again. But it’s fun hanging with Aisha. I feel a little like

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