The Scars They Hide

Chapter Eleven - Family is a Gift From Up Above...or is it?

Chapter Eleven – Family is a Gift From Up Above...or is it?

The problem with May was that she never forgot something once she had done it, nor did she ever forget anything that her mother told her.

So now that her mother had allowed her to call their neighbour over once, it seemed to her like a free pass to do it again.

This was something that Lutfiyah did not appreciate. How was she supposed to protect her daughter from emotional harm if May was so insistent on saving their neighbour?
And as for the idea that she should start introducing her daughter to more people? Well. It still didn’t sit well with Lutfiyah.
Her mind, however, was completely turned away from her worries and made to face an entire new bunch of them.

“Papa, you cannot be serious! What is she even doing in the UK? She never leaves Canada!”

Lutfiyah groaned into her phone, motioning to her secretary to wait five minutes before sending in her next client.

“She’s family, bachoo, whether you like it or not,” her father replied, annoyingly calm about a fact that was giving Lutfiyah a stroke.

“I know that but her coming means a screaming match at the least and a murder at worst! And we neither have the time nor energy to deal with that.”

Her father sighed and she could imagine him pinching the skin between his brows with his forefinger and thumb.

“Lutfiyah, you know your aunty. If we don’t at least join her for tea, she will tell the entire family what bevafaas we are. Through Facebook!”

“We are not traitors. I would just like to keep my family free from gossip. Why couldn’t my uncles come and visit? My cousins and nephews and nieces and maybe the entire world except for her!” she cried out in exasperation.

“She said that she feels like she might die in a few months and wishes to visit all her family before that happens,” her father said, amused as heck.

Lutfiyah rolled her eyes. “She invents a new ailment every time she calls. She doesn’t even know the truth about May and she still judges her. I don’t want her around my child.”

Her secretary motioned towards the waiting room impatiently and Lutfiyah mouthed an apology to her before paying attention to what her father was saying.

“She’s bringing all her children and their children with, so it will be a lovely reunion. Be here at the restaurant on Saturday night at least, please. For all our sakes.”

She agreed quickly and greeted before hanging up.

Apparently the headache was to start early that day.

# # #

It wasn’t that Lutfiyah didn’t love her family. It was quite the opposite. When she was younger, her family were the only people that she allowed to see her true self. With them, she let go. She screamed and laughed, talked loudly and moved carelessly. With them, she used to be home.

Then came Chicago, four years ago and suddenly, she just wanted to be alone. There was no way to explain to a family as large as hers what had happened to her without feeling minglings of pity and disgust. So she had let her parents make up a story.

She had met an American boy, a good Muslim from a good home. They hadn’t wanted a big wedding, had married almost towards the end of her last year at University and were going to announce it to everyone after her graduation but he had met in an accident and lost his life.

So Lutfiyah had been left a widow with an unborn child.

The story had sold well and explained away her withdrawn nature and slight depression. The family was obviously offended and insulted. They felt snubbed and affronted and everything that could make Desi people angry at the entire secrecy of everything but at least there wasn’t any intrusive behaviour and odd questions.