Difficult Daughter

Excerpt

“Hey, pretty girl. Need a ride?” The voice came from behind her, followed by the squeal of skidding tires.

Savari stopped mid-step and looked up from the cracked pavement, squinting against the noonday sun. An icy wind whipped at her braid and swung it across the length of her stiffened back. She steadied it with a numb hand and curved it over her right shoulder.

“Why don’t you hop in?”

Her heart raced as she whipped around. A man leered at her through the windshield of a pickup.

Stay calm.

She had to act like it even if she didn’t feel it. Acting gave movies power—even the bad ones stuck with her. And the good ones? They showed her how to live. Or at least how to safely evade creepy men.

The driver flashed his headlights, and Savari shaded her eyes to block the glare. She gulped hard. Her husband, Aditya, always said they meant no harm. They probably meant it as a joke.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, sticking his head out of the window. “One ride around the block is all I ask. I’ll drop you back here, safe and sound. Promise.”

Savari bit her lip and glanced down at her wristwatch. She’d left the chapati dough on the scratched-up kitchen counter to rise. The chickpeas were soaking by the sink. They would have ripened by now, ready for a whirl in the pressure cooker. Savari heaved out a breath, fighting a wave of panic. If she didn’t get home soon, she would be late cooking dinner. Aditya hated it when she didn’t serve his food on time.

“Aren’t your pretty feet tired from all the walking? I can massage them for you.” His chapped mouth yawned open, and he let out a high-pitched cackle.

Savari flinched at the sound of his laugh, but her mind was still on Aditya. He wouldn’t care if she had a valid excuse for being late. He would still make it her fault.

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Savari turned away and scurried. Fear powered her legs, made them pump faster. She wished there was at least one other person within earshot, but America was not India, and Norman was no Mumbai.

As the engine’s rumble drew closer, Savari moved to the opposite end of the sidewalk, but the pickup pulled up closer to the curb. The man stuck his arm out of the window, brushing his fingertips against the sleeve of her military green parka. Savari jumped.

“I’m a good man. I’ll get you home safe.”

They mean no harm. Probably a joke. Aditya’s voice flooded her mind as rivulets of sweat snaked down her sides, pooling at the waistband of her jeans. What’s the worst he could do? He wouldn’t bundle her up against her will and carry her away, would he?

Savari craned her neck, hoping to catch sight of the familiar black SUV, the word police stenciled on the side in bright white paint. She passed it daily on her errands. Morning, afternoon—didn’t matter—there was always one cruising around in her neighborhood, its lights on. The same scowling officer behind the wheel every time, his pale skin as lined and crisped as the Kashmiri chilies that Aai often spread out on their veranda back home for the sun to dry.

Nothing. The silver truck was the only car on the road.

“You’re breaking my heart here, sweetheart.” There was a force to the man’s voice now, at odds with the soft words he spoke. But she was familiar with the quiet before the storm. “Next time, I won’t ask so nicely.”

Every muscle in her body stood taut at the threat. Savari cursed her luck.

Stop it.

Norman wasn’t like some towns in India where women feared to walk the streets alone. She was safe here. Not as safe as she would be if she were still in Mumbai, but surely, she wasn’t in any real danger here, in this speck of a town… was she?

Savari broke into a run. The sudden burst of motion made her calves throb. Heat crept up her face as she rushed down a turn, not entirely sure if she was going in the right direction.

Back home, she didn’t need to worry much. There were always women around. All she needed to do was call out to them, and they would come to her like an angry swarm of bees. Like warriors heeding to a battle cry. Aunties, mothers, sisters, grandmothers. These women she had no relation with, who were strangers to her, as she was to them. Saris tucked into petticoats, dupattas knotted to the side. Flashing eyes. Snarling teeth. But here, there was no one.

“All right, I’m done playing nice.”

The rusty gate of her apartment complex loomed into view. If she raced towards it, she’d reach it in ten or twenty seconds. Perhaps she would provoke him more with her actions, but who knew what would happen otherwise?

Savari cast him a quick sideways glance, and he flashed his blackened teeth at her, his chilly green eyes glinting with amusement.

“Don’t be such a prude. I’m like your daddy.”

Savari stopped dead in her tracks and spun towards him, eyes narrowed. He was nothing like her father. To her, this creep wasn’t even human. He lifted a can of beer to his lips and took a long draw.

What was she going to do? Stand up to him? Fight him?

Aditya had made her watch Alien half a dozen times, and she was secretly glad for it. She had grown to love the fast-thinking, cool-headed heroine. She could have cowered. Instead, she had blasted the extra-terrestrial out of her ship.

In Savari’s imagination, this man’s face mutated into something grotesque. He was no longer a man but an acid-spitting demon with an anvil-shaped head, rusted nails for teeth. She matched his cold, flat stare with one of her own. Like him, she had changed. 

Anger surged through her. At this man, for his intrusion. At Baba, for forcing her to marry Aditya. She straightened her spine and parted her legs, balancing her weight equally on both sides. She would not let this ogre defeat her. Her hold on the nylon strap of her handbag tightened. She pictured it to be the grip of a rifle, the brittle tie now ironclad in her hands.

“Get the fuck away from me,” she said, surprised at her words. 

The smirk fell from his mouth, and his eyes bugged out in their sockets. A surge of electricity ran through Savari, and she nearly pumped her fist in the air. The man hooted the car horn twice to fill the uncertain silence stretching between them. “Or what?” he asked. “What are you going to do, little girl? Call your Mommy?”

What had come over her? Aditya had taught her fighting back hurt as much as running away. There was no one to call, but she would fight back if it came to it. A swing to the face with her bag would let him know the power of literature—thanks to the hardback of An Actor Prepares she had stashed inside.

Why should America differ from any other place? There were monsters everywhere. Savari started moving again. “My husband is waiting for me inside,” she said.

He revved up the engine. “Think that’ll help?”

Savari quickened her step, not slowing down at the intimidation, eyes glued to the gate in front of her. A few more feet and she’d be on the other side. Safe. Savari reached for the latch.

Almost there.

A weight flew towards her in a blur of silver and red.

Her knees buckled, and a sharp pain tore through her chest. She tried to keep her feet firmly planted on the concrete, but there was no strength left in them. Savari slid to the ground. She tasted dirt on her lips and something bitter. A scream rose in her throat. She eyed the frothy puddle forming in front of her, the beer hissing out of the can through a crack.

Her gut churned with fury. Savari brushed away a piece of gravel lodged into her cheek and reached for the can. But by the time she had hauled herself up, ready to hurl it back at her attacker, he was halfway down the block.

“Ugly brown bitch,” he called out, loud and guttural, “go back to Pakistan.” Then he disappeared around a bend with a screech of tires and a gush of exhaust.

The can clattered to the ground.

Savari sprinted towards her block, a fire raging inside of her. It was almost enough to distract her from what was waiting inside her apartment.

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