The truth that killed chapter 2

____
It had been a month since she was back and every night we sat at the kitchen and went through a lesson from my Grade One notebook. She was a quick and persistent learner. Anytime I was speaking to my other siblings in English, Lena would pull at my sleeve and ask if we could do a lesson. And everyday she would look out the window longingly at the kids playing. She was desperate to belong.

After a months time she was confident enough to go outside and talk to the neighborhood kids. The same ones I grew up with but was now too old for.

One evening I was in the kitchen helping my mother with the dishes. I hated doing the dishes. But my drive to be the diligent daughter was stronger than the hate. A breathless Lena came running into the kitchen.

“Eva, what does Paki mean?” She asked. The soapy dish in my hand almost slipped away. I was familiar with the word. And upon hearing it, my mind raced back to third grade when I had to do a class presentation about Lynx’s. I stood in front of the class ready to embrace them all with the facts I gathered. And then I heard James Medlin whisper in the back of the class. It was faint, but I heard it clear enough. “Whose the Paki?” I was stumped and suddenly grew fearful of my presentation. Mr. Baker egged me to go on because we were running out of time he said. So I stumbled through my presentation with my heart pounding in my chest, all while repeating his words in my head, Whose the Paki?

“Who called you Paki?” I demanded.

“Jordan said,”

I bit my lip reluctant to tell her what it meant.

“Don’t play with him,” I told her. She looked at me with furrowed brows.

“Paki is what they call dark kids who don’t take baths,” my mother scornfully interjected. “If you take baths everyday you can get all that dirt off you and be white like Eva.”

Lena looked down at her bronzed arms and inspected the skin more closely.

I didn’t like what my mother said but I was too afraid to say anything. Our places in the house were beginning to solidly hold. It was clear we were all ranked like steps on a ladder. My brother was at the top and I was one step under him, then Olli. And then there was Lena, hanging from the bottom of the ladder. And though I knew my mother was wrong for saying what she said, I wouldn’t say anything I was too afraid would bring me down the ladder.

At the table Lena sat on the chair with her feet on the seat and her legs folded.

¨Don’t sit like a beggar. You´re not in the village anymore. Sit like your sister,” my mother said.

I realized then that I no longer worried that I was going to be loved less. My mother constantly told Lena to be more like me. And if my mother wanted Lena to be more like me then that must of meant she loved me more. And my place in this house wasn’t going to change after all.



My dad came home after we finished eating. He was the lion and as soon as he thundered through the front door we all scattered like mice. When my father was home he wanted nothing but silence. I already knew this, but Lena with her loud nature, still had to learn.

I raced up to my brothers room, Lena trailing behind me. Malik was sitting on his bed reading his basketball magazines. He had drawers filled with them. He believed he would be a famous basketball player one day, and I knew he was right. I imagined myself going to all his games, cheering from the front row.

“Is dad home?” he asked, putted down his magazine.

“Yup, he just got home,” I said and fell back on his bed.

“Want to go get some ice cream?” he asked.

There was only one answer to that question.

The three of us walked to the ice cream parlor on Stella Street. I ordered my usual butterscotch and my brother ordered his mint chip, as I knew he would. And then Lena stood there with her eyes wide and wandering around the store as if she had just unlocked a portal to another world.

“Lena have you had ice cream before?” I wondered.

She shook her head and pressed her forehead against the glass, and stared in wander at all the ice cream. I didn’t understand what kind of place she came from that didn´t offer her ice cream. I was glad in that moment that I had never been to Pakistan. I began to explain to Lena what ice cream was and all the flavors but before I could even finish she turned to the ice cream lady and all bright eyed she told her ¨I want chocolate,” she said it in perfect English and said the word chocolate like she was very familiar with the word.

¨You have to say please,¨ I told her.

¨Please,¨ she said back to the lady.

When the lady passed her the ice cream I didn´t need to tell Lena what to say next.

¨Thank you,¨ she said flashing her crooked buck teeth.

We went outside and the sun was radiating down on us. We sat down on the edge of the side walk with the ice cream dripping down our hands. I looked to Lena and she seemed to be in her own little world, blissfully enjoying this small little treat.

¨They don´t make them like this in the village huh, Lena,¨ my brother said, and Lena laughed with her chocolate covered mouth.

Lena spoke to anyone who walked by. ¨This is my sister and this is my Brother,” she said practicing her English. She looked at me for confirmation and I nodded my head. She was learning the language very quickly and she wasn’t afraid to test it. My brother winced with embarrassment because she was repetitively saying the same thing to anyone who walked by, but I didn’t mind. Lena was happy to be with us. And she was unafraid of the world.

_________________________



Dad dropped Lena and I off to school so he could register Lena. It was the first time he had been in the school so I led the way. Class hadn’t started yet and the hallway was filled with kids lingering by their lockers. I watched as their big weary eyes looked up to my father. I looked back and saw how intimidating he was, towering over the kids and with a grim face. Rarely ever did he smile. I led him to the vice principal, Mrs. Stevens office. Every day I would come to her office to do the morning announcements. After the announcements were over she would give me a slice of her homemade carrot cake and she would ask me about what book I was currently reading. We spoke mostly of Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. She was the one who made me read and love both.

I walked into her office and the room smelt like cinnamon, the scent of baked goods always lingered there. Mrs. Stevens looked up from her computer screen and smiled at me. When she got up I saw she was wearing her famous baggy pants that tightened up at the ankles. Her silver hair was cropped and swept to the side and in her ears hung banana earring.

“Eva! How are you doing. This must be your father. I’m Joanna,” she beamed and extended her hand.

“Hello,” he said and shook it.

“I love your earrings,” I said to her.

“Oh, thank you darling. I found them at the boutique downtown,” she reached up feeling them. I could see her glance at Lena who was still standing by the door.

“So what can I help you with?” she asked smiling at my dad.

“This is Lena,” he said pointing behind him. “She is late but we need to register her into kindergarten. Her English isn’t great yet but it will improve,” he said.

Mrs. Steven’s big eyes were set on Lena, and then she looked, at me puzzled with her brows pushed in.

¨Eva I didn´t know you had a younger sister?” she said, almost accusingly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I thought she looked mad and my stomach sunk. She was staring at me as if I lied to her. I could feel my cheeks heat up with shame. I didn´t mean to lie, I just never told her that I had a sister who has been living in Pakistan this whole time. I didn´t know how to bring it up so I didn´t.

For the rest of the day my classmates drowned me with questions. Why doesn’t she look like you? Why did you tell everyone you were the youngest? Maybe you’re lying.

I tried not to care and I made sure they saw I didn’t care. But it really did bother me all day. I felt dishonest and perhaps I shouldn’t have told people I was the youngest, but it was too complicated to explain it the other way, the truth.


When I came home from school my mom was just getting up from a nap. She let out a yawn, rubbed her eyes open, and then called for me. I through my backpack down on the couch and took a seat beside her.

“How was school?” she asked me as she ran her fingers through my hair like I was a cat. I wasn’t having a good day but the smell of lavender that came from my mother was calming me.

“It was okay,” I told her, not wanting to talk about it.

“You’re so pretty, the other kids must love you,” she said. I shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t think anyone in my class really cared about being pretty yet. And even if they did, I wasn’t pretty in their eyes. I was a liar.

“You know now that we have your sister, I’m going to need your help around the house more. You will help me, won’t you?”

I nodded my head understandingly. She treated me the best and always complimented me, so I had to help her in return.

“Good. There are some dishes in the sink,” she said.