Watching me. Two seconds. Five seconds. Then he said we were fine, and that the food looked wonderful. Hero or villain, I couldn't decide. As soon as ...he left, I stomped the panties off of one boot and lifted them to my hand with the other. Untangled them from the heel, and then tucked them in my bag.I tasted the squid. It was excellent. I tried a stuffed mushroom. Cheesy. Spicy. Kind of soggy. Hubby and me got to talking again, but it was different. I walked around without a bra often enough. Jolee placed her open palm on the door, then brought her ear to the door and listened. She heard nothing in the hall. Her heart pounded away and she felt a little light-headed, but she also felt giddy with excitement. She slowly pushed the deadbolt back, trying to make as little noise as possible. Once the door was unlocked she opened it a crack and peeked out. The hallway was very dark, but her eyes adjusted soon enough and she saw there was no one there. Jolee sighed in confusion. Could it. Your two sisters learned to cook when they were ten years old.’ I often reply: ‘Why cook? It is so much easier to order take-out.’ She would then shake her head as if to say, ‘What did I do to deserve such a lazy child?’ Halfway through the visit, Ma would then begin her usual criticism of me: the fact that I don’t have a boyfriend. I tell her my career before love speech. She doesn’t buy it. ‘Nonsense,’ she often says. ‘You’re not even close to having a career.’ I would thank her for reminding. I was frank with Steve, about everything. Salwa and Rabia’s disapproval of our relationship. My discomfort with Steve’s dietary habits, especially his fondness for pork, which I, as a Muslim woman, consider haram or forbidden. I’m sorry, I said at last, sighing deeply and looking into Steve’s stunned eyes. There was much I hadn’t told Steve. I’ve been estranged from my family for quite a while. No, it doesn’t have anything to do with Steve. My family and I stopped talking to each other long.
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