Page 185 - A Woman Is No Man

“You were still there,” Deya said. “Surely you must remember
something.”
Sarah stared at her knees. “I think it was because I ran away. They

must’ve been afraid that you and your sisters would follow in my footsteps
one day.”
“That makes sense.”
There was a pause, and Sarah met Deya’s eyes. “Do you remember how
things were after I left?”
“Not exactly. Why?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Sarah asked.

“What?”
“Do you remember the last time you saw your parents?”
Deya considered. “I think so. I’m not sure.”
“What do you remember?”
She felt the enormity of the memory on her tongue, words she had never
said aloud. “They took us to the park. That’s the last thing I remember.”

“Tell me what happened,” Sarah said.
Deya had replayed this memory so many times before she could picture
it vividly: Mama waiting for her and Nora at the bus stop, with Layla and
Amal asleep in the stroller. “We’re going to the park,” Mama had said,
smiling wider than Deya had ever seen. Deya felt a rainbow bloom inside
her. They walked down Fifth Avenue, teeth chattering, cold air forming
goose bumps on their skin. Cars honked. People rushed by. When they

reached a subway station, Deya realized Mama meant to take them inside
and her stomach clenched in fear: she had never ridden a train before. She
breathed and breathed as they descended the dirty staircase. Below, the
dimness hurt her eyes. The platform was a dingy gray, smeared with
garbage and wads of chewing gum, then dropped steeply to the subway
rails. Rats ran across the tracks, and Deya inched back from the edge. At the

end of the tunnel, she could see a bright light, fast approaching. It was the
train. She gripped Mama’s leg as it swept by. When the train stopped in
front of them, the doors opened, and there stood Adam. He rushed over to
them, wrapping her in his arms. Then they went to the park, all six of them,
a family.
“So Adam met you all in the subway and took you to the park?” Sarah
asked.

“Yes.”