Dear Ana,
She’s back. Hiba is back.
I was doing my homework while my mom made dinner when someone knocked on the door. It was Hiba, standing on our welcome mat, with mascara running down her face.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, sticking my head outside to see if Mikhail was there too. He wasn’t. I looked at her again and noticed that she was shaking from head to toe.
“Hiba, what’s wrong? Did something happen to Mikhail?”
She shook her head, instantly destroying that brief flicker of hope that erupted in my chest and replacing it with an acute wave of guilt. Was my soul so far gone that I would wish death upon my own family? If the answer was yes, then I deserved every ounce of destruction the universe chucked my way.
I think we both know that it was a yes, Ana.
I continued to stare at her, waiting for some explanation for why she was here but she didn’t speak. She just stood there, quivering like a frail leaf caught in a tornado. Her eyes were frantically flickering around, before finally meeting my gaze and my stomach dropped to the floor.
“What did he do?” I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear her say it.
“He hit me,” she said quietly, and those three little words broke me harder than anything Mikhail had ever done. They shook the ground beneath my feet, threatening to crumble into the earth and drag me down with it. I wished it did. I wished it swallowed me up whole, and squashed me into a cloud of dust that was incapable of feeling anything. I didn’t want to hear this, Ana. I didn’t want to know this. I didn’t want us to be the same. We were forever bound together in the same group. She was part of a statistic now . . . just like me.
“What’s going on?” Mama asked from behind me. “What is she doing here?”
“Mikhail hit me,” Hiba told her. I looked back at my mom, waiting for her to say something. Waiting for her to gasp in horror and disappointment. Waiting for her to maybe, finally, do something about him but she didn’t.
“Did you hear what she said?” I demanded when she continued to stand there silently. “Mikhail hit her. Your precious son hit someone. He hit a girl.”
“That’s enough, Maya,” she snapped. “Why should I believe her after all the lies she’s told us in the past?”
“Are you . . . joking?” I scoffed in disbelief. “Are we still pretending that Mikhail is normal? Are you seriously so blinded by your motherly love that you can’t accept the fact that he’s dangerous? I mean, if you can’t protect me fine, but she is innocent!” I shouted, pointing at Hiba. “She doesn’t need to get dragged into this family’s twisted drama!”
Silence, Ana. All she did was give me silence.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered and fixed my gaze on Hiba seriously. “What do you want to do?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what do you want to do?” I repeated. “Do you want to press charges?”
She looked taken back. “No way, I can’t do that to him.”
“Why not? Why did you come here then?”
“I came here because I thought you would understand.”
“I do understand! That’s why I’m telling you to press charges!” I shook my head in frustration. “Listen to me, Hiba. I don’t like you. In fact, I really fucking hate you, but that doesn’t mean you deserve to be treated like an animal. I know you think you can fix him, but you can’t. You need to get out before he tries to suck you back into his arms, with all his manipulative charm and perfectly planned out tactics.”
“We were arguing . . . it wasn’t like that––”
“Don’t,” I snapped. “Don’t make excuses for him. Don’t try to decode his behavior when his intentions are clear as day. This is who he is!”
“You don’t know him like I do, okay? You’ve never taken the time to get to know your brother––”
“I’m sorry I was too busy getting strangled and beaten to get to know him,” I seethed sarcastically. I couldn’t understand what was wrong with her. Was she so in love that she couldn’t hear herself? She was even worse than my mother. “If you came here for comfort, or to bond over our shared trauma, you made a mistake. How can I comfort you when I can’t even comfort myself?”
I stared at her, the memory of her and Mikhail interacting in the basement all those months ago flashing before my eyes. “I’m sorry you don’t realize what he’s done to you. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for you. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for you to believe me, but you and I are not the same, Hiba. Our experiences, while similar, are not the same. I got hurt by someone who was supposed to love me, and you got hurt by someone who supposedly does love you. You’ve had the privilege of meeting a side of Mikhail that I never got to.” I crossed my arms over my chest, pushing back the painful jealousy. “I can help you get away from him, but I can’t help you process what he did to you. I can’t be your friend, Hiba.”
She opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by a car screeching to a halt in front of my house. Mikhail flung open his door and stormed toward us. I immediately stepped outside and stood in front of her.
“Stay away from her,” I warned him as he approached closer. He obviously didn’t listen to what I said and just glared at me. He wasn’t that much taller than me anymore, but I immediately felt myself shrink three feet shorter under his dark stare. I forced myself to keep my stance, instead of cowering away like he wanted me to. This wasn’t about me; it was about Hiba. I couldn’t protect myself, Ana, but I could protect her. I had to. This was my fault. Mikhail was my fault.
But then his eyes flickered away and focused on the girl standing behind me. The girl I was trying to protect . . . except his demeanor suddenly transformed. His eyes, which were filled with disgust and hatred only seconds ago, were now brimming to the top with . . . love?
“Hiba, please come back to me,” he whispered in a tone I had never heard before. “I love you, just let me explain.”
“Don’t,” I breathed. “Don’t fall for it, Hiba. This is all a part of his game.”
“Shut up, Maya,” he ordered menacingly. There he was, I thought in relief. There was the Mikhail that I knew and hated and didn’t imagine. “Why can’t you just let me be happy? Why are you always trying to ruin everything for me?” His eyes pivoted back to her, and once again he was a completely different person. “Don’t listen to her, Hiba. I’ve told you all about her issues before. Let’s just talk, okay?” His voice was soft and pleading and full of emotion. He extended his hand toward her . . . the same hand that had shoved me, choked me, slapped me . . . I closed my eyes against the image. There was no way, I reminded myself. There was no way he was capable of . . .
“Okay,” I heard her mumble from behind me. I was sure that I was imagining it, but to my horror, I saw her push past me and take his hand. He pulled her into him, and my breath caught because I knew he was about to hurt her, but he was just hugging her. He placed his hand behind her head and stroked her hair, whispering softly in her ear. She nodded and pressed herself tighter into his chest.
“Hiba,” I begged breathlessly. “Hiba, please. I can help you. I can go with you, please. Please don’t . . .” My voice faltered away into the air, disappearing completely. It didn’t matter, though. There was nothing I could say to convince her. She was already gone.
Mikhail lifted his head and looked at me again, all traces of calmness and love vanishing from his dark regard. “You will never know love, Maya. You will never be loved.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He just wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her back to his car. I watched them, my feet glued to the porch, but she didn’t give me a second glance.
I knew what happened next, Ana. I could see exactly how it played out in my mind. He took her out for dinner––somewhere fancy, but ultimately it was her choice. The weather was surprisingly nice today, so maybe afterwards he got her ice cream or frozen yogurt and they went for a romantic stroll. On the way, he’ll stop at a floral stand and get her the biggest and prettiest bouquet. He’ll shower her with tender words and soft touches and in a few days, he’ll surprise her with a gift––jewellery, maybe? A new perfume?
The sick part of my brain I shared with Mikhail wished our relationship could be like that. The typical one where he hits you but then feels bad so he treats you super well for the next few days to make up for it. But that’s the thing with Mikhail, Ana. He never felt guilty after he hurt me. There was no love involved. There was no love involved with them either, but she just couldn’t see it.
I went back inside, still in shock. My mom was standing in the doorway, her face filled with pity. I turned away and headed toward the stairs, but her next words stopped me.
“Maya, honey, something came for you in the mail,” she said quietly. “On the coffee table.”
I was confused at first because nothing ever came for me in the mail, but then I remembered my university applications. I quickly went into the living room, smiling when I saw two thick envelopes sitting on the table. The one on top was stamped from the University of Calgary, but I set it aside without opening it because that wasn’t what I wanted. I picked up the second one, and I was immediately drenched in complete happiness when I saw the University of Toronto logo on the front. I flipped it over to rip it open but noticed that someone had already done the honors.
I looked back at my mom standing silently behind me. “It’s a felony to open someone else’s mail,” I told her.
“You got in,” she replied. The envelope slipped out of my fingers at her words.
“Really?” I whispered, my voice filled with joy. “I got in?”
She nodded. “Congratulations.”
She didn’t sound excited though, she sounded crushed, which instantly tainted my rare moment of delight.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were applying to go to Toronto?” she asked, her voice accusing.
I swallowed back the lump in my throat. “I didn’t want to say anything in case I didn’t get in.”
“How could you possibly believe that? You’re the smartest person I know.”
“Fine. I didn’t tell you because I knew you would say no.”
“If you knew that we would say no, then why did you even apply in the first place?”
“Because I don’t care,” I snapped. “I don’t care if you guys don’t let me go, I’m going anyway.”
“You would do that? You would leave against your parent’s wishes?”
“That’s not fair, Mama,” I said, crossing my arms across my chest. “I’m not asking you guys for anything. I looked into it already, and I qualify for financial aid to cover everything––housing, books, tuition. I have some money saved up from tutoring, and I’ll get a part-time job when I’m there. There’s no reason to say no.”
“Yes, there is. You know it’s not okay for a single girl to live alone and away from her family.”
“Oh my God,” I groaned. “Don’t use culture as a defense, Mama. You know that I’m responsible enough to live on my own, you’re just trying to keep me trapped here.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Do you want to get away from me that badly?”
“It’s not about you. You know why I want to leave.”
“So that’s it then? I have no choice but to choose between my children?”
“That’s not what I’m asking––”
“Yes, it is!” she snapped harshly. “This is what you’ve been waiting for. You want to use this as leverage so that I’ll kick your brother out.”
“What?”
“I may not be as smart as you, but I’m not stupid,” she said, and then her shoulders slumped in defeat. “What do you want me to do? Do you want me to kick him out and onto the street? He has nowhere else to go. What will people say? He’s my son, I can’t do that to him.”
“I know he’s your son, Mama, but I am also your daughter,” I pleaded, clinging to my dream as it slowly started to slip away. “You see how he treats me. I can’t take it anymore, please. Please let me go.”
“What about me? You’re going to leave, and then what about me? I’m just going to stay here alone? Baba is only here during the summer, but what about the other nine months? You’re not the only one that Mikhail treats badly, Maya.”
Of course I knew how he treated them. Of course I heard the disrespectful and hurtful things he said to both of my parents when he was angry, despite all the things they did for him. As much as it hurt me to see him hurt them, it confused me just as much. I understood tolerating your kids when they were young, but he was a grown-up now. He should know the difference between right and wrong. It’s not their responsibility to parent him for the rest of his life.
“All the more reason to kick him out.”
“I am his mother!” she said loudly, firmly, with finality. “Regardless of what he says or does, that fact will remain true. I am his mother and he is my son. He came out of my body. He is made of what I am made of. He is mine, Maya, and if you hate him . . . if you are so cruel to hate your own flesh and blood, then you must hate me too.”
His mother, Ana. Never your mother. Never mine.
It was kind of beautiful to watch. She was the definition of what it meant to be a mother. Her love was selfless and unwavering. The sacrifices she would make and the devotion she had for Mikhail was immeasurable. She was the beaming source of strength and resilience during his difficult times. No matter what he did or said, her love for Mikhail would forever be constant and unbreakable.
It must be exhausting, I think. She must be exhausted. Too exhausted to stretch that beautiful kind of love to include me as well.
I wondered briefly if things might’ve turned out differently had I been born first? Had I been born a boy? Would Mikhail love me then? Would my mother?
I continued to look into her eyes, and I knew deep down that I couldn’t do this to her. I couldn’t leave her alone, and I would never forgive myself if something were to happen in my absence. Mikhail had never laid a finger on her, but there was no telling what he was capable of. I didn’t need my mother anymore but she still needed me, so I grabbed the envelope . . . the thing I’d been desperately waiting for all this time . . . and with a heavy chest, I ripped my escape route in half.
I went to my room without another word, sitting in my closet and letting the tears fall. I had spent my whole life holding on to the dream that one day I would leave. I didn’t let myself try to move on or deal with anything, because I told myself that I needed to wait until I left. I told myself that the key to my happiness was to just move away from my family. I told myself to just keep pushing through all the bullshit because when I finally left my life would be perfect. Now it was too late. Now that I finally made it to what I’d been waiting for, the dream was shattered right before my eyes, and the ultimate truth was blossoming through the broken shards. I was never leaving. I was never going to escape. My home was in this prison, and it was about time I accepted it.
The only thing I had was my hope, Ana. My faith that things couldn’t be bad forever, because I knew that with every rainstorm there came a rainbow. So despite all the attacks against my frail and thin shield, I continued to grasp onto the scraps and tatters that were left behind. I continued to gather the crumbs and specs that survived through all the destruction and desperately tried to fuse them back together only for them to get destroyed all over again. But I’m done. I have no more slivers of hope. I have no more fragments of trust left in the universe. The only thing I have is the darkness that’s been flickering in the edges of my vision, patiently waiting for me to let it take over.
So I finally did the thing that I should have done all those years ago. I breathed it in completely and allowed it to swallow up my undivided existence. I let it seep into my veins and ooze into my bones, fusing all my cells together until my white skeleton turned pitch black. There was no dark cloud hovering over me anymore, but only because that darkness was now entirely and absolutely me.
