Aziza glanced at her mother as she drove her brown Volkswagen Rabbit on Interstate 10 toward New Orleans. Being frightened by the idea of flying alone from Tel Aviv and switching planes at JFK airport, Shokat had asked Aziza to meet her in New York, but that would have meant two extra days away from work and unnecessary expenses Aziza couldn’t afford, something her mother didn’t understand. And in a place very deep within her, Aziza had hoped that Shokat would have changed her mind, giving into her fears of travelling alone.
The meeting at the airport had been nice enough. Her mother reached out to her and held her tightly for a long time the way children embrace their mothers when they still don’t have the vocabulary to express their feelings. Aziza had wondered if her mother was just happy to have survived the flight by herself, but then she saw the tears in Shokat’s eyes. It was a combination of the two emotions, probably more of relief than love. She never did like doing anything alone. Aziza felt guilty for being so ambivalent toward her mother’s visit. She had yielded to Shokat’s hug grudgingly, returned the kisses on both cheeks politely.
Aziza’s rear view was obstructed with a heavy rectangular trunk. Shokat had brought everything she owned, Aziza thought, like children who cannot choose just one stuffed animal when getting ready to spend the night at Grandma’s. Shokat remained silent during the drive from the airport. Aziza’s face burned from...
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