Ralph struggled to hold the grip of his steering wheel as he drove towards his parents’ mansion. Thoughts of how he would break the news to his casino magnate father, who was featured annually in Forbes Magazine, kept him up throughout the previous night. The wipers were constantly oscillating, but the rain rushed towards the windshield like shooting stars. He interlocked his green eyes for a moment with Benazir, who was in the passenger seat, and gained a surge of confidence that would ultimately help him muster the courage to tell his father about his profound love for her. He thought he had experienced natural beauty when he visited Iceland to witness the Northern Lights, but he was clearly wrong; this young woman had big beaver eyes, a rich sandy complexion that would bring you to the Sahara Desert in Egypt, and a radiant smile that made the stars in the summer nights of August jealous. “Hey, try not to lose hope. I will make things right today. After he sees what you’re carrying, I am sure he will accept our relationship,” said Ralph.

Benazir looked out the window to see the flash of lightening and understood the harsh reality: Ralph’s father, along with being a devout Catholic, was a man who put morals on a pedestal. He would definitely not approve of a child out of wedlock, let alone her foreign Islamic culture. For the past 20 years, Ralph’s parents were living in a luxurious neighborhood in Southampton, New York. She couldn’t fathom why Ralph’s father would make an exception for his son, especially for someone as poor a background as her.

After faintly pressing the doorbell, Ralph went back down the staircase and stood on the concrete ground next to the grass where miniature USA flags were planted, as his entire outfit was drenched from the storm. His parents took their time to open the door, but they came out with huge smiles across their faces. Ralph reached towards their feet to seek their blessing, a tradition he learned from Benazir’s culture. “Hey champ, what are you doing down there? Come on inside. Your mother just made your favorite chicken pot pie, and the Patriots game just started.”

“Yes, hurry up sweetie, you’re going to catch pneumonia if you stay out there any longer,” said his mother.

“Umm hey how’s it going guys. I will be up there in a minute, but before that I wanted you guys to meet someone special today.” He looked towards the car and gestured to Benazir to come forward. His father scratched his gray-haired head and lines formed between his mother’s eyes. Benazir walked up to her love as he took a deep breath and said to his parents, “This is the girl of my dreams, Benazir. I have decided to make her my life companion. I know she doesn’t wear the cross, but we are happy together.” The father took one glare at Benazir’s enlarged stomach and, without uttering a word, went back inside.

“Sweetie, when did this happen?” said Ralph’s mother.

“What can I say Ma, for the past three years we just kept it to our ourselves. How long do you think before he’ll forgive us?”

“I am not sure, but you should leave for now. Only God knows what he’ll do if you stay longer. By the way, she looks very much like a diamond.”

Through the open window you could hear the game at max volume. The couple put their heads down as they slowly walked back to the car and drove away.

Two years later, out of the blue, Ralph visited his father with Benazir, this time he brought his 18-month old son, Cyrus. Surprisingly, his father opened the door, but his arms were crossed. The sight of Cyrus should have made his heartrate increase a little, but he maintained a stern face. “Father, you must have forgiven us by now. We desperately need your help. Benazir’s mother was recently diagnosed with an Astrocytoma and immediately needs to go through brain surgery, but the costs are weighing heavy on us. We will do anything to earn the amount from you,” begged Ralph. The father gave it a thought, and motioned them to come inside.

“Don’t fool yourself thinking that I have finally forgiven you. First, I will put you through a test. If you pass, I will forget that you ever married someone like that and gladly give you a small loan of a half million dollars,” said his father. There was dark, morbid opera music playing from the Spotify app on the desktop screen as they entered the house. It was the type of music that one would listen to when someone was recovering from a heartbreak. They passed by the gaming room where garbage was scattered everywhere, along with empty bottles of Jack Daniels, and the lights were awfully dim. They then stopped at the living room where his father began to explain the test. “Look, its simple. I am going to give you two options and you can decide how you want to go from there. I am leaving a blank check with my signature on this table counter. You can have it if you play along with the game: you must either sever all ties with this woman or make her change her religion to ours. If you aren’t interested in my art of the deal, I am sure you know where the door is.”

“But father, this is absolute insanity! There must be an alternative, please reconsider.”

“Son, don’t you remember anything from Sunday school? Did Abraham question God when he was asked to sacrifice Isaac?”

Ralph pressed Benazir’s hand hard and leaned in to kiss her soft left cheek. He looked towards her and tried to mouth some words, but nothing came out. She stood in tears. Knowing

that his adamant father wouldn’t change his mind, Ralph still dropped to the floor on his knees and folded his hands, pleading that there has to be another way.

The father ignored his son and walked next door to the bar for a drink.

“Hey, what the hell is going on here? Why is Benazir crying?” said Ralph’s mother abruptly, as she moved towards Benazir to comfort her.

“Our son is going to learn how to be a man today. Nothing to worry about.”

“Listen, stop this nonsense right now. I will not tolerate this kind of behavior in this household.”

The father beamed his eyes at his wife and told her, “I said there’s nothing to worry about. Do you not understand me, woman?!” He grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her along with him, leaving the young couple to themselves.

Ralph looked intensely at the symbol of their love: little Cyrus; he was just sitting on the couch innocently with his toothless smile. The clock on the wall of the living room read 9 pm. It was past the baby boy’s bedtime so he yawned and crawled to his mother’s legs. Benazir’s black eyeliner was dripping down her face, but she managed to rock him back and forth until he went to sleep. Ralph began to pace the floor, as he opened the first few buttons of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. He felt as if he was in a checkmate position. The rooks and bishops had managed to trap him. There was only one way to continue this game: accept his inevitable defeat. If Ralph’s mother had not still been alive, he would’ve enjoyed plunging a dagger through his heartless father’s throat right now.

Ralph’s hands were trembling as the thoughts of losing Benazir ran through his mind. She wiped some of her tears and told Ralph, “You are the key to the lock in my heart. Without you, I will be a sailor in the deep waters without a map. I will readily conform to your culture, my love.”

“Before getting married, we both vowed that we’ll stay true to ourselves forever. Nothing is going to change that.”

His father walked back inside with a lazy gait. Ralph finally sat down on the living room chair and let out a huge sigh of stress. There were a few glasses and jug of water resting on the table. He poured out some water for himself. After drinking the refreshing cool liquid, he walked towards the check while looking straight into his father’s devilish eyes. As Ralph reached for the piece of paper, which would ultimately decide Benazir’s mother’s fate, he had a glimpse of the tattoo of Benazir’s name on his left hand. He began to reminisce of the sting that he felt from the needle, but nothing could compare to what it would feel like to break his bond with her. He approached Benazir and put one hand on her cheek, while using the other to brush back her long jet-black hair that covered her face. “Listen, I hope your mother’s surgery goes well. I must do what’s best for the both us. Promise me that you’ll take good care of our son,” said Ralph as he laughed miserably through his tears. The check slipped from Benazir’s fragile hands as he gave it to her.

“You don’t have to do this. We’ll think of other ways to arrange the money. We could sell all of our jewelry or I could change –” said Benazir, but Ralph put a finger over his mouth, shaking his head.

When Benazir attempted to pick up her son, the boy became very difficult to handle. His tiny nails left a small mark on her arm. She eventually got a grasp of her son and held him tightly to her chest. Before leaving the room, Benazir turned around to let Ralph look at his son one last time. The boy’s arms were flailing in all directions and his bawling was deafening as he noticed his father standing on the opposite side of the room. Ralph wanted to comfort him, but he didn’t have the power anymore to move his drained body. When Benazir and Cyrus left the room, the instrumental being played earlier had come to a soft decrescendo.

 

Robby:

Even without a gory ending like you had in the draft, this story still feels preposterous. The characters are cardboard cutouts. It would seem like an allegory of Islamophobia in America, except that you fill it with so many proper names and specific details that it does become realistic to an extent. It has an exaggerated, bleak, noir realism. And, to your credit, you imagine the scenes richly. A wealth of resourceful metaphors, such as the chess game and the comparison of Benazir’s skin to the Sahara, give the story an extravagance that keeps our imagination working. I especially like the long “shot” (it feels like a movie) of Cyrus on the couch as his grandmother’s fate and his future culture/religion are decided. However, while you give us a feast for our imaginations, I don’t think the story quite rises to the seriousness of its theme, probably because the father is so automatic in his disapproval and because Ralph dons and Benazir doffs Islamic culture so “readily.” There is no build up of dramatic tension—admittedly a difficult thing to achieve; instead, there is a flash cut between the two knocking-on-the-parents’-door scenes. And mysterious Benazir from the desert can decide to become a bible-thumping, football-whooping American in a flash. It’s also unclear how the father could possibly enforce his ban on Islam once the couple has cashed the check. It seems to me that the view that culture is like apparel that decorates the mercurial individual and can be changed with a single decision is really, despite anti-cultural-appropriation backlash, more of the American view.

[A-]