They’ll Take My Heart Over My Dead Body

My parents never saw my good grades. They never saw me at all.

Soon, my mother found me a job at a fast-food restaurant. “Work hard and send the money home on time,” she said. “Zahra’s tuition isn’t cheap.”

It was always about Zahra. She didn’t see my face, pale with menstrual cramps, or the community college textbooks I kept hidden under my bed.

The fast-food job was exhausting. I picked up a second job at a convenience store just to make ends meet. But I never gave up, saving every penny I could to take online classes at a community college.

I hoped one day I could reapply to a real university.

But one day I got sick and was a day late sending my wages home. My parents barged into my tiny rented room.

They saw the laptop on my desk, the online course portal open on the screen.

My father kicked me hard in the stomach. “You dare hide money from us? You still think you’re going to school?”

My mother picked up a chair and smashed my laptop to smithereens. “You’re trash! Stop dreaming about college!”

I knelt on the floor, begging her to stop.

“Please, Mom… I bought that computer with borrowed money…”

My father slapped me again. “Still talking back? So what if she smashed it! You should be spending your money on what matters!”

They destroyed my computer and took every last cent of cash I had hidden away.

As they left, my mother added, “Instead of wasting time, you should get a third job. Zahra wants to sign up for a yoga class.”

I had nothing left.

They only ever thought about Zahra. They never wondered how I was supposed to survive with no money.

Once, while I was stocking shelves at the convenience store, a rack collapsed. It crushed my arm, which was now bleeding profusely.

It was my birthday. I’d used an advance on my paycheck to buy myself a caramel macchiato and a small cake from Starbucks.

Just as I sat down, my parents walked in with Zahra.

They were dressed nicely, out for a day of shopping. They clearly hadn’t expected to see me.

My father, Farid, exploded. “You ungrateful leech! Hiding money from us again!”

My mother lunged at me, grabbing my hair and wailing. “You’re out here drinking Starbucks while your father is on the brink of death!”

They were in their Sunday best. Zahra wore a pretty dress like a princess.

And there I was, in my dirty work uniform, my hair a mess, a bloody bandage wrapped around my arm.

I clutched my coffee and cake, trying to take one more bite before they snatched it away.

It was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted.

I saw Zahra pinch her nose and turn away in disgust.

That only made my parents angrier.

My mother grabbed my hands while my father snatched the hot coffee and poured the scalding liquid over my head.

“Drink up! I’ll give you something to drink!”

They left with Zahra. Before they walked out, my mother rifled through my pockets and took the money I had set aside for my medical bills.

I sat there, sticky coffee dripping from my hair, and watched them go.

They looked like a real family.

The Starbucks barista refused to take my money and tried to give me a new drink. I just shook my head and limped out into the rain.

On the screen, my memory faded as my younger self disappeared into the downpour.

The neural courtroom was dead silent. My parents shifted uncomfortably, avoiding the judge’s gaze. Zahra kept her head down, looking at no one.