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You frustrated, cold-hearted, son-of-a-bitch bastard! I shouted as I slapped his arms, his face—and hated him, for turning my daughter against me, for wanting to crush me, for being so good at it. He
didn’t move, just collected my blows like trophies. You deserve to lose everything! I shouted. You deserved to lose Roger, and Jonah, and your children; you deserve to lose Andi! You deserve to be alone, you pathetic, horrible, disgusting man!

Mommy! I heard Andi sob. Don’t hit Ahmad!

48

A BRILLIANT SOLUTION

The energy that had frenzied my limbs evaporated. The shame of what I’d done settled into my body. I left the room, I left my crying child.

Everything Ahmad said about me was true. I was selfish, I did think only about myself. I wanted Benny—he was right. It didn’t matter that I was incapable, it didn’t matter that we would crash and burn, and Andi would get hurt. It didn’t matter because I only thought about myself. Connecticut might be better for Andi—I couldn’t see how, but shouldn’t I have been willing to consider it? I was no better than my mother. My baby knew it now, she knew it; she’d made her choice. I could give up writing, I could give up men, but I couldn’t rid myself of my mother’s taint, which was
my
taint, which was an inability to love and be loved. There could be no new life for me—no Romei, no Romeo, no deus ex machina could arrive out of the blue to make everything, to make
me
better.

I pounded my bed with my palm. I wanted to hurt myself, rake an X across my chest, score my skin and scar it; I’d take pleasure in the hemorrhage, nothing could clot my hateful blood. I huddled into myself and sobbed.

Time passed, I didn’t know how much. I couldn’t unball myself. My eyes were “destroyed,” to use Dante’s phrase, my face a sodden wash. I became aware of a calm outside my door. A quiet, like the
silence after a child has left a room. I wrapped the silence around me, like a girl on the shore, wrapped in a towel, blue-lipped and reflective. I’d let my daughter see me scream and curse like a she-wolf, I’d let her see me attack Ahmad with my fists. Then she saw me walk away, defeated. I didn’t know which was worse.

Was I willing to give her up without a fight? I was not! Andi was mine, she was
mine
, the best, the only part of me!

I sat up, felt the chenille under my hand, the rag rug under my feet. Then stood by the door. Nothing.

I needed a plan. We had to
go
somewhere. I’d been in dreamland, never imagining that Andi and I might actually have to find a place to stay. We needed a place to stay, but where? Jeanette could take us for a day or two, but she had no guest room. Benny? We couldn’t stay with Benny. I could, at least, do my work anywhere, Romei’s money would support us for a while, half a year, even.

Rome! We could go to Rome! If I were there, Romei would have to publish, I’d make sure of it; Andi could go to my old school. For a semester, while I sorted things out. We could even stay, if we had to. I could meet all the new writers, maybe get a teaching gig—anything was possible!

I tiptoed across the living room to the study, scribbled a fax to Romei: Could we come to Rome, could we come
now
, maybe even today, Andi and I? It was an emergency, he shouldn’t delay, he should reply ASAP—then I went to find my daughter.

But Ahmad had beaten me to it.

I’m taking Andi some place where she’ll be safe. My lawyer will be in touch
.

Like a heroine in a romance novel, I fell in a dead faint.

•

When I came to, my cell phone was ringing. I sprang to the phone. I’d do anything! Admit I was selfish. Move to Connecticut. Become a lifelong celibate. Anything!

Yes! I said breathlessly.

Romei seems to think you’re in some distress. May I be of service?

Benny! My fax must have been more incoherent than I’d thought.

Yes, I whispered. Come over. Please.

Two minutes later, he was there.

49

TOPEKA

He’s crazy, I said, my face in my hands. He’s taken my baby!

Does she have a passport? Benny asked. He was sitting stiffly next to me on the couch.

What? I said, lifting my head, then felt my heart try to push its way through my chest. Oh God! I cried, and ran to my room, where I found her passport in my drawer.

Benny took my hand when I returned.

I don’t mean to scare you, but he could have gotten her another. Are you willing to take that risk? Though I’m not sure who can stop a father traveling with his daughter.

He’s not her father. He’s not her real father.

Benny looked surprised, but didn’t ask.

If there’s even a possibility they might disappear, you have to call the police.

The police? I said, withdrawing my hand. You’re kidding, right?

I looked mutely at Benny. He walked some steps away, mumbled into his phone.

I’m talking to a lawyer, he explained to me, his hand over the mouthpiece. He says that we can explain to a judge that Ahmad is not Andi’s natural father and get an injunction preventing him from taking her out of state. It only takes effect after it’s been served, though, so we’d have to find him before he left. Once we got her back, we could get a restraining order. Did I get that right, Marty?

Looking at me, he nodded.

It wasn’t that simple, I thought. Ahmad said his lawyer would be in touch. If he’d spoken to lawyers, he’d know this already. If he wanted her out of the state, they’d be there by now. If he wanted her out of the country, they’d be on a plane. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t!

He didn’t plan this, I murmured. Tink is here. Her suitcase. Her Nancy Drews.

It’s kidnapping, Shira. If Ahmad is not Andi’s natural or legal father, he has no right to take her out of the house without permission.

He always takes her out without permission.

This is different.

I can’t send the police after Ahmad! I mumbled. That would be crazy!

But you just said …

I can’t. He couldn’t.

Benny mumbled thanks into the phone, then came to sit with me.

I can’t think about this, I said, shaking my head.

You have to.

Andi’s fine, she has to be.
Duplicate passport, on a plane to Karachi, my daughter in
purdah.
Growing up without me, hating me, blaming me
.

You have to call him, Benny said.

He won’t answer, I murmured, looking at my hands. I tried.

Then leave him a message. Convince him to come back.

I hate him, I said. I never want to see him again.

He’s your friend, Benny said.

He’s not my friend, he’s never been my friend. He won’t pick up—I’ve tried.

Take my phone. Call him. He won’t recognize the number. And if he doesn’t pick up, leave a message.

I called him a pathetic, horrible man. I hit him, Benny! I said he deserved to lose Roger, he deserved to lose his sons.

No one deserves to lose a child, Benny said.

No, I said.

I sat a while, holding Benny’s hand, squeezing it.

That’s what I have to tell him, isn’t it? I asked.

Benny nodded.

I took his phone.

It went to voicemail.

I took a deep breath. The deepest possible breath.

Ahmad, I said. You need to bring our baby home. You’re scaring her—she can’t understand what’s happening. You can’t separate us, you can’t keep us apart. You can’t keep a child from her mother, no matter what you think of me. If you do this, you’ll be no better than Mirabella. Think about it:
Mirabella!
Think about what she’s done to you! Are you willing to do that to me, to bring more suffering like that into the world? You can’t do that to me, or Andi. You can’t do that and think you’re better than she is, or better than me. Andi needs her mommy. Oh, please, Ahmad! I feel like I’m bleeding to death. Bring her back to me!

I looked at Benny, my hands holding my mouth, as if to keep the hurt inside. He took the phone from my hand.

You did good, he said. You did real, real good.

I shook my head. I hadn’t. To melt that man’s heart I would have needed words of fire; all I had were words of stone.

I’d like to put my arm around you, Benny said, looking miserable, but I don’t think I should.

I looked up at him. Then I was crying into his chest, his hands stroking my hair, the line of my jaw. I don’t know if he moved to me or I to him, but we were at it again, Benny murmuring my name, I clawing at his buttons. As our clothes came off in a ritual stream to my bedroom, I knew that I didn’t know what I was doing, but I didn’t care: I might disappear, my insides might evaporate if not tamped down by Benny’s loving hands.

I tried to imagine my daughter, safely sleeping; I moved my body as expected, whispered Benny’s name, grateful for his tender mercies, thought of Esther’s madness when she lost
her
child, thought maybe my madness wasn’t so bad. As Benny rocked into me, I thought of flying, of being lifted despite myself—as in that Celan fragment,
through the nothingness we reached each other
—of flying across the abyss, as if toward him, naked like a newborn, a flying girl, like Esther’s flying girl.

As Benny moaned, I stared past his shoulder at his skullcap,
Mother Mary blue, on my clock radio, the clock blinking twelve noon, twelve noon, though it was well past midnight.

Two flying girls. Two girls in Romei’s mirror, one reflecting the other.

Oh my God, I said, pushing Benny off of me. No! Jesus!

Shira! he half shouted, his coital dream cracked open like a cantaloupe.

You knew! I said, staring at him, horrified. All along, you knew!

One flying girl, there had only ever been one flying girl
.

With the precision of film rolling backward, the pieces shot back into place, the shattering of my life became whole.

PART SIX

TEST

50

THE FLYING GIRL

I tried to get Benny to leave, but he wouldn’t. I accused him of being Romei’s patsy, his puppet, his hired thug. Romei was bankrolling
Gilgul
, wasn’t he? Benny would do anything for that magazine! He’d fuck me to get information about my fucking so Romei could put it in a scene where he fucks his wife! Romei was a sick bastard, they both were! Benny had to get the hell out of my house, but he wouldn’t.

When I know you’re okay, he said, holding the sheet up to his long, skinny chest, reminding me that I was naked before him, flailing and shouting.

When you’re okay
. When Andi was home, is what he meant. Andi!

I sunk back onto the edge of the bed.

Shira, Benny said, putting his hand, always warm, on my shoulder. I shook him off.

Get out of my bed, I said. I don’t care where you go, just get out of my bed.

I love you, he said.

Liar, I said, but he didn’t move, so I grabbed the nearest item of clothing, which was his shirt, and slammed the door behind me, focused my rage on Romei. I wrote him a fax in big black letters:
Let me guess!
I wrote.
The great Romei, the ever glorious, ever victorious Romei, wants to be a superhero and give the daughter back to the mother. Only the mother doesn’t care and the daughter won’t go willingly—he knows this because Benny’s told him so—so he uses story, the daughter’s medium, to capture her attention, to try to steal her empathy. He uses her words, her images to bring the story closer, to convince her she’s “just like” her mother. His calculus is simple: daughter forgives mother, mother forgives Romei, no one has to repent, everyone sleeps cozy at night. Right? Wrong!