She looks toward her mother for a last sign of protest, then picks up her suitcase and heads to the door. The suitcase is heavy; she cannot make a quick exit like Leigh did: she struggles to hold the door open while hauling her suitcase through. Fiaz appears behind her, and this time she accepts his help. He descends first with her suitcase, and she follows with her bag.

She is halfway down the stairs when she hears her mother cry, “Tahera, wait.”

Nafeesa’s footsteps sound behind her, but she continues down the stairs and out the building entrance—Fiaz holds the door open for her—into the cold San Francisco night.

“Thank you.” She takes her suitcase back from Fiaz. It’s a stroller; she pulls the handle out, then waits for her mother to join her.

Nafeesa shivers as soon as she steps out onto the street—she has on only her thin sweater.

“Go back, Ammi, it’s cold,” Tahera says, but her mother appears too dazed to respond.

The three stand by the entrance to Seema’s building, like actors who have forgotten their lines. Tahera nods to Fiaz—she wants him to leave, she knows her mother will say nothing in his presence. “I’ll be able to find a taxi myself, Allah Hafiz.”

“Good night.” He accepts his dismissal politely.

He extends his hand to Nafeesa, who returns a squeeze. “Aunty, tell Seema to call me.”

He turns and runs lightly down the street, leaving Tahera alone with her mother.

And still her mother says nothing. Even a reprimand would be welcome. Tahera is bitter: her mother has chosen Seema. The prodigal daughter has returned, and the long-dutiful one is to be turned out for misbehavior, without even a chance to explain herself. Seema has stolen her mother as well. She tells herself she cannot forgive her sister, even if it means she cannot ask for forgiveness herself.

There should be taxis around the corner, two blocks away, and she begins dragging her suitcase in that direction. But first she must, she will, say goodbye—this could be the last time she sees her mother alive. She will not let herself be cheated of this moment too.

She turns around, sees Nafeesa following her. Tahera waits till her mother catches up.

They walk to the sound of suitcase wheels rumbling over the uneven pavement and the slap of Nafeesa’s slippers against her feet. The street is dark except for dull light bleeding out of a few lit doorways and bright white halos under the occasional streetlamps. When will her mother say something? Under one of the halos, Tahera allows herself a quick glance. Nafeesa’s blank gaze is on the pavement, as though mesmerized by the patterns there. She’s accompanying Tahera mindlessly, stopping when she stops, stepping off the pavement to cross the street when Tahera does. Her mother has escaped to some other world, become lost there.