“No,” she said pointedly. “I will not call the police. I will not call anyone until I know how to best keep this child safe.”

I was relieved to hear her say this and hoped she was speaking truthfully. I’d been poisoned against trusting anyone in a uniform and didn’t know if I’d ever recover from that.

The women took off their shoes and tucked them into a closet along with their jackets. They changed into pajamas and took turns using the bathroom. Antonia filled a cup of water for her mother.

Then, without barricading any doors or standing guard over me, they slipped into the bedroom and left the door half open. I heard a click and the room went dark. Thankfully, Antonia had left a small lamp on at the far end of the living room so I could still see my surroundings. The silence grew long, and I convinced myself the women had fallen asleep.

I stared at the food left out for me and felt my stomach knot with hunger.

I wished I could look to my parents for guidance. With a nod, a slow blink, or a slight lowering of the eyebrows, they would remind me to offer a polite salaam or signal that I could accept a lemony Vzletnaya candy from a general. I longed for even a wordless cue now.

Should I?

I searched the silence for a reply but heard none. My stomach growled loudly, and I decided I needed to quiet it. I took in all the food that had been left for me, starting with the juice and finishing with the chocolate. I left only the pistachios because I couldn’t crack a shell without thinking of the evenings spent listening to my father tell me stories of the far corners of the world as he slid salted green nuts into my eager palm.

Madar, Padar. Please find a way to speak to me.

What would become of me in this apartment? Though I was not trapped here at gunpoint, I still felt like a caged animal. I heard my father singing along to a song on the radio, looking at me in a way that told me he wished I could feel the Sufi lyrics the way he did.

Why in prison do you choose to reside,

When the door to freedom is open wide?

Did that mean walking out the door of this apartment? I was too frightened of the unknown to do that.

I tiptoed to the bookshelf, which had only a small stack of books, a mug full of pens, and some folders and booklets. Curious, I took a closer look. The booklet had a picture of a carriage on it with a single word written in large font across the page—Oklahoma.