Hanan called out to John to stop, to call it off, that she didn’t want to do this anymore. But the music was louder here, and she felt her whole body vibrate with the noise thumping out of the massive speakers hanging from the rafters above the dance floor.

John was dancing with Rola now, or at least he was dancing, and Rola, jostled by the crowd, was looking around wildly, her hands clasped over her mouth. Hanan reached her just as John stopped, and put a hand on her elbow.

“Rola!” Hanan yelled, “Are you OK?”

Rola shook her head and took her hand away from her mouth long enough to shout, “Beit al-mai? Beit al-mai?” She was sweating hard.

“What’s that?” John shouted.

“Bathroom,” Hanan shouted back. One of the few words she did know. She steered Rola away to the women’s bathroom in the back of the hall.

“Everyone out!” she yelled as she barged in the door with her cousin in tow, but there was only one girl standing in the tiny bathroom, applying lipstick in the mirror in front of the two stalls.

“Bitch,” the girl muttered, moving away and leaving.

“Just get out!” Hanan moved a trash can in front of the bathroom door. She turned around just in time to see her cousin kneeling before the toilet.

And then of course Hanan knew, and couldn’t believe she hadn’t understood it before. The sudden decision to come to America, the sickness of her first morning in America. Rola retched for several long minutes, then slumped down on the floor of the stall, looking stunned. Hanan dampened paper towels at the sink and, kneeling beside her, wiped her forehead, her neck and her mouth, and smoothed her hair into place with her other hand. Rola gazed up at her warily, and Hanan was again reminded of how much Rola resembled her mother.

“I need your help,” Rola said slowly in Arabic. Hanan understood and nodded.

Later that night, they sat up in Hanan’s bedroom, wearing pajamas and drinking hot tea. Mama, glad to see them come home early, had retired for the evening. They formulated a plan together, like conspirators in a plot that could not escape the confines of the room. After they’d settled on most of the details, Rola wept quietly. Hanan wasn’t sure if it was from relief or sadness.

“He was in college with me,” Rola spoke softly, in Arabic. “We graduated together. I knew it was a mistake but … I don’t know … I was stupid. And then I missed my period.”

“What did he say?” asked Hanan in faltering Arabic, the words sounding awkward to her ears, but her cousin did not seem to notice.