“Can you believe Esmerelda is wearing that dress? It’s much too tight,” said my mother before Esmerelda came over and kissed her on both cheeks. On and on like this, and then eating then singing then dancing, first the older women then the younger ones.

Khadija came up to us and kissed my mother and then me on both cheeks. She had her hair pulled back in a thick braid and wore a ruffly pink dress that made her look like an overgrown doll. I introduced her to Ginna, who smiled and said, “Marhaba. You look very pretty, Khadija.”

“Thank you. So do you.” Khadija looked embarrassed, and though she stared at her feet I could tell she was flattered.

“Are you going to dance?” asked Ginna.

“She hates to dance,” I said, trying to spare Khadija having to explain.

“Why don’t we all dance together?” Ginna said. At first Khadija looked down and didn’t say anything, but then, to my surprise, she nodded. Ginna and I got up and we both held Khadija’s hands as we walked toward the front of the room to where the women were dancing. I could feel the eyes on me as we joined in their circle, but I danced like the rest of them, nothing flashy, no show-off shaking. Ginna danced conservatively too, as though she were also from our village and had been doing this forever. I had told Ginna about Khadija before and she had felt sorry for her, which is probably why she was so nice to her now, watching her the whole time and telling her what a good dancer she was. It was nice to see Khadija smiling and her eyes laughing.

As we danced, I looked to see who was in the band and Fadi winked at me. He graduated from my school last year and we used to hang out together, but in front of my family I pretend I don’t know him more than to say a formal hello. I looked at Lina, who was trying to tell me something with gestures, which is why I didn’t notice when Khadija’s father stepped into our group and grabbed Khadija.

“Slut,” he said to Ginna, loud enough that the other women could hear him, but not loud enough that the people who were not dancing could hear. “How dare you lay a hand on my daughter.”

Ginna had stopped dancing and was staring at him. “Fuck you,” she said.

“Uncle ...” I started to say.

“Don’t you dare talk to me,” he said, turning toward me. “Don’t dirty your family with this person.” He spat and looked back at Ginna. “Don’t you ever get near my daughter again.”

Khadija looked as though she would crumble with humiliation as her father dragged her off. I felt a knife go through me.