And I noted I was wearing pink socks and small, yellowshoes.?Hello,? I said, hearing my voice for the first time with my accent. Ipushed out of the stall and stumbled to a mirror and saw only a beautifulArab woman smiling back at me and mimicking my every move.After that, the next few days passed quickly, as if my body was under thecontrol of something else, even though I never felt like I did not havefree will. I just moved, and went through routines, and went to classes,and dressed and ate and did my face with makeup. I discovered I could doall these things without a thought, and that if I concentrated, I couldpull memories ofNadia forward, and recognize faces and voices.That is when I began to notice other people changing. The week beforeThanksgiving I saw Megan and her boyfriend Charlie on campus early on aSunday morning. We exchanged pleasant small talk for a moment, thenCharlie excused himself to leave to the bathroom. Megan suddenly appearedconfused, and lost her balance. I. How can I tolerate seeing my mother being exploited and humiliated like that? I was just protective of my mother. Still, nobody cared. Even the two other women in the truck supported their disgusting degenerate men.Eventually, the truck drove away. My mom and I simply stood by the roadside, waiting for another ride. It was dark, and we were in the middle of nowhere in a forest. There was nothing we could do but wait optimistically. Fortunately, I had my mobile that I could use as a torch.I had conserved its battery to make sure it lasted through our long journey. I could have checked on the internet for a nearby village, but there was no network. Two-three hours went by as we waited. We ate some of the food that we were carrying.Slowly our optimism for getting a ride faded. It was close to eleven when mom started feeling sleepy. “We will not get a ride now. We have to sleep here,” mom said. I agreed to what she said since I, too, was tired. Sleeping on the highway was risky.What if.
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