It’s been two weeks since I left Bangladesh. I feel so free here in New York. Priya and Greg have taken me to a Broadway show and to a few museums in Manhattan. Everything is so beautiful here.
A smile wouldn’t leave my face until this afternoon, when I saw my picture on a lamppost in Queens today while picking Vonetta up from a play date. My parents were looking for me. I couldn’t believe them! I’m sure they know why I’ve run away, so why chase me? I’m nineteen years old. I can take care of myself!
That evening while eating dinner with Priya, Greg, and Vonetta the doorbell rang. Greg opened it to reveal two elderly Bengali parents, both with salt and pepper hair, the woman wearing a green and yellow Sari and the man a blue shirt and gray slacks.
“I am here to take my daughter Sharmina back home where she belongs. Her husband to be, Samir, awaits her,” said the man in a thick Bengali accent.