The Final Chapter

I see Ama waiting for me. She is crouched over crying. I run to her with the little energy I have left after the long journey that I have just traveled. When I reach her arms, I squeeze her with all my might. Memories of popped corn, wishful gossip, and braided hair fill my mind and warm my body. She smells like freshly sown earth and jasmine spices, making me feel like I am floating on clouds. I pull back and look into her eyes, brown like mine. They look like broken glass that has been broken for so long, finally starting to piece itself together again.

She whispers in a soft voice, “Lakshmi, you are home.”

These words are the last straw. I start sobbing. I have not cried since the happiness house, when Harish moved away. I have stayed strong for so long. Men have come and gone, and so have friends. I picture everyone who has helped me through this tough time: Monica, Shahanna, Harish, Anita, and the Street Boy. I want to forget most of the things that happened, but if it weren’t for my friends, I would be dead.

I look over to my brother. He was grown so much. I left him as babbling baby, but now he is standing on his own. I was scared that he would not remember me because I have been gone for so long, but I can tell by the look in his eyes that he does.

He is so innocent, from his messy hair to his dirty trousers. If he ever visits a happiness house in his life, I will teach him a lesson.

Then I see him: my stepfather, the man who sold me away for a handful of rupees and a basket of goods. Everything about him disgusts me, from his greasy beard to his dirty gambling suit to his cracked loafers. I feel anger boiling inside me. My ears are hissing with steam.

He reaches out his hand, and shows me a green cucumber plant.

“I thought you sold my cucumbers,” I say surprised.

He says, “Lakshmi, I am sorry. I grew these for you because what I did was not right.”

I came home thinking that I would never forgive my stepfather. He put me through this whole mess. But now I look at him and see past the ugly beard and suit, and see genuinely sorry eyes. I take the cucumber and nod at him, as a way of saying thanks.

I then look at our hut. I see the dirty rags patching up the holes in the walls, and the roof. I see a roof. And not just any roof, but a tin roof. I look back at my family and smile.

I can’t wait to resume my normal life; I can’t wait to go to school and help Ama cook and tend the rice paddies. I can’t wait to see Krishna and Geeta. And most of all, I can’t wait to never see that happiness house ever again.