RECOMMENDED READING
The Royal Abduls. BY RAMIZA SHAMOUN KOYA
READ Fiction AN EXCERPT | Forest Avenue Press | May 2020
They got into the car after Amina had moved a stack of papers, fliers, and books from the passenger seat. He sat and buckled himself in. “Hari is from Guyana,” Omar said as they drove toward home. “Do you know where that is?” “South America?” Amina said. He hadn’t thought she would know, and they sat in silence for a little longer. “He’s Indian, though, right?” Amina asked. Omar nodded. “I had a friend from Tobago once,” she said. He turned to look at her, not wanting to say anything that might stop her, but that seemed to be all. “Chachi?” he said. “Sometime do you think 68
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you can help me with a project? When you don’t have too much work?” “Is it your dinosaur project?” His mom had obviously relayed the cover story. “Not exactly,” he said. “I’ll show you when we get home.” But it took a while, because first Amina concentrated on making him dinner. He said it didn’t matter and suggested hopefully that a pizza would be easy, but she insisted that he needed real, homecooked food even though she admitted she didn’t really know how to cook. He decided that it was good for her to learn, and so didn’t mention that most nights lately his mom was so tired she just heated up old
leftovers from the freezer or made him pasta with butter, which he usually ate alone in front of the TV. Amina pulled some things out of the cabinets and looked at various pots and pans, and opened and closed drawers with an air of purpose. He left her there and went to his room, closing the door but leaving the Keep Out sign unhung.
