But somehow she understood the price, and not just in dollars. Things seemed lock-step in America, she said, even regimented. Saad translated her words. "It is true, they have more freedom here. But in other ways, the people here, all they do is work.... There is no fun, only work. People are like machines here. Is this freedom?"
Still, she envied how easily American children could make their feelings known and how girls could act like boys: be tough, independent, aggressive.
She ran through Saad's banquet hall, kicking a soccer ball. He taught her how to ride his son's rickety black 10-speed bike, and she fell in love with it. She pedaled furiously around his neighborhood, her \o7hijab\f7 flapping, the yellow tubes in her nostrils straining with each breath, blood trickling out.
"Please, little girl, slow down!" Saad shouted. What if she fell and did more damage to her face? He took the bike away.
It was futile. The next day, she sneaked it out -- and flew off again.
She grew tired of his program: the English, the Koran, the home schooling. She wanted to sleep in, skateboard, ride the bike.
Saad finally sent her to spend a weekend with Theresa Moussa, an Egyptian who had come to America as a girl. She worked for UCLA, helping the medical center with its Arabic-speaking patients. She had been interpreting for Marwa.
A divorcee with a son in college, Theresa was traditional enough to revere her parents and try to please them, but she was also strong and independent. She had flowing, black hair and long legs, and she didn't try to hide them. She wore makeup and high heels, form-fitting skirts and blouses that showed her arms.
At Theresa's house, Marwa walked with a bounce. They laughed and shared secrets. Marwa could watch all the TV she wanted and help herself to anything in the refrigerator. She and Theresa went to a beauty shop together and had their nails done in pink.
Marwa asked Theresa if she believed in God.
Yes, Theresa said.
Marwa noticed her crucifixes and her painting of the Virgin Mary. She must be from a different strain of Islam, Marwa thought. "So, you are Sunni, right?" she asked.
"No, I am Christian," Theresa said. "Coptic Christian."
One night, the two of them sat on Theresa's black leather coach and watched a movie. Marwa draped her arms around Theresa and buried her head in Theresa's chest. They both fell asleep.
Near midnight, Theresa woke. She gently awakened Marwa.
