The Elephant in the Room

Holly Goldberg Sloan was born in Ann Arbor, Michigan, and spent her childhood living in Holland; Istanbul, Turkey; Washington, D.C.; Berkeley, California; and Eugene, Oregon. After graduating from Wellesley College and spending some time as an advertising copywriter, she began writing family feature films, including Angels in the Outfield and Made in America. She is the author of the New York Times best sellers Counting by 7s and Short, among other novels.

1.

What Sila Tekin would remember about that afternoon was that she had been wearing her favorite shirt. It was nothing fancy. Just red with white stripes and blue stitching, but it fit perfectly, not too tight and not too loose. And it wasn t only comfortable; it was lucky, because she had been wearing the shirt when she found a twenty-dollar bill on the sidewalk one afternoon while walking home from school. Sila had also bowled her highest score in August, and done well on a very hard math test while wearing the garment. Another time when she had on the shirt she d spotted a two-foot-tall speckled owl sleeping high up in a tree in Hendricks Park. That was amazing.

So the T-shirt was special. There was no question about it.

At least not until Thursday, September 6, when Sila came through the front door of the apartment to find her parents in the kitchen. Her mom and dad were never there when she got home from school; they were always at work. Her mom s eyes were red and puffy from crying and her nose looked like it was leaking water. Sila asked in Turkish, which was the language she spoke at home, What s going on?

Her father put his hand on his daughter s shoulder. She could feel tension even in his fingertips. We ve had some bad news.

Sila s ears started to buzz. One of her grandparents must have died. Her voice was shaky as she asked: What s happened? You have to tell me!

Sila s mother, Oya, looked as if she was going to speak, only nothing came out except a long, dry exhale that had choking sounds mixed in. But then her father managed, Your mother is going on a trip. She ll be back soon. Very soon.

A trip? Why?

Legal things. Fixing paperwork.

Sila looked at her mother. Where are you going?

To Turkey.

Sila s eyes moved from her mother to her father. They weren t sick. No one had died. Health wasn t the issue. Sila stared at her parents and could see they were trying to seem calm, but it looked as if their heads were going to explode.

I don t understand. So what s the bad news?

Her mother wiped her nose. It s immigration. There is a problem.

Sila s parents went on to explain that Oya needed to return to the country she left as an adult and get a replacement for a document that had never been properly executed. Without fixing the situation, Oya was facing a court proceeding and even deportation. So she just needed to correct a clerical mistake. They had a plan.

It didn t sound to Sila like that big of a deal. Hadn t her mother admitted she missed where she was born? Couldn t going back to Turkey be a good thing? Didn t Oya speak all the time about longing to see Sila s grandparents? Wasn t she always saying she missed the bread and the cheese and the tomatoes she d grown up with?

But this trip was forced on her. Maybe, Sila thought, anything that you are told to do isn t as good as when you make the choice yourself.

Everyone wants to be the boss of their own life.

Sila had been born in Oregon. She was an American citizen. Her parents had lived in Eugene for almost fifteen years, but they were Turkish citizens. In Istanbul her mother had studied to be a librarian, but once they came to America she had taken work in the housekeeping department of the most expensive hotel on main street. She cleaned rooms five days a week, and if she was lucky, got overtime for a sixth day. That job had ended after fourteen years only last week. So much was in turmoil.

These were the facts: Sila s mother would be gone for eight days two Sundays with six days sandwiched in between. Before Oya left, she cooked her husband&r