AMIRA WAS DIGGING through obscure engineering journals online when there was a knock at the door. Jesus Christ, they were already bugging her? Unless, maybe Duncan was back?
She opened the door. It wasn’t Duncan, but Barrington.
“Sorry to bother you, but we’re having a bit of a situation out there. I think you need to come . . .”
What now? She followed Barrington out to the family room where she found Sameer and Travis on either side of a teary-faced Zahra.
Amira rushed to her sister and knelt on the floor in front of her. “Zahra, Squish, what’s wrong?” She took her sisters hands.
Her sister sniffled and choked back another sob before speaking. “Maddie’s not coming to sleep over.”
“Oh no. Sweetie, I’m sorry. But that’s okay, you guys can plan a sleepover another time, right? Is she not feeling well?”
“That’s not it, Amira,” Sameer said. He had his arm around Zahra’s shoulder, but she couldn’t miss the fury in his eyes.
“Why, then?” Amira asked Zahra.
“She texted me. She said her dad didn’t want her sleeping at a Muslim’s house.”
Amira stared blankly at her baby sister.
“He said people like us are what’s wrong with Canada,” Zahra continued. “He told her Maddie wasn’t allowed to be friends with terrorists.”
Her heart was pounding and her knees gave out as her bottom hit the floor. “She really wrote that?”
Travis was holding Zahra’s phone and handed it to Amira. She read the series of texts. In the terrible grammar of a ten-year-old, Maddie Galahad relayed everything her father had told her, calling Zahra a terrorist and much worse. It was vile. How could a child say this to another child?
Amira squeezed her eyes shut. They were just words. She could feel her heart racing, but she needed to collect herself. Mind spinning, she screen-captured the messages and forwarded the images to herself before deleting them from her sister’s account. She didn’t want Zahra to ever see those disgusting messages again. She put the phone on the floor. Once she could be sure she wouldn’t completely lose it, Amira took Zahra’s hands again and looked at the sad face belonging to the person she loved more than anyone in the world.
“I’m sorry, Zahra. I guess Maddie and her father aren’t as nice as we thought they were. But they don’t know the truth about us, right? Remember, we talked about this before. Some people just don’t understand Muslims because they don’t know any of us. But it’s their loss. Maddie’s giving up the chance to have the most awesome friend in the world because she can’t look past her prejudices.”
Zahra sniffled. “I know, Amira. But it was just a sleepover. Mum bought popcorn and purple nail polish. We were going to watch that ballet movie.”
“Tell you what, the boys here have to practise tonight for their competition, so how about I come sleep over in your room tonight. I can do your nails, and I’ll watch the movie with you. Maybe we’ll even make some cookies. Does that sound good?”
Zahra’s forehead wrinkled, then she nodded. Amira relaxed. “Okay. Let me get some work done on my paper, then I’ll come up for dinner and we’ll start our sleepover. Okay?”
“Okay,” Zahra said before taking her phone and slowly walking up the stairs.
“Shit.” Amira fell backwards on the floor as soon as her sister was gone and lay there with her hands over her face. It was just words. Images flitted through her mind, and she shoved them away with the crumb of strength she was able to muster.
“Poor Zahra,” Barrington said from the armchair behind her.
She ran her hand over her hair. “Where’s Duncan?”
“He should be home soon,” Travis said. “I guess he’ll be here empty-handed.”
Amira sat up. “Maddie Galahad is ten years old. Where the hell would she get crap like that anyway? She was out with Zahra and me all day when we went to the ballet, and now suddenly she’s Islamophobic?”
“Obviously her father,” Sameer said. “And maybe Ryan didn’t know you were Muslim when he agreed to the ballet.”
But Duncan knew. Did he also know his brother was a bigot? That little Maddie would parrot everything Daddy said?
Another wave of nausea took hold. She gritted her teeth. “I need to speak to Duncan.”
“Duncan doesn’t think that way,” Travis said. “His brother might, but you have to understand they’re from a really tiny town. There’s not a lot of diversity out there.”
“No.” Amira stood up. “No. I am so done with giving excuses to people who treat us like shit. If they can’t get their heads out of their own asses long enough to realize we are real people, with real feelings, then I don’t have to waste any more of my emotional effort to try to understand them.”
The side door opened, and heavy footsteps came down the stairs. Duncan was back.
“Amira, good. We need to talk.”
She looked at him. “Yeah? Go ahead, I’d love to hear what you have to say for yourself.”
“Um”—he looked around at the rest of his quartet sitting in the family room—“can we go to your room?”
“No. I want your friends to hear this. After all, they were kind enough to comfort my crying sister after your niece called her a terrorist.”
“What?!” he said.
Amira stepped closer to Duncan. “Your niece called my sister a terrorist. Here, look.” She cued up the screen-shots on her phone and handed it to Duncan. His face whitened as he read them.
He lowered his hand and took a step backwards, hitting the wall behind him. “Shit . . . I’m sorry, Amira.” He paused. “What the hell . . . I’m going to have more words with Ryan about this. It’s what I wanted to talk to you about. When I got to Omemee, Ryan said he didn’t want Maddie to go, and it didn’t take long to figure out why.”
She took her phone back from him. “And . . .”
He looked at his friends again, who were still watching silently. “Can’t we talk about this alone?”
“No. I think we all need to hear this. After all, your group is quite multicultural—you have blacks, browns, and . . .” She turned to Travis.
“Just white. Half English, half French-Canadian,” he replied.
“I’m not racist, Amira. You of all people should know that,” Duncan said, voice rising.
She threw her right hand in the air. “Why me of all people? Because you were willing to have sex with me? People like you are never racist when it means getting some hot Indian ass! We wrote the Kama Sutra, you know. Tantric sex, that’s all Indian. I don’t blame you for wanting some of that action. You must have been over the moon when you discovered I’m not exactly vanilla in the bedroom.” She stepped even closer to him, fists tight, boiling with rage. “But when it comes to letting your kids associate with us, on the other hand . . .”
“Amira, it was my brother who didn’t want Maddie to come! Not me. I had nothing to do with it! I just got into a big row with him over this. I was furious. I’m not like him.”
Amira closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. “I know you’re not,” she said finally, between clenched teeth. “But I don’t really know who you are either. I’ve only known you for a few weeks, and I didn’t know your family felt this way.”
Duncan was silent a few breaths. “I’ve always been the black sheep in my family. One of the only liberals. I’ve tried to get them to see things my way, and I try to be a better influence for Maddie.” He paused. “I’ve performed with all types of people, and so many of my students are from different cultures. Even refugees. I’m not like my family, I promise, please . . .”
“But you knew they felt this way?”
He looked down at his feet. “Yes, I knew. It’s a small town, most of my family drank that right-wing Kool-Aid years ago. Ryan’s not fond of all my gay friends either. But he doesn’t say that stuff in front of Maddie.”
“He obviously does! I can’t believe you would let me take Zahra to spend the day with Maddie without warning me she may say something like this! Zahra’s just a kid! And Ryan was here, in my house!” Her voice started to crack. She paused to collect herself. “You know I’ve been trying to shelter her from this crap. And you let me invite her to sleep over! After everything I told you . . . the harassment I went through, the trolls, the pictures. I can’t believe—”
“I didn’t know Maddie would say this stuff to Zahra.” His voice rose again. “So many people have misconceptions because they don’t know people like you. I thought maybe if they met you—”
“It’s not my fucking job to be some Muslim ambassador!”
He said nothing. Duncan was finally speechless. He stared at her, those beautiful green eyes wide.
“It shouldn’t take knowing me to understand that I’m a human being,” she said.
They stared at each other for several seconds. Amira’s mind flashed to the memories of the night before, how amazing it had been to sleep in his arms. How amazing it had been when he was in complete contact with her body as they made love.
Because that’s what they did—they made love. It had never been just sex. She hadn’t understood how complex a physical act could be until Duncan. Devastatingly real and completely present. She’d never felt so connected in her life. She’d felt seen. But he hadn’t seen her. Not really. If he had, he wouldn’t have exposed her to this.
It was impossible to accept, but the truth was that Duncan wasn’t different from any of them out there. He was compassionate, but not enough. He was empathetic, but only to a point.
She met his eyes. He had never looked like this before. Not his usual argumentative self. No trace of snark on his face. He looked wrecked, and completely devastated. She had won this fight and had never felt worse.
She sat down between Sameer and Travis. “You may not think like them, but you excuse them,” she said quietly. “You live with them. You put me and my family in their line of fire. You prefer to surround yourself with intolerance because it’s an easier life, and you just tell yourself, Well, at least I don’t think like them. At least I’m more enlightened than my family.” Amira wiped a rogue tear that escaped as Sameer put his hand on her knee.
The room was silent. All noise in this basement for the last week and a half wasn’t nearly as deafening as this silence.
“Complacency isn’t enough for me,” she said. “To you, it’s just a liberal/conservative issue. Right wing versus left wing. But we are real people, and our mere existence has become political. Your family and their so-called conservative values hurt my little sister. She’s eleven years old, struggling for acceptance, and discovering her self-worth. And Maddie told her she’s worth less because of her race and religion. This isn’t some ideology to Zahra, it’s just who she is. And all she wanted was a sleepover with a new friend. But life can’t be that simple for her, not because of her identity, but because of people like your brother.” Amira swallowed. “And that’s why there’s no future for us. Not a friendship, not more. I don’t blame you for your family, I know you don’t feel that way. But you don’t fight it either. And I can’t be around that. I don’t want me, or my family, to be reminded of the hate. It’s destroying us, Duncan.”
He looked at her, expression absolutely broken. “I don’t know what to say . . .”
Amira stood, not meeting his eyes. “I have to work on my project. I won’t be here later because I have a sleepover to go to. You guys rehearse as long as you want tonight, it won’t bother me.”
She left the room without turning around.