I run up the stairs and into the house.
Mom finds me as I’m hanging my coat up. “Home so early? I thought you’d want me to pick you up.”
I stare at the threads on my coat, trying to get a grip on the high-low of the past few hours. I’m trying to figure out if we only get so much happiness in the world, and once we reach that level, the gods pull us back by taking away some of the things we love most.
“Nira?”
I try to hide it, and I try to hide it, but my shoulders start shaking, and suddenly, I’m sobbing into my jacket.
Mom grabs me and turns me around, into her embrace. “Shh, shh.” She smooths my hair. “It’s okay.”
I can’t find words; I just keep crying on her shoulder. We stand like that until I have no more tears left. When I pull away from her, babbling an apology about the giant wet spot on her shoulder, I see Grandma standing to the side.
“I’ve made tea. You come and tell me all about it.” She gives Mom the eye.
Mom’s lips press together, then she nods, smiles, kisses me, and moves away.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about it, not yet.”
“Come. The tea is getting cold.” Grandma takes me by the hand and leads me into the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”
“No, I don’t want to eat anything.”
“Okay, I’ll get you some meat pie and cheese straw.”
“I don’t want to eat.”
“You just cried out your body weight.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You will be.”
“Later.” I sit down. “But not yet.”
“Okay, okay.” She holds up her hands. “Just the cheese straws.” She fixes the tea and gives it to me.
I take a sip. “There’s hardly any sugar. Doesn’t that violate some cardinal rule about sugar in tea solving all the problems.”
“Sugar doesn’t solve problems. Sugar is there to help with the shock and helps steel you for the strength you need to tackle the problem. The more sugar, the more power you need.”
“Just a bit of sugar because—?”
“I don’t know what happened. Until I know, I can’t give you sugar.” She sits beside me. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
She looks over her shoulder, then leans in. “Is it about Georgia and the playing?”
I shake my head.
“Okay.” She pats my knee. “I wanted to ask before I let Safiya into the kitchen.” She takes my cup, rises, and calls for my mom.
“What is it? What happened?”
And it comes pouring out. Emily, McKenzie, the breakup of the friendship. Through it all, Mom rubs my shoulders, Grandma hands me tissues, and I drink the tea. I reach for more sugar, but Grandma pushes my hand away. “You don’t need it.”
When it’s all over, I go to my room. I’m wrung out. There’s no energy to give to Georgia. I check my phone. Nothing from Emily or Mac. I text Noah but don’t get anything in return. Farah would text back, but I still don’t know how to talk to her about Noah. I’m alone in my misery and regret, and not even the happiness of Noah and me is enough to dispel the darkness.
I cover my head with my pillow and lie, star-shaped, on the bed. I’m not sure how long I’m there, unmoving, when the door slams open. I jerk upright, the pillow falling from my face.
Farah stands in the doorway. “You’re such a ninny. Your life is falling apart, and you can’t text? I have to hear about it from Grandma?”
I crumple, she swears, slams the door, and runs to me. “What happened?”
“I’m so sorry. I’m so stupid.”
“Don’t apologize for that. I’ve always known you’re stupid.”
I laugh through my tears and punch her shoulder. “Shouldn’t you be at home getting another A so Uncle Raj can gloat?”
She rolls her eyes. “Him. I told them I’m sleeping over.”
“On a school night? They let you?”
“What’re they going to do? I’m with family.”
I take her hand. “Thanks. Thanks for coming over.”
“Grandma’s too old to deal with your nonsense.” She smiles as she speaks. “What are you sorry for?”
“I’m apologizing for Noah.”
“You already did.”
I tell her about what happened in the hotel, but I don’t tell her about his dad. My reason for being there is the job offer, and I say I just happened to run into Noah.
“Oh my god, you had someone ask you to play? As a job? Nira!” She hugs me hard.
I pry myself from her. We’ll talk about that later.” Then I tell her about the kiss, and the other kiss, and the other kiss.
“I’m still lost. Why are you apologizing?”
“Because I was jealous and stupid—”
“Right, and you said sorry.”
“But the whole time you knew he liked me, and you never told.”
Farah looks at me like I’m a moron. “It wasn’t my secret to tell.”
“I know, and that’s what makes it even worse. You were honoring Noah, and I acted like such a—”
“Ninny?”
“Moronic ninny.” I take her hand. “Thanks for being a good friend to him, and to me. It would have been easy to get mad and—”
“I don’t tell secrets.” She holds my gaze. “Neither do you. So, come on, out with it. What made you cry?”
She spends the night, and we talk about Emily and McKenzie until there’s no more talking to be done. Farah’s convinced something else is going on. “Emily loves you. No way would she dump you like that.”
“But McKenzie—”
“—is odd, sure, and for sure she has an agenda, but I don’t think she was looking to mess you up with Emily.” She cocks her head. “Do you think they’re dating?”
“No way. Don’t you ever see McKenzie with Noah? She’s one touch away from rubbing a hole in his arm.”
“Maybe she’s bi.”
I consider it, then shake my head. “No. No way. If Emily liked McKenzie, she’d tell me.”
“Because you’ve been such a good friend to both of them.”
“Why do I have to defend myself? McKenzie’s as racist as a Confederate general.”
“No, she’s not. I’m telling you, Nira, there’s something else going on.”
We keep talking, keep debating. I lend her some of my clothes.
We’re lying side by side in bed, sleep creeping in, when I say, “Farah?”
“Yeah?”
“That day we saw—the time in Florida with your dad—I asked you about how his choices would affect you—”
She laughs softly. “Yeah, you and your mother hen routine about my long-term growth and development.”
“You said you had a plan, and I thought you meant Noah.”
She doesn’t say anything.
“So?” I ask into the silence. “What’s your plan?”
“You won’t laugh?”
“Should I?”
She shifts closer, and even though the room is dark, she finds my hand and holds it. “Mom and Dad want me to be a doctor, and I will be. What they don’t know is that my patients will be creatures—not humans.” She squeezes my fingers. “I want to be a veterinarian.” She says the words with the same yearning I have when I talk about being a musician. “When I’m established in my practice, I’m going to buy a house, somewhere in the country, close enough for me to commute”—she takes a breath—“and then I’m going to rescue as many animals as I can.” The mattress bends as she turns, and I sense the glow in her eyes. “I can see it, Nira. I can feel it. A house with lots of windows and hardwood floors. And every morning, I’ll hear the click-click of my dogs’ and cats’ feet, and the sound of a cat purring on my lap, the thump of the dogs’ tails on the floor.”
“King-size bed,” I say after a minute.
“What?”
“You should have a king-size bed so you can dream together. You won’t hear their footsteps in the morning because they’ll be with you, but—”
She throws her arms around me and hugs me tight.
We talk about her dream, how much her parents will freak out because they don’t like animals and a vet doesn’t have the same status—in their minds—as a surgeon. Farah falls asleep in the middle of telling me how her house will smell of lemon wood oil and fresh bread. It’s early in the morning when my phone buzzes. Noah.
SORRY. His apology lights up my screen. FELL ASLEEP. GUESS I WAS MORE TIRED THAN I THOUGHT.
NO WORRIES. YOU OKAY?
:-)
Y WERE YOU AT THE HOTEL?
LONG STORY. TELL YOU LATER.
SUPER SPY STRIKES AGAIN.
I’m giddy. This thing between us is precious. It ripples in my heart like sunlight on the ocean, and I want to float in it. We text nothing, happy faces, and stupid memes, but god, it’s me, and it’s Noah, and I’m going to hold on to it for as long as I can.
When I wake up, it’s because Mom is rubbing my shoulder. “I told the school you’re not coming in today. I thought you could use the day off.”
“What did Dad say?”
“Your marks are good; he’s fine.”
Something in the way she says it makes me think she went Momma Bear on him, but I don’t say anything. I sit up, shaking the sleep from my brain. “Thanks.” My cousin was right. In their way, my parents have their purity. “Where’s Farah?”
Mom sucks her teeth. “Raj, what else? I tried to get him to let the poor girl stay with you, but he’s convinced it’s some conspiracy. I want her to fail in school so your marks will be higher.” She pushes off the bed. “Honestly, your father and his brother. Sometimes I want to throw them off a cliff.”
“Don’t. They’d just argue about who’s falling faster.”
She laughs, kisses me, then leaves to get ready for work. I text Farah and tell her thanks. She texts me back an emoji of a middle finger. Then I text Noah, tell him I won’t be around today, but I should be at work tonight if he wants to stop by. I pull the covers over me and go back to bed.
When I wake up, it’s just Grandma and me in the house. I grab breakfast and a shower, then head outside with her when she suggests we go for a walk. She takes me on one of her many routes, past the elementary school and playground, through the park where the old men play chess while dressed in woolen caps and parkas. The smoke rises from their pipes and scents the air with tobacco and cherry.
Grandma doesn’t talk, except to point out the birds on the branches or a brittle leaf swirling in the breeze. I’m happy for the silence. My thoughts veer between the trumpet and Noah, Emily and Farah’s theories. We turn a corner and another corner and come to a dead end.
“Oh.” Grandma pivots. “I didn’t realize they’d shut down the road.”
I take in the men working on the other side of the orange barricades. “Sewer work.”
“What a waste. I thought the path would be clear.”
“Let’s turn around and find some other way. Anyway, it’s not a loss; it was a nice walk.”
“Hmm, if you say so.”
I catch the light in her eye, the tilt of her mouth, and stop walking. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“What?”
“Did you take me on this winding path to teach me something?”
“We should go home. The cold is poking your brain full of holes. You don’t make sense.”
“Oh, please. You’re as subtle as a… as a…”
“See? Holes in the brain.” She starts down the path.
I chase after her. “Come on, admit it. This was a learning exercise. Take me down some winding path, give me a dead end, and I’m supposed to put it all together as a metaphor for my friendship with Emily. Right? It wasn’t a waste because there were good things that came of the relationship, just like how we saw the birds and the old men.”
“I didn’t say a word, but it was nice to see those things. You’re right; it wasn’t a waste.”
“Old woman—”
“And since you’re waxing philosophical, then you’re right. No path is a dead end. We’re meant to walk around, get lost, and go the wrong way down the one-way street.”
I put my arm around her shoulder. “Well played, Yoda. When we get home, I’ll make you some tea.”
But when we get home, McKenzie is standing on the steps.