Left Leila, my older sister,
under the governance of her husband,
and Aamir, my younger brother,
in the care of my crooked uncle.
It terrifies me to think ours is a journey spurred by false hope.
Death: unavoidable, undeniable, unbearable.
elise
Audrey and Janie join Mom and me for dinner. We’ve just finished sub sandwiches, and now we’re hanging out in the living room. I’m curled up in the leather recliner with my laptop, and Janie’s on the floor in front of a mountain of Barbie dolls, some hers, some mine from eons ago. My mom and Audrey share the couch with twin mugs of tea. Tonight is Aud’s last night off before she works a string of closing shifts at Camembert, and she claims to be banking relaxation.
“So? What’d you do today, Lissy?” she asks, resting her feet on the coffee table.
I’ve spent the last half hour reading up on Ramadan (a month of ritual fasting meant to help Muslims seek nearness to and forgiveness from God), but now I give her my attention. “I walked Bambi. Worked on my portfolio. Went to Van Dough’s.”
Aud lights up. “With who? The boy next door?”
“His name’s Ryan.”
“Okay, withRyan?”
“No, someone else. But I did hang out with Ryan at the beach this morning.”
“Hang on,” my mom interjects, holding up her hand. “You suddenly havetwonew friends? After months—years—of solitude?”
“God, Mom. Way to make me sound like a loser.”
“Tutu, please,” Janie says, handing her mama a naked Barbie and a miniature pink tutu.
“You’re not a loser,” Audrey says, slipping Barbie’s tutu over her nonexistent hips. She passes the doll back to Janie. “Now, are you going to tell us about this mysterious second friend or not?”
I refocus on my computer, reluctant to spill about Mati. I suspect it’ll take my family a while to warm to his background; between Mom’s presence in New York City on September 11 and Nicky’s death in Afghanistan, their firsthand experiences with Islam have been negative, and deeply impactful. I’m not sure they’ll be willing to accept that when it comes to Muslims, Mati is the rule, not the exception. “All you need to know is that he’s very nice,” I say. “And, he bought me a coffee.”
“What’s his name?” they ask in unison.
I glance up and am met with a pair of inquisitive stares. Feeling double-teamed and sort of isolated all the way over here in my chair, I mumble, “Mati.”
Mom lifts an eyebrow. “He’ll go to school with you in the fall?”
Code for,He’s not too old for you, is he?“He’s only here through August tenth. He’s visiting with his parents.”
“Visiting from where?”
I could lie, easily, but lying feels like disloyalty, and I know Mati well enough now to feel shitty about betrayal by omission. “I’m going to tell you,” I say, “because I like him and I want you both to like him, too. But you’re going to be surprised. You might even be unhappy, at first. But just… think before you react, okay?”
“He’s from Mars, isn’t he?” Aud says with a cheeky grin.
“No. He’s from Kabul.”
Her smile vanishes, and her mouth gapes open like the entrance to a cave.“What?”
I close my eyes, praying for patience, for grace. “It’s not a big deal.”
“I think it is! Who the hell is this guy andwhyare you hanging out with him?”
