thanks to her he can’t look back.
Take a breath, away they’ll fly,
up above the world so high.
Twinkle, twinkle shiny star,
she has marked him like a scar.
I was dead, then alive. Weeping, then laughing.
—Rumi
elise
The day after my lunch at Mati’s cottage (the day after he let me read about stars and scars and wondrous eyes, the day after I nearly swooned in the middle of a busted-up cemetery), I’m cruising out the gate with Bambi and her trusty tennis ball when Ryan intercepts me.
“You’re headed to the beach, aren’t you?” he says over the hedge.
“Yep.”
“Perfect, because Xavier and I are about to meet up. If you’re going to hang out with Mati, we can double.”
I hesitate, wavering between my need to be a good friend, my wish to lay eyes on Xavier, and my selfish desire to keep Mati to myself.
“I take it your lunch with the parents went well,” Ryan says with a pointed raise of his brow. “It may not have, if it weren’t for me. Keep that in mind while you’re trying to come up with an excuse for ditching us.”
I crack a smile. “Oh, all right. You guys can tag along.”
“Cool. I’ll call Xavier and tell him to head for the beach.”
Bambi woofs, wagging her tail at the gate. I wave an arm. “Call while we walk.”
On the way, I text Mati to fill him in about Xavier, and by the time Ryan and I reach the beach, we find the two of them waiting near the top of the stairs. There’s a red Wrangler parked nearby, a US Air Force sticker adhered to its rear window. Ryan was right—Xavier is good-looking. He’s almost as tall as Mati, with a similar wiry build. His skin is brown, his eyes nearly black, and his smile is warm. He’d blend right in with the company of young soldiers who came to Sacramento for my brother’s burial. He greets Ryan with an affectionate shoulder bump, which makes me smile. It’s nice, seeing Ryan so happy.
I’m equally happy when Mati reaches out to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “Good morning, Elise,” he says and, benign as they are, his words feel like a secret—a private exchange between the two of us.
Xavier’s brought a football, which strikes me as kind of funny. Ryan’s not exactly sporty, and though Nicky taught me the ins and outs of soccer, helmets and shoulder pads weren’t his thing. Somehow, I can’t see Mati throwing a football on the streets of Kabul.
But as soon as we hit the sand, he and Xavier are tossing the ball back and forth, the gap between them stretching wider and wider as they make their way down the beach. Ryan and I follow, taking turns throwing Bambi’s tennis ball into the surf. When we reach the end of the sand, we stop to watch her frolic, chasing seagulls like she was born to do it. Ryan asks about yesterday’s lunch, and Mati tells him how impressed his parents were with me, a half truth, I’m sure—I doubt Hala spent the evening singing my praises. Then I feel obligated to admit to Mati that Ryan schooled me on how not to make a fool of myself during a Muslim meal. He seems touched—that Ryan went to the trouble to tutor me, or that I bothered to learn, I’m not sure.
After our long walk back, Xavier and Mati persuade Ryan and me to play a game of catch. I’m terrible and Ryan’s not much better, but Mati surprises me with his athleticism. I mean, he’s tall and lean and his arms are corded with muscle, but football. It’s so…American.
We pass, and pass, and pass, and then, conversationally, Ryan says, “So Jordan called yesterday.”
Xavier’s spiral flies wide.
Mati retrieves the ball, brushing sand from its leather. “Jordan is your…?”
“Ex,” Ryan says. He glances at Xavier, then quickly away. “He’s having second thoughts about ending things.”
“Why?” Mati asks. He tosses the ball to me, and I make a lucky catch.
“He’s thinking the distance between our schools won’t be so bad after all.”
I throw a wobbly pass to Xavier, hoping to distract him from the awkward topic Ryan thrust upon us. He connects, but sloppily.
“How far apart will you be?” Mati asks.
