Sohrab shook his head. “Thank you. But I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
I hated this new reality.
I didn’t want to live in a world where Sohrab and I couldn’t talk about things anymore.
“Don’t be sorry. Maybe one day I will.” Sohrab handed me the small package he was carrying. “I got you something. For your birthday.” It was wrapped in Yazdi newspapers, same as his cleats had been. “Happy birthday, Darioush.”
“Thank you. Should I open it now?”
“Yeah.”
I pulled the paper off and crumpled it so it wouldn’t blow off the roof. Inside was a framed photo of Sohrab and me.
It was from Nowruz, though I couldn’t say for certain when it had been taken. Sohrab and I were leaning against the wall of Mamou’s living room. Sohrab had his arm over my shoulder, and we were both laughing at something.
I wondered if Sohrab would ever laugh again.
“Is it okay?”
“It’s perfect,” I said. “Thank you. You’re always giving me things. I feel bad.”
“Don’t feel bad. I want to.”
I wiped my eye—a minor containment breach. “I never had a friend like you.”
“Me neither,” Sohrab said. He squeezed my shoulder. “You don’t care what anyone thinks. You know?”
My ears burned. “I care what everyone thinks, Sohrab.”
“No you don’t. Not really. You don’t try to change yourself. You know who you are.” He bumped shoulders with me. “I wish I was like that. I always try to be what my mom needs. What my amou needs. What you need. But you are the opposite. You are happy with who you are.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s really me. You’ve never seen what it’s like back home. How everyone treats me.”
“They don’t know you, Darioush.” Sohrab grabbed my shoulder. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”
“I wish you could see yourself too.” I swallowed. “You’re the only person who never wanted me to change.”
Sohrab blinked at me then, like he was fighting a containment breach himself.
“I’m going to miss you, Darioush.”
“I’m going to miss you, Sohrab.”
“I wish...”
But I didn’t find out what Sohrab wished.
The azan rang out, piercing the still night.
Sohrab turned and listened, his eyes fixed on the Jameh Mosque in the distance.
I turned and watched Sohrab. The way his eyes lost their focus. The way his jaw finally unclenched.
I put my arm over his shoulder, and he linked his over mine.
And we sat like that, together.
