And the silence was okay again.
The house was quiet when we got back, except for Dad and Babou in the kitchen playing Rook again.
“What time do you leave?”
“Early. Mom says we have to leave by five. Which means we’ll probably leave by six.”
“Probably,” Sohrab agreed.
He looked at me, and I looked at him.
I didn’t know how to say good-bye.
But then Sohrab pulled me in and hugged me.
He didn’t kiss me on the cheeks like a Persian.
He didn’t slap my back like a Soulless Minion of Orthodoxy either.
He held me. And I held him.
And then he sighed and pulled away.
He gave me this sad smile.
And that was it.
Maybe he didn’t know how to say good-bye either.
I loved Sohrab.
I really did.
And I loved being Darioush to him.
But it was time to be Darius again.
Dayi Jamsheed came to drive us back to Tehran in the morning. I was showered and ready by five, so I waited out in the living room. I had finished the appendices ofThe Lord of the Rings, but I still had some econ reading left.
The truth was, I hadn’t actually touched it since we’d arrived.
Laleh wormed her way next to me on the couch. Her silky headscarf was out of place, but it looked cute that way. She was soft and warm against my side as she laid her head on my chest and closed her eyes.
I loved my little sister. When I looked at her, I felt the same way as when I stared into the ancient flame of the Atashkadeh. Or when I heard the azan ring out across the city.
Dad found us like that, curled up against each other. He mussed my hair, but the joke was on him, because it was still wet from my shower. He dried his hand against his leg.
“Homework?”
“Just some reading for econ.”
“I’m proud of you. For doing it.”
I wasn’t sure what to think of that—Stephen Kellner, expressing pride in me—but he was trying to make things better between us.
I wanted things to be better too.
“Thanks.”
