“I wouldn’t make a habit of sleeping naked in your grandmother’s house, though.”
“I didn’t mean to. I showered and then I just got in bed without thinking.”
I mean, I usually slept naked at home, where there was a door I could lock, but I had no intention of doing that in my grandmother’s house.
I had no intention of going number three in Mamou’s house, either. Not under any circumstances.
It would have been too weird.
Dad shook his head. “I understand. I used to sleep naked all the time. Up until you were born.” He got this sly grin.
“Uh.”
“How do you think you got made?”
“Dad. Gross.”
Dad laughed at me—laughed!—and I kind of laughed too. It was an uncomfortable laughter, but still better than Sohrab’s and Ali-Reza’s and Hossein’s laughter.
It was deeply awkward.
“Okay. Come on. I know you’re tired, but you’ve got to stay awake until bedtime.”
Dad rubbed the dense black shrub of my hair and tugged on the ends.
I was certain he was going to start on me about how long it was again. But then—
“Stephen!” Mamou called from the kitchen. “The tea is ready!”
Dad exhaled through his lips.
I blinked.
We were supposed to get along now.
“Babou said you went and played soccer. He said you made a friend.”
“Um.”
“I’m so proud of you, Darius.”
Dad pushed the hair off my forehead and kissed it.
“Go ahead and put some clothes on. Let’s have some tea. It’ll be dinnertime soon.”
“Okay.”
THE DESSERT CAPITAL OF THE ANCIENT WORLD
Dad closed the door behind him, and the Dancing Fan chose that moment to fall over.
I dug some clean clothes out of my suitcase and set the Dancing Fan back on its rubber feet.
I also grabbed the tin of FTGFOP1 First Flush Darjeeling out of my Kellner & Newton Messenger Bag. It had gotten dented on its journey through time and space, but the lid was still snug and sealed.
Dad and Laleh were in the living room, sipping cups of Persian tea. “Where’s Mom?”
“Shower,” Dad said. “Tea’s in the kitchen.”
