“Khodahafes,” Sohrab said back. “Bye, Darioush. Talk soon. I promise. Ghorbanat beram.”
“Ghorbanat beram. Always.”
I hung up the call and leaned back, hooking my knees under the lip of my desk to stop myself from tipping over.
Mom leaned against my doorframe and looked at me.
“You’re smiling.”
“He’s okay,” I said. “I was so scared.”
“I know, sweetie.”
“Did you know?”
She shook her head.
“But I thought they might leave. Mahvash used to talk about it sometimes.”
“What happens now?”
“I don’t know. If everything goes well, they’ll settle somewhere new. Maybe Toronto.” She smiled. “Maybe even here.”
“Really?”
“If we’re lucky.”
I let myself imagine it: Sohrab, here. Coming over for dinner.Hanging out and playing soccer. Showing him all my favorite places in Portland. Drinking lots of tea.
Finding a spot where the world falls away, and we can talk, and tell each other all the things you can only admit to your best friend.
Mom stepped closer to me and ran her hand through my hair.
“Darius?”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t mean to overhear, but... I heard you telling Sohrab about Landon.”
“Oh.”
“Are you okay?”
“I guess. I mean, I will be.”
Mom looked at me for a long time. Like she was trying to understand something about me she’d never had to understand before. She sat down on my bed and patted the spot next to her.
I pulled my shirt down to try and cover my underwear—a pair of bright orange trunks—and sat next to her.
“What happened?”
“We talked. And... well, we wanted different things.”
“Your dad said the two of you were thinking about... sex.”
My chest constricted. “He was. I wasn’t ready to.”
Mom’s hands went back to my hair.
