And I got this feeling, this flutter in my diaphragm. I couldn’t explain it.
When he let me go, I asked, “What about you? Are you gonna be okay?”
“Of course. But I’m going to miss you.”
“We’ll have a lot ofStar Trekto catch up on when you get back.”
“You know it.” Dad slung his messenger bag over his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get these loaded.”
While Mom took Dad to the airport, Grandma and Oma decided to vacuum the living room.
I helped as best I could, moving the couch and the chairs, until they shooed me out because I was in the way.
So I made a pot of Persian tea instead.
Laleh had a cup, with a leftover cinnamon roll, while I made myself some scrambled eggs.
“Doing okay, Laleh?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sad about Dad leaving?”
She shrugged. “I guess.”
Laleh wouldn’t look up at me. And I thought again that maybe there was something more bothering her.
Something she still wouldn’t say out loud.
Mom got back a little after nine. By that point Grandma and Oma had moved onto a deep-clean of the kitchen, so I grabbed a cup of tea for Mom before they erected their quarantine field.
“Thank you,” Mom said. “I’m going to call Mamou. You want to say hello?”
My chest tightened.
“Yeah.”
I really did want to talk to Mamou.
But every time we did, I was terrified the news would be bad.
We situated ourselves in the office with the door closed to silence the sound of dishes clattering downstairs. Mom’s nostrils flared every time a particularly loud bang rattled the floor.
After a couple rings, Mamou’s face appeared on the computer screen.
“Eh! Salaam Shirin-jan, chetori toh?”
Mamou and Mom talked for a minute in Farsi, and I listened and smiled. Mamou’s voice was warm and happy, even if her eyes were tired.
“Hi Darioush-jan, how are you doing maman?”
“I’m okay. How are you?”
“You know, I am okay. Keeping busy, all the time. How’s your school? Do you have a girlfriend?”
Mamou asked me that just about every time we talked.
I hadn’t told her about Landon yet.
