Well. They’d already known that, hadn’t they? After the teaching thing. The real estate thing. The translating thing. After Jason and Sean and Omid and Brandon (fucking Brandon).
Farzan’s eyes were burning. The air in the car was too close, despite the cold. He wanted to get out, stretch his legs, run across the parking lot, but being Iranian around an airport was already tricky enough. No need to piss off the TSA.
David
Here!
Farzan couldn’t breathe. Was it too late to drive into the river? Or maybe take off for a new life in Manitoba after all, where there’d be no one around to disappoint except for caribou?
But he couldn’t leave David stranded at KCI. He wiped his eyes, put on his best smile, and got ready to do battle in the pickup line.
“Hey, babe.” David leaned across the center console to kiss Farzan’s cheek, then buckled himself in. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
“Sure!” Farzan knew his voice was too high, but he didn’t know how to do this. “How was everything?”
“It was okay,” David said as Farzan finally escaped the pickup zone and headed toward the first roundabout that would lead him out of the airport and toward the highway. “The weather was nice. It got cold here.”
“Yeah. You warm enough?” Farzan’s car didn’t have seat heaters like David’s fancy one did. Of course it didn’t. He was a fuckup with a fucked-up car. “Let me know if you feel carsick.”
“I’m good.” David was wearing dark-wash jeans and a soft-looking cobalt sweater. Farzan wanted to run his fingers along David’s shoulder. Wanted to snuggle his cheek into David’s chest and feel the warmth. Smell David’s cologne. But he was driving.
And he knew he couldn’t. His heart hammered as he finally pulled onto I-29.
David was quiet as they drove, occasionally tugging at the wrists of his sweater, or nodding along to the music. Farzan turned up theChrono Crosssoundtrack he had playing. An old favorite.
He cleared his throat. “How’s the new restaurant?”
“Hm? Oh.” David shook himself off, like he’d been daydreaming about sunny skies and warm weather. He’d been gone two days and he already missed LA. Farzan couldn’t blame him. His dream was in reach now, so close he could touch it. Coming back to Kansas City must’ve hurt.
“It was really cool. Sleek and modern and kind of minimalist, I guess.”
“Cool.” Farzan didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t compete withsleekandmodern. He couldn’t compete with nice weather, with hot sun-kissed people in fancy clothes.
He couldn’t even get a small business loan.
David went quiet again, staring out as the Northland sped by.
God. He’d already checked out, hadn’t he?
Farzan swallowed back a sigh. Or maybe it was his tears, threatening to return. David already had one foot out the door. They’d said, over and over, they’d figure things out when the time came.
Well now, it had.
And if Farzan had at least had some success to share, some good news, some promise for the future, he thought that might be enough to get David to stay. To at least ask. But now?
Now all he’d be doing was asking David to give up his dream. And for what? For the love of a fuckup.
They made the rest of the drive in a miserable, loaded silence. Farzan wished David would just rip off the bandage. Tell him it was over. Anything but this awful waiting.
It was getting dark when they pulled into David’s driveway. Farzan’s headlights lit the browning grass, the scraggly-looking shrubs that would no doubt bloom with color once summer came around. But David wouldbe gone, and the house would be sold by then, and Farzan hoped the new owner appreciated hydrangeas or peonies or whatever kind of fucking flowers they were.
“Here we are,” Farzan managed.
“Yeah.” David swallowed. “You want to come inside? Have a glass of wine and talk?”
Talk.
No, Farzan didn’t want to go inside for that. Better to do it right here, where he could make his escape with some shred of dignity.
