“I didn’t get it. All right? I fucked up. Again. Big surprise. But just because I’m a fuckup, it doesn’t mean you are. You’ve got this whole big adventure ahead of you, and I won’t be the one to hold you back.”
“But I want you,” David said, reaching for Farzan only to stop just short of touching him. “I love you.”
“You say that now. But what happens in a year or two? When you’re stuck in Kansas City, and you’ve got your master somm, and you’re still pouring the same old bottles and living the same old life, and I’m dealing with the same old shit in the same old restaurant that I can’t even afford to expand? It’s better this way. For both of us.”
Farzan didn’t think he could survive if David stayed and ended up unhappy. If it was him that fucked up David’s life.
“No, fuck that,” David spat. He gripped at his twists. “I get to decide what’s right for me. Not you. Yeah, you had a setback, that doesn’t mean you just… just give up on everything. Give up on us! God, it’s like every time things get hard for you, you just stop trying.”
Farzan went cold.
David had been around his parents too much.
But they were right, weren’t they?
“You’re not a fuckup, Farzan. You’re just allergic to your own happiness. Because if you’d stick with something and see it through, you’d know just how good it could be. But you never do.”
It felt like David had punched him in the jaw. His whole face was numb. His body, too. His hands went slack around the steering wheel.
David was breathing hard, but he blinked and sat back. Like he couldn’t believe what he’d just said.
“Farzan…”
“I think I should go,” Farzan said. “You better get your suitcase.”
Somehow Farzan found the trunk release.
David chewed on his lip, holding back something. More words they’d both regret.
Finally he shook his head and lurched out of the car.
Farzan waited until he saw David’s front door close and the light turn on inside before he pulled away.
Why in the world did David’s street have so many cars parked on the curbs? Farzan could barely navigate through his tears.
He hit West 39th and pulled into the first parking lot he could find. A little wine store, big red letters spellingTHE WINE SELLER. Farzan pulled into the first empty spot he could find and let himself sob.
forty-six
David
David could barely hear Farzan’s car pulling away over the sound of his own pulse, pounding in his ears. They felt full, like he was back on the plane, about to descend. Maybe he was. Maybe this was a nightmare. Maybe the cabin pressure had dropped, and he hadn’t gotten his mask on in time, and his brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen.
But his hand was cramping around the handle of his carry-on. He’d gripped it so tight, the logo had imprinted on his palm.
He let it go and swiped at his eyes.
What the hell had just happened?
He’d gotten off the plane anxious and excited. He’d missed Farzan. Just two days apart, and he couldn’t stand it.
He spent the whole car ride working up his courage to tell Farzan the news: That he was staying here. That Kansas City was his home. That Farzan was his home.
And now it had all blown up.
David could barely breathe. He collapsed onto his couch, grabbed one of the decorative pillows his mom insisted on buying him, and hugged it to his chest.
How could he just end things like that? Farzan hadn’t even given him a chance.
