“Hm? Oh, Farzan-joon.” Persis was short—a full head shorter than Farzan—her graying hair dyed a sunny blond and tied into a neat bun, her brown eyes keen and nestled between deep sets of crow’s feet. Herruby-stained lips quirked into a broad smile. “Is everything okay? Something wrong with the food?”
Thursday nights at Shiraz Bistro had become Farzan, Ramin, and Arya’s tradition, especially as they all got older and busier. One night a week to eat Iranian food, catch up on life, be with the people who knew them best. And get spoiled by his mom and dad, who served up huge platters of food without ever actually charging them.
“No, everything’s great,” he said. “Navid’s here.”
“Oh!” Persis’s eyes lit up as she pushed back from her desk. It was coated with stacks of paper, pastel Post-it Notes, and a few framed photographs of her children. One photo, of Farzan’s sister Maheen, showed her at her wedding, smiling at her husband Tomás. Another, of Navid, was of him winning a big design award at work.
Farzan’s was his senior photo from high school. He was young, pimply, and still dreaming of becoming a teacher.
Apparently that was the version of Farzan his parents liked best. Young enough that he hadn’t actually disappointed them yet.
Farzan followed his mom out and stood back as she greeted Navid and Gina and tried to talk without stopping the flow of traffic through the kitchen. When Navid shyly raised his and Gina’s linked hands, angled to show off the ring, Persis let out a cry and swooped in for more hugs and kisses.
“I’m so happy for you both,” she said. “You two are perfect for each other.”
“Proud of you, Navid.” Firouz pulled Navid in and kissed his cheeks, then turned to Gina. “Welcome to the family.”
“My son’s getting married!” Persis cried again, and disappeared into the back, only to emerge with four bottles of Cava. It was Freixenet Cordon Negro Brut—Farzan had convinced his parents to switch from a semi-sweet California sparkling they got a good deal on but never sold because it tasted awful. The black-clad bottles were already sweating in the humid kitchen. “Farzan-joon, can you open these? Champagne for everyone!”
Farzan fixed a smile on his face, even as his mom’s voice gnawed at his insides.My son’s getting married.The successful one. Meanwhile, Farzan was just here to open bottles. He didn’t begrudge his brother’s happiness or success, or his parents’ pride, but just once, he wished he could do something that made them proud.
While his mom cooed over Gina’s ring, Farzan ran out to the small bar in the corner. Shiraz Bistro didn’t actually have a bartender. The bar was mostly used to store glasses and display the wines they had on sale. Farzan started pulling down flutes as Ramin and Arya appeared at his side.
“What’s going on?” Arya asked.
“Navid just got engaged.”
Ramin elbowed Arya. “Told you.”
Arya rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“Give me a hand?”
Ramin helped Farzan pour while Arya started distributing glasses to all the tables, no doubt enjoying the chance to once again interrupt the card sharks. At least this time it wasn’t about dick.
Persis, Firouz, Navid, and Gina emerged from the kitchen right as Farzan filled the last flute. He took glasses over to Navid and Gina, while Ramin followed with a pair for Persis and Firouz. They retreated back to the bar to grab their own flutes as Firouz grabbed a fork off the nearest table and tapped his glass for quiet.
“Everyone! Your attention please. My son Navid just got engaged.”
Polite applause broke out over the restaurant, along with a fewshululululus. Navid blushed but leaned in to kiss Gina.
“Let’s hear it for the happy couple!” Farzan shouted before his dad could delve into a speech that would last until the Cava had gone flat, not to mention embarrass Navid into the next life. “Beh salamati!”
As patrons who knew Navid—like Farzan, he’d grown up underfoot at Shiraz Bistro—got up to congratulate him, Farzan retreated to his table with Arya and Ramin, tossing back his entire glass of Cava.
“It’s kind of weird, isn’t it?” Ramin said. “Little Navid getting married. I still remember when he was desperate to playMario Kartwith us.”
“Ugh, and then he’d always play as Toad,” Arya said disdainfully. “Wahoo.”
“As long as he’s happy,” Farzan said, and he meant it.
He loved his know-it-all brother. He loved Gina. They made a beautiful couple, and they’d make an even more beautiful bride and groom.
“Dude. You okay?” Arya asked.
Okay? Sure, he was okay. Jealous, but okay.
Navid had a wedding on the horizon. Farzan had an empty apartment.
