But before he could move, David leaned in one last time, planting a soft, lingering kiss that sent a wave of exhilaration down Farzan’s spine.
Benefits, indeed.
David pulled back and smiled. “Drive home safe.”
“Yeah.” Farzan cleared his throat. “You too.”
On Friday, to Farzan’s surprise, his parents didn’t come into the restaurant. His dad had texted him that morning.
Firouz
You can handle it
Farzan was stunned but pleased by the vote of confidence.
Firouz
Plus your mom has an appointment
There it was.
Farzan
Give her my love
Hope it goes well.
Shiraz Bistro was quiet in the early hours before service, when it was only Farzan and the kitchen staff in to prep. Sheena was cleaning and trimming produce, Spencer was marinating kabob for the grill, and Chase was rinsing the rice.
Farzan was surprised—pleasantly so—by the staff his parents had assembled in the kitchen. Sheena was Iranian, the daughter of a friend of a friend, and Elmira was Iranian too, though Farzan didn’t think their families knew each other. But Chase was a Black guy who’d just graduated high school and was a wizard with tahdig, and Spencer was white and nonbinary, and his parents hadn’t even batted an eye.
“In Farsi we don’t even have gendered pronouns,” Persis had said airily after mentioning Spencer, who used they/them pronouns, to Farzan. “I don’t know why it’s such a big deal.”
Granted, Farzan’s parents had handled his own coming out with barely a shrug.
“We love you no matter what,” his dad had said, even though Farzan had grown up hearing both his parents make homophobic jokes from time to time. Granted, he’d grown up in the nineties, when everyone had made homophobic jokes all the time. Hell, Farzan and Ramin and Arya had made more than their share, and look how they ended up.
Farzan had never really doubted his parents would accept him. But he had just graduated college and was about to start his teaching career, and no matter what, he hadn’t been able to get thatwhat if?out of his mind.
Butwhat if?hadn’t happened. His parents loved him, and they loved Arya and Ramin just as fiercely. Maybe even more fiercely—though all three of them had, over the years, had to field the occasional “Are yousureyou’re not dating?” from one parent or another.
Arya and Ramin were both handsome guys, butgross. They were morethan Farzan’s friends, they were his brothers. In some ways, even more than Navid.
Farzan gave the kitchen a once-over: everything was going fine. He grabbed the spices he needed off the rack and retreated to his mom’s office. No, not his mom’s. It was his office now. Most of the mess had been sorted into two huge filing cabinets Farzan had stuffed into a corner. There were still family photos all over the place, but now there were photos of Farzan and his friends, too. In a place of pride next to the door, there was a photo of Farzan’s parents, Arya’s parents, and Ramin’s parents, taken back in middle school, before Ramin’s mom had died. It was a jolt to realize the smiling parents in the photo had been only a few years older than Farzan was now.
Fuck.
Farzan put on some music, pulled the spice grinder from the desk drawer, and got to work. Advieh—Persian spice mix—was essential to most Persian cooking, and the Alavi family recipe was a closely guarded secret. Farzan’s father made his advieh the same way he’d been shown by his mother, Farzan’s grandmother Safa.
Safa had insisted it never be written down, only transmitted orally, because she was afraid her sister would steal the recipe.
The advieh was a mix of cumin, fenugreek, cardamom, white pepper, dried rose petal, dried Persian lime, nigella, and golpar, though Farzan went a little lighter on the white pepper than his father, and a little heavier on the dried lime. Farzan ground the spices one by one, using a rolled-up sheet of paper from the old laser printer as a funnel to get them into the jar without spilling. The fragrance of each spice permeated the office; Farzan sneezed a few times as he added the white pepper.
The sweet fenugreek, on the other hand, made him think of David, of the khoresh karafs he’d made, of the sex that had followed after. And that made him think of the museum, of the kiss they shared, the few texts they’d exchanged, plans to meet up again Monday, andnope, Farzan absolutely could not daydream himself to an erection right now. Not on the job.
When he was done grinding, Farzan sealed the jar and shook it to mix the advieh. As he did, Spencer popped their head in. They had medium-length brown hair that was shaved on one side, and a small septum piercing that gave their round face a bit of character. “Hey, Farzan? Your sister’s here.”
“Thanks, Spence. Can you send her back?”
