My mom hated it when my sister and I fought, so I rarely rose to the bait these days, but cutting out the petty fights had left us with little else. When we weren’t fighting, we seldom had reason to speak. I always thought it would help matters to ignore her, and yet, for some reason, my silence only drovemy sister crazier. Even now I could see her anger building, her body tensing.
“What are you even doing here?” Shayda said, turning on Ali. “You know people might see you standing next to us, right? They might think you know us. Or—gasp—they might think you’re Muslim.”
Ali frowned. “What are you—”
“Please. Don’t engage with her. Please just ignore her.”
Shayda practically exploded.
“What do you mean,just ignore her? When was the last time you saw him at the mosque, Shadi? When was the last time he said a single word to either of us? Or to Maman and Baba? Last month he saw Maman at the store and she’d only talked to him for a minute or two—nothing more—but apparently it was too much. He left the store after that. Walked out the door.He abandoned his grocery cart in the middle of the aisleso he wouldn’t have to bump into her again. Can you even believe that?”
I looked at Ali, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. He stared at the wall instead—stared at a blank, bright wall with a barely contained anger I’d never even known him to possess. I couldn’t process this right now. Not right now.
My mother was in the hospital.
I turned back around. “Shayda— Please—”
“Why are you even with him? He doesn’t associate with people like us anymore. His reputation can’t handle it.”
I felt Ali move before I saw the motion. He stalked towardmy sister, looking suddenly murderous, eyes flashing. I could tell he was about to say something and I nearly shouted just to beat him to it.
“Stop,” I said. “Shayda, you’re yelling at the wrong person.Please.Please just tell me what happened. I couldn’t understand what you said on the phone. Is she hurt? How did she get here? Did you have to call an ambulance?”
Fear flitted in and out of Shayda’s face, giving her away. Her eyes shone, then dulled, the only evidence of the war within her, and in that moment she transformed. She was suddenly more than my stupid sister—she was the sister I loved, the sister for whom I would cut off an appendage, take a bullet. I pulled her into my arms even as she stiffened, held on tight when she softened. I heard the hitch in her breath.
“Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay,” I whispered, and she flinched. Jerked back. Became a stranger.
“Why do you smell like cigarettes?”
Panic rioted through me.
Lie, I screamed at myself.Lie, you idiot.
“That’s my fault,” Ali said, and I spun around, stunned. His anger was gone, but in its absence he looked wrung-out. Run-down. “My bad.”
“You smoke now?” Shayda again. “That’s disgusting. Andharam.”
“Really?” he asked, eyebrows up. “I thought it was a gray area.”
Shayda’s eyes darkened. “Whatever. You can go now.”
Ali didn’t move. He looked away from Shayda, his eyes glancing off the wall, the ceiling, the floor. But he didn’t move.
He looked at me.
“Are you sure you want me to go? Do you guys even have a ride home?”
“Shayda has her car,” I explained.
“What about your dad? Do you want me to call him?”
I was still processing that, still trying to find a tidy way to explain that my father was likely sleeping in a room not unlike the one my mother currently occupied when he said—
“What about Mehdi? Did h—”
Ali froze, as suddenly as if he’d been struck by lightning. Slowly, he dragged both hands down his face.
“Fuck,” he breathed. Squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
