Chapter Twelve
Twelve
Asma’s last overnight shift was brutal. There was a multicar pileup on the San Mateo Bridge and it seemed as though the ambulances carrying injured drivers and passengers were never going to stop arriving at the hospital. The ER was in chaos, with doctors, residents, and nurses being summoned from all over the hospital to pitch in. Asma ran back and forth between the injured all night, with hardly enough time to attend to one patient before being summoned to assist with another. The last of the patients wasn’t stabilized until hours after Asma’s shift was supposed to end in the morning.
Despite her exhaustion, Asma couldn’t fall asleep when she got home, still high from the adrenaline of her shift, her body clock thrown off by the overnight activity and the late-morning sunlight streaming through the ineffective curtains in the twins’ bedroom. After an hour of staring at the ceiling, growing more frustrated as each minute passed, she got off her air mattress and headed downstairs. Perhaps going for a run would tire her out. She was desperate—Asma was not usually one for running.
But here she was, sitting on the front steps of Maryam’s house lacing up her shoes, when Lubna and Saba walked out of their front door across the street, their faces lighting up when they saw her.
“We’re going to pick up Tariq from work and get some lunch,” Saba said.
“Give him my salaams,” Asma answered.
She grabbed the handrail and was pulling herself up from the stoop when Maryam opened the door. “I thought I heard voices out here,” she said. “Where are the girls going?”
“Just out,” Asma answered. She knew Maryam didn’t approve of Tariq, and she didn’t want to hear any complaining.
“Where are you guys going?” Maryam called out to the girls.
Lubna and Saba glanced at each other.
“Just out.”
“I want to come!” said Maryam. It was one of Maryam’s least attractive qualities, Asma thought with annoyance, how she was perpetually the youngest sister even now that she was married with children. She’d never grown out of demanding to be included when she felt she was being left out, or pretending to be ill so she might be tended to. Asma had hoped she would age out of that behavior one day, but it seemed even well into Maryam’s twenties, she was still a seven-year-old at heart.
“We’re going to get lunch, so we’ll be gone for a while!” Lubna called back, and Asma knew it was a mistake not to simply refuse Maryam her demand outright. But Lubna was too polite for that and would be made to indulge Maryam as a result.
“No worries,” Maryam said. “I don’t have the boys right now. Your parents are picking them up from soccer and then taking them to run a few errands.”
Saba frowned and whispered to Lubna.
“We’re actually going to be walking,” Lubna said, slipping her car keys into her purse.
“Sounds good to me!” said Maryam.
“A super-long walk—maybe three miles!”
Maryam didn’t get the hint. Asma thought of the vague headaches and low-grade fevers Maryam was perpetually complaining about, despite the fact that Asma never found anything wrong with her. Clearly, Maryam had forgotten that she was supposed to be in “delicate” health, when faced with a three-mile hike.
“I’ll just grab my shoes,” Maryam replied.
The girls looked at Asma in desperation as Maryam disappeared into the house. Asma held up her hands at them and nodded, indicating that she would handle the situation.
“Why are they acting like I can’t walk?” Maryam muttered as she rummaged through the hall closet for her shoes. “I’m not some lazy housewife who doesn’t leave my couch!”
“They just want some sister time,” Asma said.
“They’re always hanging out with each other. I’m their sister too.”
Asma considered her options. If Maryam joined the girls, she would mess up their plans to see Tariq. Maryam was not one to hold her tongue when faced with a situation she deemed inappropriate. Maybe Asma should go with them to run interference for Saba and Tariq. It would be a good deed and, more importantly, it would get her out of her run.
“You know what, I’ll come with you guys,” Asma said, though she was already feeling fatigue pulling at the backs of her eyes, her long, taxing night in the ER beginning to catch up to her. A three-mile walk didn’t exactly sound appealing. But still, she couldn’t leave poor Tariq at Maryam’s mercy.
When they emerged from the house, there was a black BMW parked in the Qureishis’ driveway. Beside the car, a figure stood talking to Lubna. Asma recognized him immediately, even with his back to her. Farooq. He’d been invited to join their little excursion.
His presence startled Asma and brought on a rush of hot panic. After all, if this was meant to be a double date with Tariq and Saba, then Farooq and Lubna were clearly seeing each other—a reality that Asma had refused to take seriously even after hearing it discussed by Hassan and Maryam. But her denial had now caught her off guard.
“You’re sure you want to come?” Lubna called to Maryam, as Farooq turned and caught sight of Asma. He seemed not to react, though Asma was flooded with another wave of regret. This was actually happening…the love of her life had moved on and was now dating a member of her family. She felt like she might be sick. She bent down, pretending to check her laces, then stayed down to slow her breathing.
“Definitely!” Maryam said. “Asma’s coming too.”
“Great,” Saba said, though her tone didn’t reflect enthusiasm. “It’s a party.”
As the little group started down the street, Asma’s phone rang. She’d never been so happy to see the hospital in her caller ID. She waved at the group to go ahead and stopped to take the call.
“Sorry, I know you’re off, Dr. Ibrahim,” apologized the intern on the other end of the line. “But Mr. Shepard was just readmitted.”
Asma felt a flare of concern. The last she’d heard, Green Meadows had identified their air-conditioning system as the source of the Legionnaires’ outbreak and were taking steps to address the situation. Either Mr. Shepard was being admitted for something unrelated, or perhaps the situation hadn’t been thoroughly corrected. Legionnaires’ was a serious public health concern. Asma resolved to check in with the health department if Mr. Shepard still had signs of bacterial pneumonia.
“Please keep me posted as to his condition,” Asma instructed the intern, before she hung up and hurried to rejoin the group.
Maryam was speed-walking ahead—perhaps to show that she was a great walker—with Saba following, walking, talking, and texting on her phone. Farooq and Lubna brought up the rear. Asma caught up to them at a stoplight and fell into place behind them so quietly that they didn’t notice that she had joined them.
“They drove down to Santa Cruz last night for his reading,” Farooq said. “They said they’d meet us at the restaurant.” Asma realized that he must have been talking about Sophia and Yusef. Her stomach dropped further—this was meant to be a lunch date where they introduced their siblings, she realized. Things were moving quickly, then.
“I love Santa Cruz,” said Lubna. “Such a fun town.”
“I’ve never been,” Farooq said, and the lie made Asma catch her breath.
Santa Cruz was where the two of them had gone after Asma received her organic chem grade. They had walked along a deserted trail with a gorgeous vista of the ocean when they had taken a break, spreading a picnic blanket in a clearing on the side of the path. It was the happiest Asma could ever remember feeling. She had turned to share that with Farooq but hadn’t needed to. She knew from the look on his face—that big lopsided grin and the way he had gazed so intently at her—that he felt the same.
“Oh, Asma!” Lubna turned around, sabotaging Asma’s plan to eavesdrop. “Is everything all right? You look a little pale.”
“It’s nothing, that was just the hospital.”
“Do you have to go in? I thought you just worked all night.” Lubna looked concerned. Farooq stared at the ground ahead of him. His face was expressionless, but Asma knew from the slight clench of his jaw that he was aggravated.
“No, it was just a consult about one of my regular patients,” Asma said. “I’ll follow up on it tomorrow. I don’t think I have it in me to go back in now.” In truth, Asma was feeling her exhaustion. She wondered, particularly compared to Lubna’s bright twenty-something-who-gets-good-sleep glow, if she looked as haggard as she felt.
“Oh my gosh, you must be so tired,” Lubna said.
“You get used to it after a while,” Asma replied. “Kind of.”
The light had turned green but Farooq didn’t move. It was a second before Asma realized that he was waiting for her to walk ahead. Embarrassment flared. It was clear that he wanted her to go so he could be alone with Lubna. She quickened her step to pass them and catch up with Maryam.
Maryam was throwing a temper tantrum. During their walk down the hill to the town center—a glorified strip mall—she had overheard Saba on the phone and realized the real reason the girls had left home in the first place and why they didn’t want Maryam to join them.
“I don’t shop at Walmart,” she announced. “They’re terrible to their workers and their plastic Chinese goods are destroying the ocean.”
“I didn’t realize you were such an environmentalist,” said Asma. “Especially after your rant the other day about paper straws.”
“They turn into pulp in your drink, who thinks of these things?” Maryam said. “Asma, come with me to Carter’s instead. The boys need new shoes and I prefer to buy ones that weren’t made in sweatshops by other children.”
Asma didn’t protest. She needed to get away from Farooq, even for a few minutes. Her memory of their Santa Cruz trip had left her feeling raw in his presence, especially now that he seemed like a completely different person with her. Cold and distant, the opposite of the warm, sweet boy she’d known, with his encouraging words and arms full of flowers.
“I don’t understand why Hassan’s family is encouraging this,” Maryam said as they entered the shoe store.
“Tariq is a good guy.”
“I’m sick of people saying that! There are lots of good guys, that doesn’t mean you should marry all of them.”
“What exactly is your problem with him?”
“It’s not personal. I’m just saying she can do better.”
“Better, how? He’s smart, close to his family, and, most importantly, he’s good to her.”
“Marriage is a lot of work, even when you’re with someone who has so much in common with you,” said Maryam. “Why make things harder by marrying someone from such a different family and background?”
Did all married people really feel this way about marriage? Were they speaking some universal truth that she couldn’t understand because she was single? Or was her family especially preoccupied with wealth and status?
And then there it was. “You don’t understand these things because you’re not married, Asma.”
“Oh right. Because you’re married to the right man from the right background. So your life should be our aspiration.” Asma let out a little laugh, though she knew she was being cruel.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“No, please tell me, Asma. What about my life is so terrible that you wouldn’t want any part of it?”
“Maybe you should ask yourself. You’re the one always whining and complaining.”
“That’s a really bitchy thing to say.” It was, and Asma regretted it almost immediately. But the combination of her fatigue and Farooq’s indifference had left her short-tempered and prickly. Especially since the only reason Asma was crashing this double date was because Maryam had horned her way in on Lubna and Saba’s plans and was too self-involved to realize it.
“I’m tired,” Asma replied. “I shouldn’t have come.”
Asma put down the mini-Crocs she had been holding and left Maryam alone in the store. She felt dizzy from fatigue. She went in search of the go-to suburban strip mall refuge—Starbucks. She opened the door, greeted by a blast of cool air and the overwhelming aroma of roasted coffee beans. But then she saw that she wasn’t the only one who’d had that idea. Farooq and Lubna were there, waiting at the counter for their drinks. So deep in conversation that they hadn’t seen her come in.
Asma ducked her head and quickly passed them on the way to the alcove where the bathroom was located. She stood next to the wall, hoping they would leave without noticing her and she could get her caffeine fix.
“I mean, he’s practically supporting his entire family,” said Lubna.
“He seems like a nice guy.”
“Nice guy is an understatement. Tariq’s the best.”
“So you don’t think Saba could do better?” Farooq asked.
“Because he works retail?” Lubna asked. “Who cares? Saba likes him.”
“What about your parents?”
“They like him too.”
“I mean, they don’t care about his job or that he’s not Desi?”
“Please, Ammi and Abu are so chill. They just want us to marry good people.”
“Unpretentious Pakistani parents—how refreshing.”
Asma winced. It was clear that this was less a compliment of the Qureishis than it was a dig at the Ibrahims. A customer approached the bathroom. Asma moved aside, pressing herself against the wall to remain out of sight.
“I don’t think I could handle it if our parents were super judgy. Like Maryam,” Lubna continued. “She drives me nuts sometimes. She can be such a snob. She’s so much like her older sister, Iman. Have you met her?”
“No.”
“It’s that whole family, really. Except for Asma.”
“How so?” Farooq asked.
“She’s more like their mother was, apparently. Down-to-earth, and humble even though she’s the most accomplished one. I wonder how things would’ve been if Hassan had married her instead. You know they were set up, right?”
“I didn’t,” Farooq said, carefully. “When was that?”
“Maybe a year or two before he married Maryam—so, six years ago?”
“How come it didn’t work out?” Farooq asked, and Asma could tell his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Despite how much he’d changed, Asma realized she still knew him so well. And it didn’t hurt that his curiosity was about her.
“Asma’s always been really focused on her career and isn’t interested in marriage. Which, I get, but still. Sometimes it seems like she’s lonely.”
“Maybe she hasn’t met the right person?”
“Maybe. Saba and I wonder sometimes, but we’ve never asked her. Saba’s theory is that she had a great love who left her permanently heartbroken.”
“Like Miss Havisham?”
“Who?”
“You know, from Great Expectations ,” said Farooq.
“I haven’t seen it.”
“Not important,” said Farooq. “Do you have a theory about her?”
“I don’t know. I think it’s cool that she’s a doctor, but I wonder if the aunties are right in some ways. Follow your career aspirations but only at your own peril if you want to get married.”
Asma took in a sharp breath just as the barista called out Farooq’s and Lubna’s names. The last thing Asma wanted to be was a cautionary tale for the career-minded young women in her life. She wanted Lubna to know that it was possible to have both—that Saba was right, and Asma had chosen not to marry because of heartbreak and not indifference—but their voices faded as they took their drinks and headed out the door.
—
It was only when Asma got to the front of the line that she realized she’d forgotten to bring her wallet with her. It was the fatigue of the long night shift—she felt herself blush and apologized to the barista, heading quickly for the door. By the time Asma got outside, the entire group had reassembled in the parking lot by a small black convertible with its top down. Asma could see Yusef and Sophia behind the windshield. Sophia waved at her as she approached.
When Maryam caught sight of her, she pointedly looked at her phone.
“I actually don’t think I can do lunch. If I’m not home when your mom arrives with the boys, I’ll never hear the end of it,” she said to Lubna. “And I can’t take another person yelling at me today.”
Asma knew the comment was directed at her.
“I’m sorry, Maryam,” Asma said.
“Whatever,” Maryam said with a wave of her hand. This was her way of accepting Asma’s apology.
“I should probably go too,” Asma added, grateful for the escape. “I think I’m a lot more tired than I realized.”
“Do you want us to drop you two at home?” Sophia asked. “We’re a little early for our reservation anyway, and it won’t take long.”
“That’s okay,” Maryam said, as if to prove once more that she was physically able. “I could use the walk. But, Asma, you go. You look terrible.”
There was no time for Asma to refuse. Sophia was out of the car, pulling up her seat.
“Sure, I apprecia—” Asma said, as she awkwardly began to climb into the back. But her fatigue got the better of her as she misjudged the width of the car’s little doorframe, and her foot slipped. Before she could topple over, however, Farooq’s steadying hand caught hers. She gripped it, startled both by her clumsiness and by the sudden contact. That familiar hand, the one she’d held so many times and then had not touched in eight years after it had been yanked away from her in anger. Warm and firm, it slipped perfectly into place with hers. Farooq helped her into the car and then released her. Asma hoped that it appeared she was blushing from the near fall and not from her sudden proximity to him. And then, without any prelude, he handed her the cup of coffee he had been holding, two packets of raw sugar and a wooden mixing stick balanced on the lid. A grande skim latte.
It was the only drink Asma ever got at Starbucks. Asma looked at him blankly for a moment, before she realized that he had ordered it for her. Perhaps he had been listening when she and Lubna were discussing her exhausting overnight shift. But by the time she thought to thank him, he had already closed the door and was walking away to join Lubna on the sidewalk.
—
The car raced down an empty freeway.
The top was down but Asma couldn’t even enjoy the feel of the wind in her face and hair. She tried focusing on the moving landscape, the small rolling hills on either side of the freeway lush and green after several days of rain. She kept replaying the conversation between Lubna and Farooq as she sipped the drink he had given her, her hand still tingling from where it had met his.
He got her coffee. He even remembered her order. Had the memory of their trip to Santa Cruz triggered feelings in him too?
“Well, that didn’t take long,” Yusef said.
“You mean Farooq and Lubna?” Sophia asked. “Did he say something to you?”
“No, but he seems really into her. I think he’s found a match.”
“I thought so too. Although it’s surprising considering how strongly he used to feel about Desi women,” Sophia said.
Sophia caught Asma’s eye in the rearview mirror and mistook her grimace for curiosity.
“Farooq was head over heels in love with this girl in college. Did you hear about that back in the day?”
Asma shook her head, trying to play it cool.
“We never met her. I guess she was keeping the relationship a secret from her family, so it was all very hush-hush at the time,” Sophia said with a look of pity. “And I guess for good reason. They were such snobs that as soon as she told them about Farooq, they made her dump him. I guess they thought he wasn’t good enough for her. Can you imagine?”
“I bet they are regretting it now!” Yusef laughed.
“I really hope so,” Sophia said. “Awful people. It took him years to get over it. God, he was so depressed. He swore that he’d never marry a Desi woman, because he didn’t want to deal with another family like that.”
Asma looked out at the green hills, grateful when they passed a semitruck so loud that it excused her from having to respond.