Epilogue
One Year Later
“Graduating with the highest honor and designated Kirkland Joel would be thrilled to get the recipe—and offered childhood stories about Sami’s various clumsy adventures in delightful abundance.
This was a family that played board games together and spoke until the early hours of the morning, simply because they enjoyed each other’s company. In fact, it was near impossible to get a word in between Sami and Halima. Baz loved every second of it.
With his own nerves settled, it got easier to reassure Sami that his parents were awesome and only wanted the best for him.
They were curled up in Sami’s childhood bed, under a poster of a young Mark Ruffalo—hard to believe Sami’s parents hadn’t guessed his sexuality long before he had come out to them.
“They are gonna be hurt I lied to them for so long,” Sami whispered into the night. Baz wasn’t an expert on healthy child-parent relationships, but…
“I’m sure they’ll mostly be happy that you’re safe and found your way again.”
“What if they aren’t?”
“Then you’ll still have me. And Naija, and the gang. And let’s be honest, my family is ready to adopt you. Just say the word.”
Sami chuckled and snuggled into his chest.
Baz’s prediction hadn’t been far from the truth. Sami’s tearful confession was met with plenty of hugs, words of reassurance about how proud they were of him, which had Baz tearing up as well—and suddenly, he, too, was pulled into the family hug.
Halima detangled herself first, declared they needed food to process the news and put out what she called Fatayer Za’atar, a.k.a. the best cheesy flatbread Baz ever had.
With every gourmet meal they shared in the comfortable warmth of the southern Californian winter, he understood less why Sami had chosen to move away from home at all.
Baz only boarded the plane back to the below freezing, snowed-in windy city because of a backpack full of leftovers and Halima’s standing invitation to return anytime.
Well, that, and Sami’s infectious excitement to see Naija again after a week of withdrawal.
Since fair was fair, after that, Baz accepted Jack’s invitation and took Sami to his childhood home too. Even the Christmas decorations couldn’t hide how little had changed since they had moved out.
The various school pictures of him and Eevee were unmoved, and their old bedrooms intact, much to Sami’s delight. He spent an hour going through Baz’s old stuff to dig up the most embarrassing relics of his past.
Baz could still see a young Eevee chasing him through the backyard, hear the screaming matches they used to have on the stairwell, how they had proclaimed to hate each other—just as vividly as he could still see the moments of reconciliation afterward.
He could still see the ghost of his mother everywhere, the way she used to lie on the couch or sing in the bathroom.
He held Sami’s hand and smiled in the face of it all, the good and the bad memories.
With every laugh echoing through the haunted halls—especially Sami’s—the shadows of the past lightened a little more. That was the magic of Sami Adam. Baz loved him so much.
How, then, could he be expected to sit still at Sami’s graduation and not scream his lungs out to celebrate his success? Easy, he couldn’t.
Of course, UChicago Law had welcomed Sami back, full financial aid reinstated.
They would have been stupid to pass on such talent.
Sami had fallen right back into the rhythm of cramming for exams as if he had never left.
They had spent days in bed with Baz making up hypothetical cases for Sami to dissect.
They even got Naija involved to host a quiz between them because nothing motivated Sami like the prospect of beating Baz.
Much as she had only indulged their idea with an eye roll and the odd remark that they were ‘such weirdos’ back then, her expression now rivaled Halima’s for pride.
It was only natural that she, Baz, and Sami’s parents cheered the roof down when Sami left the stage too. Only then, Baz sank back onto the dark-brown pew. Halima squeezed his arm, letting her hand linger on his elbow crease.
When the ceremony ended, no one beat Halima in getting to Sami. She darted past the other guests crowding the hallway and pulled him into her arms. In the avalanche of words, all Baz could make out was the odd ‘Ma shaa Allah’.
Try as he might to learn Arabic—and Aya did not go easy on him—he had a long way to go until he could keep up with Halima’s rapid-fire pace.
But every time he attempted to say anything, even something as simple as a good night or an I love you, it had Sami radiating happiness.
So nothing would get him to stop trying.
Not even Sami making fun of him whenever Baz butchered the pronunciation of a word so bad, it altered the meaning, or when Aya taught him a phrase that translated to something different than she had claimed.
“Shukran, Mama,” Sami mumbled when Halima kissed his cheek for the fifth time and he pulled himself free to hug Ryan, too. And because Baz knew his place, he stood back and let Naija jump into Sami’s arms next.
“I’m so proud of you! I love you so much.” Naija’s voice was an octave higher than usual.