Chapter 11
Amma’s new job is meant to save us but has created an assortment of brand-new problems. Because of the sheer amount of work involved in preparing outfits for a bridal party, she won’t have time for many other jobs in the coming weeks.
When I volunteer to help her prepare, however, she waves me away. “I have three other perfectly good assistants. It’s your first day off in ages. I insist you go enjoy it.”
“Yeah, Afa,” Arif chimes in, crossing his scrawny arms in a businesslike manner. It’d be cute if his face wasn’t still puffy from our family cryfest yesterday. “Go act like a real teenager instead of an old lady for once.”
Resna chimes a weak giggle. “Api is a bura betti.”
“I’m not old,” I protest, turning to Nanu for backup.
She only tuts as she brings Amma the old butterscotch candy tin containing her sewing supplies, but there’s sad pride shimmering in her brown irises. “I’m sorry to say you don’t have the coloring to pull off white like me yet, betti. You should listen to your mother.”
“Fine, I can take a hint.”
Drained like my savings, I lumber over to my room. For the briefest instant, my focus turns to the messy table-turned-desk that I used to write at, which Nanu has been using to pray on since her knees grew arthritic. The sight of the scattered Post-it notes stuck to the wall sends a surge of anxiety through me.
Not today.
It’s been hard enough without having to contend with a blank document.
I could probably collapse in my bed and sleep until I’ve grown a Rip Van Winkle–esque beard, but what I sorely need is a distraction, so I text the twins and Ximena to ask if they’ve got plans. With Mr. Tahir taking the day to train Nayim in tasks other than dishwashing, this is the perfect opportunity for the rest of us to catch up. I want to tell my friends everything that happened with Harun and at home.
Dalia replies, We’re about to head downtown.
My lips purse.
They never hang out without inviting me along. I can’t always swing it, whether because I’ve taken on extra shifts or I can’t afford wherever they’re going and my dignity won’t let them pay for me. Hell, if Mr. Tahir didn’t force me to take the day off so he could turn the full force of his Mr. Tahir–ness on poor Nayim, I’d still be at the tea shop. But at least my friends usually ask .
What’s up downtown?
Just some summer sales, responds Dani.
My thumb lingers over the keypad, typing and deleting I love sales! once I accept that it makes me sound like a desperate loser.
But Dalia, bless her Mom Friend heart, must detect the conflicted ellipses across the screen, because she says, I’m sorry, Zar. We were going to look at stuff for our dorm rooms and didn’t want to hurt you. Do you want to come? We can swing by on the way?
Yeah, girl, come! Ximena adds.
I hesitate, until Dani sends an animated GIF of a white bear grabbing a brown bear’s paw and looking up at it with puppy eyes, the words Plz… I’m sorry flickering across the top.
Fighting a smile, I reply, I’d love to , and return one of the Golden Girls hugging.
Five minutes later, Dani yells from the Coop, “Get in, loser, we’re going shopping.”
I smack her shoulder, laughing, then enter the backseat next to Ximena, who drops her curly head on my shoulder at once, burrowing into my side like a koala. Dalia regards us through the rearview, a guilty expression furrowing her brows, until I say, “I’m okay, Dal. Thanks for worrying about my feelings, but if you’re all going to be busy with college starting fall, I want to spend as much time with you this summer as humanly possible.”
Ximena hugs me tighter and Dani reaches behind her seat to pat my leg. Dalia, meanwhile, wipes at her mascara-lined eyes and dredges up a watery smile. “Oh, don’t make me cry or I won’t be able to drive.”
“I’ll do it,” her sister volunteers.
Dalia kitten-glowers at her. “Not a chance. It’s my turn.”
“Then I get to pick the music!”
I sit back and smile, hoping that’s the end of all the icky-sticky feelings and we can go back to normal. I’ve had as many Lifetime moments as I can handle in one day.
The wind blowing through my loose hair feels so soothing that even though I want to give them a status update on the Harun situation, my eyelids droop and the city blurs around me. I have to blink several times to wake myself up.
We pass the Great Falls National Park along the way, packed to the brim with parents pushing strollers, families barbecuing, and couples sitting on the benches.
An ice cream truck parked in the gravel lot plays a merry jingle. Screaming kids holding drippy Popsicles dash toward the railing around the wide cliff’s edge, so enamored by the sight of the waterfalls that they pay no mind to the foamy, yellow-tinted water, the trash littering the grass, or the construction crews working high above. The air smells of sea salt and smoke.
Traffic picks up downtown.
As the central hub of Paterson, it contains not only city hall, the police station, and other important clerical buildings, but Passaic County Community College and dozens of local businesses, including food carts, electronic stores, boutiques, and other restaurants.
The Mini Cooper whooshes by a billboard announcing PCCC’s impending open house.
Dalia parks next to a meter in front of a store with a sign that reads MO’S DISCOUNT FURNITURE . I scope the street before entering, recalling many wonderful memories of back-to-school shopping in the area with my family or the girls, snacking on churros and snow cones from the carts or a greasy but delicious slice of pizza from the parlor on Broadway.
“Salaam, little sisters!” greets the owner, a burly Middle Eastern man with close-cropped gray hair and Arabic script tattooed on his arms, noticing Dalia’s shimmery purple turban.
“Salaam,” we say in unison, and let him point out the ongoing sales.
While the girls amble off to ooh and aah, I check the price tag on a floor lamp that resembles a palm tree, wince, and release it. Not as much as it would cost outside downtown, in a department store, but way out of my price range.
“Surprised your dad didn’t tag along,” I tell the twins, who are bouncing on two of the garishly decked mattresses that take up the whole center of the shop.
“Psh, we had to ban him after he kept moaning about the cost when we went to Target,” Dani says. “The white people started side-eyeing us. They were either about to offer donations or call security, but we left before we could find out.”
Dalia shakes her head, though it’s clear she’s suppressing a smile. “Can you blame him? It’s going to be an expensive four years, even with us chipping in.”
“Well, that’s why we’re bargain-hunting, isn’t it?” Dani replies. “Besides, Zahra knows more than any of us about helicopter brown parents.” She turns to me. “How’s that going, by the way? You’d tell us if you were already engaged, wouldn’t you? ’Cause I think your smoking-hot new dishwasher bae might be less than pleased if you were taken.”
“Dani!” Dalia scolds.
I laugh uncomfortably. “No. I already told you Harun isn’t into it either, right? He’s not a bad guy. The funniest thing happened on our last date, actually—”
Before I can tell them about Hanif’s hilarious antics, how Harun texted me to chat about the movie after, and everything that occurred with Amma’s job following our night together, Dalia gasps and points toward the rear of the shop. “Look, Dan, those twinkle lights are exactly like the ones we saw at Target but, like, half the price!”
“Hold that thought, Zar,” Dani says, hopping off the bed to join her sister.
Ximena observes my downcast expression for a moment, then takes the space her girlfriend vacated, patting the spot next to her for me to join. “You sure everything’s okay, Zahra?”
Although I’m tempted to lie again, I can’t do it anymore. Not after what happened with Amma. But I don’t want to cry, either, which I will if we get into all that now, so I merely say, “I guess it’s hard not to feel like a fourth wheel these days. I mean, Dani and Dalia are twins, you’re Dani’s girlfriend, and all of you are going to college, while I’m only…”
Replaceable.
“You’re not only anything,” Ximena replies, putting a hand on my knee. “They’re just… in their own world sometimes.” Although she’s talking to me, her eyes are on Dani, at once fond and something more complicated. “That doesn’t mean that you’re not an important part of their lives. Of all of ours.” She smirks. “ Or that there aren’t things in your own world you should try exploring more… like certain eye-candy dishwashers.”
Heat rushes up my face, her ribbing doing its trick as I squeak, “Nayim is more than just a pretty face, Men. He’s a hard worker with big dreams and—” Ximena’s smirk grows wolfish and my teeth snap together. “Okay, okay, I get it. Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m always right,” she replies, but her grin takes on an edge. “Honestly, Zar, I know things have been hard for you. Losing your dad? I can’t even start to imagine it. But I worry you get so lost in the bad sometimes that you don’t notice the good.”
“Good?” I recoil.
Ximena winces. “That came out wrong. It’s just, your future being undecided doesn’t have to be so awful. It means you get to make choices for yourself, in a way none of the rest of us can.”
I’m about to answer, when Dani yells across the shop, “Oi, Mena, come look at all the art they have hung up! You think I should buy one for my dorm?”
“Uhhh, you’re buying this imitation BS over my dead body, babe,” her girlfriend calls back, giving my knee one last squeeze before moving to find the Tahir girls, leaving me before I can respond. And honestly, I wouldn’t even know what to say. There’s not a single bone in my body that can see the silver lining she believes in.
I’m all alone.
This is the most stuck I’ve felt since the acceptance letters rolled in and I had to defer mine. Maybe it was a mistake to come.
My friends have been swept away by the magic of colorful fairy lights. I wish the biggest question in my life was what kinds of decorations to buy. They presume I have some caricature of freedom they don’t, when just last night, Amma and I were arguing over how to keep the lights on at our apartment. Any of them.
Dread cracks open inside me, gaping and raw. Things are changing between us, whether I want them to or not.
I only hope they won’t leave me behind.
Because without them, I’m scared of who I’ll become.