Early Aughts Sick Day #2
“Mona, this guy thinks I’m a newborn chicken,” Abu calls. “Cheep. Cheep! Are you happy now?”
I don’t think Sami could possibly look more exasperated, and I’m mostly seeing his face from behind. “You’re not making sense,
Baba!”
“Eh! Get on with you,” he singsongs. I can’t help but smile as Sami shakes his head and clicks the door shut.
Just then, another knock sounds. “Baba, what is it now?”
“You want me and Mom to come back with chai soon?”
“No thanks! We’re good.”
“You su—”
“Positive,” Sami’s voice rasps. “Thanks, but we’re good. Please go chill.”
“Okay! Now I go make sure the restaurant doesn’t erupt with small fire. Busy day for me with my son having the man cold. Bye,
Mona joon!”
“Thanks, Abu!” I call through my hoarse throat.
As his footsteps fade down the hall, Sami looks at me. “Would you believe that was less intrusive than I expected? And hey,
we now have sliced melon and berries.”
I grin. “It’s sweet he’s so caring.”
“A little too caring at times.” Sami’s gaze flits down as he sets the container on the coffee table between our various bottles
and mugs.
“I mean, I’m thinking I’ll move out soon.” Sami rolls his shoulders and stretches his arms behind his head. “I mentioned to
Irene to hit me up the next vacancy she has.”
I try to keep my eyes from shifting. “You’d live here? In this building?”
“Of course. It’s close to work, just far enough away from Abu—I’ll have to figure out how he got in and fix that—and this
place is full of . . . great people.” I shake his gaze off me as he continues. “And Irene’s supported the diner for so long,
it’d be nice to support one of the last privately owned buildings around here.”
I try to ignore the pang of guilt knocking through me. “If my family were like yours, I’d never move out.”
Sami seems to freeze on the spot. “I don’t mean to sound like a dick. I shouldn’t complain so much about Abu to you when I
know your—”
“No worries,” I interrupt before he can poke harder. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”
“Well, still . . .”
“My situation is . . .” I suck in a deep, ragged breath.
“I know my dad just passed, but he was kind of away a lot growing up anyway.” I don’t mention that he was still technically living with us when he would disappear on a bender or stay in bed all day.
That it feels like I grieved him a thousand times over the years.
“Then, when I moved out, I got kind of busy with my life things, so we never really figured things out.” I don’t mention how I avoided going home because being in that house felt like being swallowed whole by the scared girl I used to be.
“Makes sense.” Sami’s gaze is understanding, but still, guilt courses through me.
“It is what it is. I do miss him in ways, but I’m okay.” I force a smile as I reach for a lozenge to coat my dry throat. “The
only real trouble is my mom is alone now, and her way of processing grief is to wreak havoc on the world.” I roll my eyes,
thinking of her most recent antics. “So right now a little distance is actually okay.”
Tentative silence follows. I wonder if Sami is seeing through my words, realizing how selfish I was. “Abu is sweet to bring
us fruit.” I tilt my chin at the coffee table. “And I don’t think I’ve ever had someone set up a sick station. It’s more than
I deserve.”
“Of course you deserve it.” He doesn’t laugh it off. His gaze is burning against my cheek.
“Thanks, but I mean this whole day. I’ve never had a day on the couch like this.” Never felt so relaxed doing so.
Sami’s eyes widen in surprise. “You’ve never been sick?”
I sigh. “I’ve been sick. But I’ve always worked through it, even as a kid. Normally I would at least try to catch up on emails
from home.”
“Oh.” Sami’s face turns toward the TV, though I can still feel his eyes darting my way. “Well, maybe you can have softer days
sometimes now.”
Silence falls between us for a few minutes.
We both watch the next contestant on the game show, who’s clearly making the most uninformed choices.
My gaze wanders to the letter Sami’s dad dropped off.
The return address looks to be from the city planning committee.
Must be something to do with the petition he is working on filing.
“So, I guess your leave is ending soonish,” Sami breaks in. “Are you looking forward to going back?”
I think of Olivia and the rest of the crew. Of feeling like I was drowning with nobody coming to save me. “Yeah, I miss the
routine.” The words slip out of my mouth automatically, echoing the thoughts I’ve had countless times these past few weeks—but
before I’ve had a chance to really consider if they’re still true. I pause, probing at the strange emotions balled up in my
chest, then clarify. “It can be a lot some days, and some clients aren’t great, but I do enjoy it.”
Except, now that I’ve eased into a snail’s rhythm of coffee at Sami’s, Ernest’s walks, even journaling a bit in the afternoons,
it might be a bit of an adjustment going back to the eleven-hour days. But I’m sure I’ll be back to my old self in no time.
“Makes sense.” Although he doesn’t quite look convinced.
“We can’t all love every single one of our customers the way you do.”
“Hey, I don’t love every single one.”
“Oh, come on, you do. You love them all so much.”
“Not true!” He shakes his head in protest. “In fact, I have days when every customer annoys me.”
“I’ve never seen you act the least bit annoyed about anything, but I’m going to choose to believe you.”
“Well, I’ve never been annoyed when you’re around.” He eyes me for a flash and heat swells at my temples. “But if you ever
hear me call someone ‘boss,’ it really means ‘asshole,’ and if I’ve gotten to that point, I’m at my fucking brink.”
“Noted.” I giggle into my mug of tea.
“But if I’m being honest, it’s usually the newer building folks that grind my gears. They always want something we don’t have. Artisanal coffee, nine types of milk, and a more photographable plate.”
“Are those things inherently bad?”
“No,” he admits, then his shoulders harden. “But they just don’t appreciate the community that was here before. It’s all so . . .”
He huffs. “It’s not the yuppies themselves who bother me, it’s what they represent. All these new buildings, the way they
want to live these perfect, sterilized lives. They’re just a bunch of suits that care about money.”
I don’t mean to wince. Sami’s face drops as he notices. For a second I’m afraid he can read my mind. “Mona. I’m—”