Chapter Eight #2
“She wants everyone to get along and isn’t above emotional manipulation,” Tom allowed.
“She hates that I don’t visit more often.
As for your last question, I don’t have any other siblings.
My mom died when I was ten, but she was sick for a long time before that, and my dad wasn’t in the right headspace to think about getting married again for a long time. ”
“I’m sorry,” Sameera said automatically. They had walked to a sort of clearing with a large hill to the right, with a slope cleared of trees.
“I used to go tobogganing here when I was a kid,” Tom said, indicating the hill. “Cal uses it now, or at least he used to. It’s been a long time since we hung out, and that’s my fault entirely. I’m sorry about all of this, about dragging you into my family issues.”
Something inside Sameera softened at Tom’s ready confession, at his willingness to be honest and vulnerable.
Impulsively, she told him about her own brother.
“Esa was a surprise baby. My mom was forty-two when she had him. He used to follow me and Nadiya around when he was a baby. When things got . . . tough between me and my parents, I didn’t see Esa for over three years,” Sameera said.
“When I got back in touch, it was like he was an entirely different person—more than a foot taller, his voice deeper, and he was really quiet, especially around me. I didn’t know him at all.
And now he wants nothing to do with me.”
They stood in silence for a minute, and she thought about time—how quickly it ran, and how slowly it crawled, depending on where you stood in its current. “I won’t lie to your family about us,” she said quietly. “I’ve lied in the past to the people I care about, and it’s led only to trouble.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to,” he said. “This is my mess to sort out.”
She put a hand on his arm, and even through the layers of his heavy jacket and the warm sweater he had underneath, she could feel the firmness of his bicep, the warmth and strength of the real man beneath. “You came back here for a reason. Maybe you should spend some time thinking about why.”
They turned back to the house and made the journey back in silence.
It was late, and Tom invited her inside.
There was a new shyness between them now, an extra level of vulnerability.
Sameera needed some time to examine her feelings and the information Tom had confided, and she demurred, explaining that she had to check on her family.
She had been gone for nearly an hour. Who knew what mischief her parents and Esa had gotten into by now?
Besides, the samosas had not been entirely filling. She wondered if they could order a pizza delivered to Cooke Place.
Inside the guesthouse, she discovered that Barb had anticipated their hunger and delivered a picnic basket filled with snacks, along with a note: Enjoy and rest up, Malik family!
We are so happy to have you here. Breakfast at the main house once it’s light out, before we start our holiday adventures!
The basket also included a few movies on DVD, and, looking at the flat-screen television, Sameera noticed a DVD player. Esa held up the discs and wrinkled his nose.
“Did we travel back in time to 2006?” he asked, and Sameera laughed.
“You haven’t lived until you’ve watched a film on disc,” she said.
“When Sameera and Nadiya were little, they would pile all their favorite movies on the floor and go through them one by one. Remember how much you liked those princess movies, meri jaan?” Naveed asked, using the Urdu endearment for “my life.”
Esa hooted. “Is Tom the Prince Charming you always dreamed of?”
Sameera rolled her eyes at her little brother. “You were obsessed with Dora the Explorer and Cars, brat,” she said, and he laughed. This felt good, joking around with her little brother, chatting with her parents. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst, being stuck in the same space for a few days.
She pulled out the cheese, fruit, crackers, and bread from the basket, and Tahsin set about making a snack—grilled cheese sandwiches, grapes, and sparkling water to wash it all down. Barb had even included a few packets of microwave popcorn.
Naveed set the small table, and the four of them settled around with plates and glasses.
Sameera had a vivid memory of eating dinner with her family when she was a teenager, Esa in his high chair, of shared meals and quiet conversation, of laughter, and later, tears.
She blinked the memory back and took a bite of the grilled cheese.
Her mom always knew how to make it the way she liked.
Afterward, Sameera retreated to her room with her laptop to work on some files, and her pitch for Andy, determined to make a dent.
As she worked, she realized Tom hadn’t answered her question about Andy Shaikh’s ETA.
She texted, asking once more, before turning back to her laptop.
There was no guarantee that Andy would even agree to work with her firm, of course.
All Tom had promised was access; she would have to impress him with her pitch, but right now, the best way to ensure she wouldn’t be freshening up her résumé in the new year was to keep working.
Tom texted her back: I hope things weren’t too weird this afternoon. Andy got back to me about his plans.
He had attached a video, and Sameera stared at a face that felt familiar to her by now, after all her hours of online research.
The business tycoon was a handsome man, his skin a deep brown, eyes sparkling with energy and good humor.
He was dressed in a hoodie and track pants, thick dark hair flopping as he jogged.
“Tom, I’ve got a meeting in Hong Kong, but I’ll be at Cooke Place for Christmas!
Love you, brother. Try not to get married before I land in Wolf Run.
Can’t wait to meet your new friend and tell her every one of your embarrassing secrets, starting with how long it’s been since you last had a girlfriend! ”
Tom ended his message with a big-eyed emoji, and Sameera couldn’t resist replying.
So how long Has it been?
His reply was immediate: I’d rather not answer questions that will incriminate me. Would you like to know how many different types of souffles I can make?
Sameera smiled to herself. Nope. How long, Romeo?
Don’t you have people to sue?
Sameera stuck her tongue out at the screen.
While it was frustrating not knowing exactly when the great Andy Shaikh would grace them with his presence, she would do her best to use this extra time to prepare.
Besides, Tom had warned her: The rich could be unpredictable.
She flipped the phone over and tried to concentrate, for about thirty minutes.
Until her family’s conversation filtered through her door.
“Let’s watch Home Alone,” Esa said. “It’s a classic for a reason.”
“Elf is the obvious choice,” Naveed argued.
“What about A Christmas Carol?” Tahsin put in. “I like the black-and-white classics.”
“Let’s ask Sameera,” Naveed said, and seconds later, her door opened and her dad poked his head inside. “Which movie should we watch tonight, Samu? Come out, the popcorn will be done soon. You know your mother cannot resist.”
“I have a lot of work to catch up on. Why are you watching Christmas movies, anyway?” she asked, trying to soften the rejection. She stood up and wandered into the sitting room, where her family had gathered on the couch. “Are you all in desperate need of a Christmas tutorial?”
“Clearly,” Esa said, cackling. “Unless we want another chocolate crucifix episode.”
“It was a joke!” Tahsin protested. Her tone turned sober. “We want to make a good impression on Tom and his family. For your sake, Sameera.”
Despite herself, she was touched by her mother’s words, however misguided. “Tom and I are only friends,” she repeated.
“Friends with benefits?” her mother asked, and both Sameera and Esa stared at her, appalled.
“Mom, ew,” Esa said.
“Do you know what that means?” Sameera asked.
“It means you are friends, with the possibility of it turning into a real relationship,” Tahsin said indignantly. “I know things.”
Sameera closed her eyes. “I have work to do. Have fun. And you should definitely start with Home Alone. It’s a classic.”
It was hard to concentrate with her family laughing in the sitting room, and she needed more coffee to counteract the jet lag.
She ventured outside in search of caffeine and took her time preparing a cup, peeking at the television while the espresso maker puttered.
On screen, Macaulay Culkin, a.k.a. Kevin McCallister, was telling his mother that he didn’t want his family, that families sucked.
She felt a pang at this and hurried back to her room.
“You’re working so hard, beta. Why don’t you join us?” her father called twenty minutes later, and Sameera hesitated.
“We saved you some popcorn,” Tahsin wheedled.
A few minutes might make her feel more refreshed, Sameera thought. She settled between her parents on the sofa, reaching for the popcorn. Soon, she was laughing alongside her parents and Esa at Kevin’s antics, and she couldn’t force herself to get up once the bowl was empty.
“I don’t understand how this is a Christmas movie,” Tahsin said. “A white, upper-middle-class child is left alone in his house by accident and thwarts robbers by mutilating them. It doesn’t seem very festive.”
“It’s funny. Humor is very Christmas,” Sameera said.
“Kevin has every advantage—youth, intelligence, the privilege of a large home with plenty of resources, not to mention familiarity with the terrain. No serious scholar who watched this movie would assume those clueless ‘robbers’ had the upper hand,” Tahsin argued.
“Home Alone seems anti-Christmas, if you ask me.”
“Firstly, it’s a children’s movie,” Sameera said. “Secondly, it made a gazillion dollars and spawned an entire franchise. There’s snow, Santa, and twinkly lights. Ergo, Christmas movie.”
This started a lively debate over what was considered a Christmas movie versus a movie only set during the holidays. Sameera grabbed her yellow legal pad to list the essential ingredients for a holiday movie, according to the Maliks.
“We’re agreed, then,” she said. “It’s a Christmas movie if there is a scene in a church, a holiday song, culturally specific accoutrements like Santa or an elf, and most importantly if it includes . . .” She checked her notes. “The central Christmas themes of love, charity, and forgiveness.”
“Instantaneous redemption appears to be another common theme,” Naveed mused.
“Think about Ebenezer Scrooge. He wakes after a night of being terrorized by ghosts with a sudden change of heart and a complete personality transplant. In reality, change is difficult, and redemption only possible after much effort and time.” He looked thoughtful, then added, “Most modern Scrooges, our modern billionaire industrialists, are so far removed from their lower-level employees, this level of empathy would be nearly impossible.”
Sameera and Esa threw popcorn at Naveed, always the academic.
“I’ve never understood elves,” Tahsin admitted. “Are they like jinn?” She referred to the beings made of smokeless fire known as the Unseen, which were part of the Muslim belief system.
“No, jaan, they’re more like angels. Santa is their imam, and they help him,” Naveed said.
“Okay, but have you ever seen one of those Elf on a Shelf things? Those guys are definitely jinn,” Esa said. “One time when we were kids, Tyler invited me to his house around Christmas, and he told me the elf moved in the night and spied on the kids to make sure they behaved.”
“Not a jinni,” Sameera said firmly. Most Westerners had no concept of the Unseen beyond the “genie” in Aladdin’s lamp; the opposite seemed to be the case for her Muslim family, who suspected the presence of jinn everywhere.
“I never understood why they decorate pine trees instead of palm trees,” her little brother said now. “Prophet Esa was born in the Middle East. Not a conifer in sight.”
“The pine trees are tradition, not religion, like breaking your fast with samosas or haleem,” Sameera said absently.
“Prophet Esa was born in the spring, in any case,” Tahsin added.
“I read that somewhere. But December is a convenient time to celebrate, nah? Not much else to do in the middle of winter. It’s like with your Yaqub Nana—no one knew when his birthday really was, so we just celebrated every Fourth of July. Easy to remember.”
Usually, Sameera became impatient with her family’s random musings, but tonight she felt buoyed by a sense of contentment. When the movie finished, Tahsin waited until both men had cleared out before turning to Sameera.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you laugh like that,” Tahsin said, reaching out to smooth Sameera’s hair.
The gesture was automatic and affectionate.
Sameera wondered if her mother was thinking about the scene halfway through the movie, when Kevin spoke with his scary neighbor at church about his fears, and the neighbor confided that he was estranged from his adult son, and had been for years.
The scene had hit Sameera especially hard.
They had never really talked about Sameera’s love life before her situation with Hunter blew up.
Her parents had been raised in traditional South Asian families in India, and hadn’t learned how to talk to their children about relationships, romantic and otherwise.
That was part of the problem, Sameera knew.
She had internalized their silence until it had grown toxic.
“I like Tom a lot,” Tahsin said.
“I’m aware I don’t have the best track record when it comes to men,” Sameera started. She knew she should try to convince her mother that she and Tom weren’t together, but she was tired, and the evening had been so peaceful that she didn’t want to get into another argument about this tonight.
“What Hunter did was not your fault,” Tahsin said, her voice so severe it made Sameera blink. She patted her daughter on her shoulder. “In any case, you have learned from your mistakes and have chosen better, this time. Alhamdulillah.”
A feeling rose in Sameera’s throat: love, helplessness, despair, all mixed together.
Even though Tom wasn’t her boyfriend, it soothed something in her heart to hear that her mother approved, or at least didn’t immediately jump to judgment.
Perhaps if she had been more open about Hunter all those years ago, things might have turned out differently.
Or maybe the pain that Hunter had caused her and her family was the price for this new understanding. A scary thought.
“We are always on your side,” Tahsin said.
Naveed had finished tidying the kitchen, and he came to join them, taking his wife’s arm. With a hushed “shabba khair”—“good night”—they made their way to their bedroom, leaving Sameera in the dark.