Chapter 9
·
“Are you sure you don’t want me to hang back?
” Hena asked again. She stood on the dock with the others as they adjusted their puffy orange life vests.
The airboat idled to their right. She knew the threat had passed.
She knew Lulu was fine—her hives were practically gone—but worry still lingered in Hena’s bones.
“For the thousandth time, I’m fine. I promise,” Lulu assured her.
“The kitchen’s cleared, and since you found that pistachio shell in the elevator, the cleaning crew’s wiping down the rest of the property too.
We also let guests know they’ll have to do without their precious nuts this week.
And remember, Gita’s going to watch me like a hawk per Ammi’s orders.
There’s a reason the woman’s in the will. ”
“The will?” Hena blinked.
“I know,” Lulu said, clocking Hena’s expression. “I’d be weirded out too if I hadn’t seen what a lifesaver she’s been these last few months. Without Gita, there would be no wedding—she goes above and beyond.”
“What did Ammi put for her in the will?”
“It’s sweet, actually,” Lulu said. “Gita wants to go to med school, and Ammi’s been helping her pay for premed classes. She wanted to ensure the rest of Gita’s educational journey was taken care of no matter what. As a gesture of her gratitude.”
“That doesn’t sound odd to you? Sweet isn’t exactly Ammi’s MO.”
“You’d be surprised,” Lulu said. “She’s getting soft these days.”
Judging from Lulu’s nonchalant explanation, she clearly seemed fine with it.
Besides, it wasn’t like helping someone with their education was a bad thing.
As fraught as their relationship was, her mother had always cared about Hena’s education.
She had paid for the best tutors. Encouraged her to apply to as many top colleges as she wanted.
Education gives women choices, she would say.
If her mother was setting aside school funds for Gita, who was Hena to object?
“All right, no more stalling.” Lulu nudged her toward the boat.
Reluctantly, Hena snapped on her life jacket. The midday sun was bright overhead; a gentle wind tousled her hair and rustled the reeds along the water’s edge. She looked at the murky water and tried to relax.
Lulu is fine, she reminded herself. This airboat ride will be over before I know it.
Stepping onto the boat, her shoes skimmed the boat’s aluminum floor as she wiped perspiration from her brow. San Francisco had blessedly cool year-round temps that required layers. Here, even in January, the Florida heat was oppressive.
Reza stepped onto the boat after her. He took Irum’s hand to help her board.
Hena reached down to adjust her shoes as Irum sat next to Reza.
He whispered something in her ear Hena couldn’t quite make out, but whatever it was made her smile—a real smile that Hena realized she hadn’t seen since she’d arrived.
Courtney hopped in next and slid into the other empty spot next to Reza. She shifted closer, her blond ponytail brushing against his shoulder.
“Look, I love my Lulu,” she said in a not-so-quiet tone. “But buying a property in the middle of the swamp and frog-marching us onto an airboat? The beach is literally fifteen minutes away!”
“Right?” Maheen chimed in from across the boat. “I think her eco thing is great and all, but this nature stuff is a lot.”
Hena frowned. Swamp chic wasn’t exactly her vibe either, but she didn’t appreciate the gripe session.
“Gotta disagree. The swamp’s growing on me,” Reza told them. “It’s got character. I think the beach is kind of overdone.”
“Overdone?” Courtney pretended to look scandalized as she playfully swatted him.
Heat rose to Hena’s face as she watched Reza grin.
Just then, he turned back. Catching Hena’s eye, he smiled.
She returned it before casting her attention toward the water.
Reza was friendly. What was wrong with that?
The whole point of this trip was for the wedding party to mingle, wasn’t it?
Looking at Courtney and Reza, though, she thought of the gossip Maheen had shared.
Courtney and Reza were getting friendly.
Wasn’t there always a hint of truth behind every rumor?
She spotted Haris sitting at a middle bench. The sleeves of his salmon-colored shirt were rolled up, and his sunglasses were perched on his head.
“This spot taken?” she asked, walking over to him.
“All yours.” He patted the open space.
She sat next to him as Mansur stepped onto the boat; the engine hummed beneath them. The guide, a leathery man with a worn fishing hat and dog tags dangling from his neck, introduced himself as Bob.
“This airboat is the quietest of the fleet, but it’s not silent,” he warned as he handed each of them ear plugs to muffle the sound of the motor.
“Have fun, guys!” Lulu called from the dock as the boat pulled away. “Soak everything up for feedback later. I want complete honesty—that’s how we get better!”
The wind picked up as they gathered speed. Hena tried to steady herself as the boat rocked beneath her. The resort grew smaller and smaller before slipping out of sight.
“Shall we make a bet on who throws up first?” she asked Haris.
“I’ll go with me.” He gripped the side of the boat, a queasy look on his face.
“Oh, Haris.”
He grimaced. “I didn’t expect it to be quite this bumpy.”
“Me either,” she said. “This isn’t exactly a luxury ride.”
“I guess there’s a reason I haven’t been on one since we were kids. Remember that?”
She paused, caught off guard. “No?”
“We were, what, eleven or twelve?” He squinted, thinking back. “It was your dad’s idea. Lulu was maybe two years old. She kept demanding the captain let her steer the boat.”
His words sparked a hint of memory.
“The boat hit a rock or something,” Haris continued. “You were at the edge, and the whole bag of snacks you were holding fell into the water.”
Hena’s stomach turned, the memory flooding back.
“All those cookies and chips bobbing in Ziploc bags in the marsh.” Haris laughed. “Your mom’s hot mix broke open. The fish were all over it.”
“I remember,” she said.
How had she ever forgotten?
“Your dad saved the day.” Haris gave her a queasy smile. “He had diced Pakistani mangoes stashed in a cooler, and he shared them with all of us. Everyone forgot about the fallen snacks after that.”
No, Haris. Not everyone.
Haris didn’t know the rest of the story.
The silent car ride home. And later, once Lulu was out of earshot and her mother was taking a call with Khala, her father cornered Hena in her bedroom.
Slapped her open-palmed across the face so hard she’d stumbled back, her head cracking against the bedpost. He let her know what he thought of her: Careless. Ungrateful. An embarrassment.
Hena’s head hurt. Earlier, she’d told Reza she’d never ridden an airboat. But she had. Just as she’d erased the memory of the python her mother had rescued her from, she’d erased this too. When it came to her childhood, all she had to do was tap below the surface to find a painful bruise.
“I’m not going to make it,” Haris groaned.
“You’ve got this.” She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. His palms were clammy. “Close your eyes and breathe through your nose. Like in yoga.”
He closed his eyes and murmured, “Do I strike you as a yoga guy?”
“You strike me as someone who doesn’t want to vomit all over my shoes.”
He cracked a smile at this. “No, definitely not.”
“Just do it,” she insisted. “You’ll feel better. I promise.”
He did as she suggested. She dug through her purse and pulled out a ginger candy that had been buried in there, handing it to him.
He chewed, and a few minutes later he opened his eyes and exhaled.
“There we go,” he said. “I actually feel—”
“Hold on to your seats!” the guide called out.
The boat lurched forward. Hena shot her hand out to keep from crashing into Mansur and the other guests seated in front of her. Murky water splashed onto the boat.
“Hey! Watch it,” Haris shouted. He wiped his face.
“Sorry ’bout that,” Bob said. “Had to get around old Suzy—she’s big enough to topple this boat right over.”
As if on cue, they floated past the alligator, deep green and ridged. Only her unblinking eyes were visible above the water, watching them as they passed.
Haris groaned, wiping at his soaked shirt. “This was my brunch outfit.”
“It’s not too wet,” Hena said, brushing his sleeve. “Besides, the resort has dry cleaning, and you can always do a run home if you need. Do you still live in Brickell?”
“Yep. Chloe tried to get the house in the divorce, but that was not going to happen. Sometimes I wondered if she married me purely for the real estate.”
“Glad you were able to keep it,” she said. “Your house is gorgeous.”
Gorgeous was an understatement. His beachside estate was worthy of a feature in Architectural Digest. Hena remembered it warmly for all the memories it contained.
The barbecues and New Year’s parties she’d attended with Nasir.
It had been along the shoreline of Haris’s home that Nasir had taken her hand one balmy evening, gotten down on one knee, and asked her to marry him.
“She said yes!” he’d shouted to their friends peering down from the balcony above, who promptly erupted into cheers.
She smiled at the memory. Although what followed had been painful, this moment remained special. She looked over at Haris and noticed him watching her with an amused expression.
“What is it?” she asked.
“You know you still wrinkle your forehead when you’re deep in contemplation?”
“I do not.”
“You do. Ever since I’ve known you. You get lost in thought, and right here…” He lightly brushed the spot between her brows. “Every time.”
“Hmm. I don’t like being easy to read.”
“I think it’s cute.”
Cute? Something fluttered in her at his remark.