by Farah Heron
“Whatever you need,” he said, coming up behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders. Amira leaned into him. God, it felt good to have someone prop her up when life threw landslides in her path. This. This was what she needed.
He rubbed her shoulders. “Are you sure he didn’t like it? Seems weird he would say this right before your due date.”
She lowered her head to give Duncan more access to rub her neck. “I know, but he was busy. He couldn’t get back to me any sooner.” After a long sigh, she eased away from him and started pulling sweatpants and T-shirts out of her drawers. Would she need anything nicer? She dug out some dark-wash jeans. Taking the ten o’clock would get her to the lab by one at the latest. If she worked through the night, she had just enough time to run a new algorithm and write up the report. Maybe.
“Wait, are you leaving?” Duncan asked.
She nodded. “I need to rerun the algorithm.”
“Who is this Raymond guy, anyway? One of your professors?”
“No, my mentor. He works at the firm I’m going back to.” She stepped into the bathroom to pack up her makeup.
“A colleague? And you’re just going to leave town because of his comment? How could he know what your professor is looking for?”
Amira walked back into the bedroom and looked at Duncan. Was he arguing with her about this? “Of course he knows. He was in the same master’s program years ago. Raymond wrote me the recommendation to get into grad school.”
“Well, what happens if your professor doesn’t like the paper? You don’t get your degree?”
“No. She’ll send it back with suggested revisions.”
“So, what’s the problem? Send it in and see what she thinks.”
“Duncan, I can’t send a crappy project! I need my professor to give me a good recommendation so my boss will realize I know what the fuck I’m doing.”
“Ah. So, it’s to impress your dickhead boss.” He paused. “Let me see the email . . .”
Gritting her teeth, Amira went back to her desk and opened the email. She stepped aside to let him read it. She didn’t know what he expected to find. It was just like a man to not trust her ability to understand a goddamn email.
“Okay, I don’t know much about engineering,” he said, “so I can’t say whether he has a valid point about your references or the practicality of this analysis he’s rambling on about, but this part sounds mighty condescending to me. I detect a whiff of jealousy.”
“What? He’s not jealous. He’s my mentor!”
“Yeah? Well, you seem blinded by hero worship. A mentor shouldn’t say things like ‘It is an ambitious effort, but maybe you need to narrow your scope to your ability.’ And he shouldn’t be so impressed that your writing is articulate. You’re a thirty-year-old grad student. I should hope you’d be articulate by now.”
Amira frowned, but considered the possibility. Raymond? Jealous? “A mentor is supposed to give constructive feedback.”
“But this isn’t constructive! Your report is due in three days! Can’t you see that he’s not acting in your best interests here, Amira? It’s so clear!” Duncan stood, looming over her.
Amira took a step away from him, her jaw clenched so tight she heard it pop. It was unbelievable that after everything they’d gone through in the last few days, Duncan turned out to be yet another in the long list of men who thought they knew more about her career than she did. She silently counted to five in her head before speaking. She needed to figure out what to do about her project, and arguing with the garden gnome wasn’t helping.
“You’re right about one thing, Duncan; you know nothing about how things work in graduate school. You’re the one butting into something outside your scope. Go buy shoes with your little singing group and keep your uninformed opinions to yourself. I have to pack.”
Duncan’s face clouded in anger. “I’m sorry, Your Royal Highness. I forgot, I am just a mere musician.” He paused. “I may not know about engineering, but I’m a teacher, remember? I went to graduate school, and I know my way around education. There is no need to call everyone around you stupid just to convince yourself that you’re smart.”
He paused, staring at her for several long seconds. Finally, through gritted teeth, he spoke. “Deal with your issues without tearing down the people who care about you. You’re better than that.” He left, slamming the door behind him.
Amira swore loudly as she threw the open textbook on her desk against the wall. It landed on the floor with a loud thump, leaving a grey smudge on her white walls. She was so angry, she was shaking.
And she was so completely done with men who assumed they knew everything better than she did just because of that extra appendage dangling between their legs. Not half an hour ago, she had been thinking about how great it was to have someone to share the next few days with. A special gift the universe had granted her to help her right when she needed it. But no. Duncan wasn’t some magical gnome that fate sent her way, he was just another man who couldn’t see anything past the end of his damn beard. Fuck him.
She sat on her bed, rubbing her temples as her fury eased. What had he meant by tearing people down?
Did she do that? Amira accepted that she had a nasty temper and a tendency to judge others, especially when she felt cornered. The names she’d called Duncan since the day they met were evidence enough that she’d been tearing him down since the moment he boarded her train. But doing it to boost her own worth? That was . . . mean, even for her.
She bristled. But why shouldn’t she prejudge people? She’d been judged almost daily since the day she decided to study engineering. Actually, long before that. Can’t possibly be as good at advanced math as a guy. Can’t be taken seriously in STEM since she wears makeup and loves her hair. Canadian girls don’t wear underwear. Muslim girls are chaste and modest.
Arabic art on her phone means she’s a terrorist.
Another knock on her door. Jesus, why couldn’t these Y chromosomes leave her alone? It might just be easier at this point to replace her goddamn door with a revolving one.
Sameer this time, eyes wide with concern, hair dishevelled.
“You okay? We heard a crash,” he said.
Amira cringed as she fetched the fallen corpse of her physics textbook from its resting place near the wall.
“Sorry. Had a fight with my textbook.”
He walked into the room. “Looks like you won.”
“I always win.” She sat on the edge of her bed. “I thought you guys were going shoe shopping.”
“Duncan just said, ‘Screw shoes,’ and left, so I’m thinking, no.” He smirked and fell onto the desk chair heavily. Sameer looked exhausted. Red eyes and slumped shoulders.
“What’s your issue, Sameer? You look like shit,” she said.
He chuckled. “It’s taken some work to get used to your bluntness, Amira. Just didn’t sleep much last night.”
It didn’t look like his lack of sleep was due to the same enjoyable distractions as hers. Amira’s stomach knotted when she remembered what she had said to Duncan. Had she really implied he was unintelligent?
“You and Travis fighting?”
He smiled sadly. “You’d think I’d be used to it. He slept on the couch last night. Again. We made up this morning, but I’m wiped.”
“What happened?”
“I told him he didn’t have to come to my aunt’s party if he didn’t want to. I thought he’d be happy to get out of it. But the suggestion didn’t go well.”
Amira slid down the bed until she faced him and put her hand on his knee. He had to understand this. He had to get why suggesting that Travis skip the party would only make things worse, not better.
“Sameer, Travis is your partner, not a casual fling. You have to include him in your life.”
“I know. I thought it would be easier, for both of us, but—”
“Travis doesn’t want easy. Good relationships are never easy.”
After a few moments of
painful silence, he raised his chin. “So, the honeymoon’s already over for you guys, too? You and Duncan want to kill each other again?”
It seemed so trivial compared to what Sameer was going through; she didn’t feel right bringing it up. “Yeah. He was being a little . . . paternalistic.”
Sameer laughed again, still looking at his fingers. Finally, he looked up at Amira. “I know the most serious relationship I’ve ever been in is a complete mess right now, so maybe I’m not the best one to give you advice, but I’m going to anyway. Forgive little things, Amira. Some things are so big you can’t compromise, but little things? Love is worth compromising the little things.”
Amira swallowed. Love? Already? “Duncan and I just got together a few days ago . . . we’re nowhere near . . . there, yet.”
“I know. But you won’t have the chance to be more if you can’t compromise now.” He paused. “You two remind me of Travis and me when we met, except we didn’t have the near bloodshed. We were so different, from different worlds, really, and not just because of religion and culture. I was a science student, he was an artist. He was out; I was . . . not. I barely accepted myself as a gay man then, and Travis was the exact opposite of who I thought I should be with.”
“I think our expectations are our worst enemies.”
“Yeah. Maybe it’s the Indian in me, but I thought I wanted an educated professional. I imagined my family wouldn’t care if I was gay if I came home with a surgeon or something . . . but that’s not really what I wanted. All I wanted was Travis. From the moment I saw him, I only wanted him.”
Amira straightened. “So, fight for him, Sameer! Make sure he, and the rest of the world, knows how important he is to you!”
“I know.” He shrugged sadly. “I’m . . . I just don’t think I’m strong enough for him. He’ll realize it soon enough. But, you and Duncan . . . you two are different. I know he’s crazy about you. You guys could have something.”
“We’re from different worlds, too.”
“What do you mean? Because he’s not Ismaili?”
That wasn’t really the issue. Maybe. Amira had dated men belonging to pretty much every major religion, but never anyone serious. “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like no one really gets me, and maybe if I found someone culturally more like me, they’d understand me better. I wouldn’t have to explain myself. Maybe not fight so much.”
Sameer nodded. Of course he understood her. “I get that. Religion’s just one part of you, though.” He paused. “What did you guys fight about?”
“My project. My mentor, Raymond, pretty much said it was crap. Duncan said the guy sounded jealous.”
Sameer smiled. “Typical Duncan.”
“What do you mean?”
“He is the most loyal guy I know. Of course he wouldn’t believe your mentor’s assessment. Duncan will always be on your side.”
“He should have stayed out of it. I didn’t get this far in my field without a shitload of men giving me unwanted career advice. When it comes to knowing what’s best for me, I can only trust two men.”
“Who?”
“My dad and Raymond. Raymond is on my side. And Duncan didn’t listen to me when I tried to tell him that.”
“He cares about you and didn’t like what the guy was saying about your work.”
Amira bit her lip. Duncan did care about her—she didn’t need anyone to convince her of that fact. And he did have a protective, white-knighting issue. Was it possible Duncan’s outburst wasn’t mansplaining but another case of Sir Galahad leaping to her rescue? And of course, Amira always became defensive when challenged, which only aggravated the situation.
But Duncan had been right about one thing at least—she had torn him down to make herself feel smart enough for grad school. He saw her—straight through her nastiness to the insecurities she hid below. Damn.
“I got angry at him. I yelled at him,” she said.
Sameer said nothing, but one side of his mouth upturned.
“I know, typical Amira. I scream before I think. But I may have implied he was unintelligent,” she said.
“He’s really smart. Honestly.”
“I know. He touched a nerve, and I lashed out. We are both really good at that, it seems.”
This time Sameer couldn’t hold in his smile. “There’s something about you two. You seem patient with other people . . .”
“I’m not,” Amira said, leaning back and wrapping her arms around her legs. “I wonder if it’s worth all this trouble,” she whispered, resting her head on her knees. She glanced at Sameer. He really looked terrible. She would bet all the chai in the house that he had cried himself to sleep last night. Sameer was a sensitive soul, and seeing him in pain broke Amira’s heart. She had never had a relationship anywhere as long or as serious as Sameer and Travis’s, but she’d seen enough to know that heartbreak was inevitable.
When her parents divorced years ago, both her mum and dad had been furious with each other but also sad they hadn’t been able to make it work, combined with a heavy dose of guilt for hurting their daughters plus the shame of a whole community judging them and seeing them as failures for divorcing. Could all that pain be avoided?
“It would never be easy with me and Duncan. We are so different, and completely terrible at dealing with each other. My parents couldn’t make it work. I don’t want that to happen to me.”
Sameer scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. Give up on happiness because one day it might end? Take the chance, Amira! Travis and I are in a rough spot, but it doesn’t mean I regret starting the relationship. It is so worth it. Duncan may be different from you, but he’ll never understand you if you don’t let him try. Don’t drive him away expecting the worst. Fight for the best instead.”
Fight for the best? Amira knew a thing or two about fighting for what she wanted. She just needed to determine if this fight was worth it.
Chapter Twenty-One
AMIRA DIDN’T CATCH that ten o’clock bus to Kingston. Instead, she showered, changed, and sat back at her desk to reread both her report and Raymond’s email, trying her best to look at them objectively. To her, the work looked fine. Good, even. True, the journal articles were not an exact match to her project, but that was the point. Science was about extrapolating specifics from broad data. Her analysis seemed sound. Her applications relevant. Was it possible Duncan was onto something?
Raymond was her superior at work, a senior engineer. But after she returned next month with her master’s degree, they would both have the same level of education. Amira transitioning from subordinate to peer couldn’t be the problem—the point of their mentorship had been for him to guide her towards a senior role. He encouraged her to go to grad school. How could he be jealous that she was now finishing?
Asking him for help in the first place so many years ago had been outside her comfort zone, but Raymond was different than any other man she’d worked with. Never any off-colour remarks about her gender. Never subtly discounting what she said and then taking her ideas for himself. He had always been her fiercest cheerleader. She doubted anyone would have taken notice of her at Hyde without Raymond’s championing.
But there was no question that things at Hyde had changed since she left two years ago. When they’d had lunch together, Raymond said that Jim was nothing like Jennifer, but was still a great, supportive boss.
But then he discounted Jim’s obvious sexism and told her she was imagining it. Minimizing Amira’s experiences was not something Raymond had done before. That was gas-lighting. And she had been too caught up in hero worship to notice it.
She should talk to Duncan. Years with a temper worse than Hades’s meant she knew when to grovel, and being born and raised in Canada meant she knew how to apologize. But issues with her lumberjack could wait, for now. What she needed first was a second opinion on her report.
And there was only one person she could think of who would give her honest feedback on short notice. Her father. She had been reluct
ant to show him her school work before, but she was out of options at this point.
Once she had her dad on the phone, she explained the situation with Raymond’s assessment.
“Of course I’ll look at it. I have back-to-back meetings for the next few days, but I’ll find time.”
“I was thinking I should just head back to Kingston and rework the algorithm.”
“I doubt that will be necessary. You know what you’re doing. Plus, at this point, you don’t really have the time to start over. Don’t run away, Amira. We can fix this together. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
Amira exhaled. With his steady voice, her father had a way of calming her like no one else, but at the same time, she recognized a flutter in her stomach over the thought of him reading her crap paper. But he was right—there wasn’t really enough time to rework the whole algorithm.
“Okay, thanks, Dad. I’m sending it now. Love you.”
“Love you, too. I’ll be in touch.”
Now what? If she didn’t go back to Kingston, she could go to the reference library or even search journals online for better supporting documentation. She could rewrite the analysis and try to explain the rationalization behind it better.
Or she could wait for her father. She could trust him. Hell, she could learn to trust her own abilities. And trust Duncan.
Amira stood. What she needed was to see him. She needed to know exactly how badly she had screwed up. But Sameer said Duncan went out. She didn’t know where, or how long he’d be gone. Should she text him an apology? Send him a cute emoji? Or was that too couple-y? This was supposed to be casual, but just waiting for him to reappear was risky, too—all the terrible things she’d said to him would play repeatedly through his mind the longer he was alone.