The Chai Factor
Page 27
Sameer’s cheeks tinged with pink while he translated. “While singing alone in the moonlight, your voice came from the mountains, washed in sunlight. Without your song, even my loneliness is no longer my own.” He giggled nervously. “Or something like that . . . it’s from a Bollywood movie.”
“Mere Dil Ki Awaaz,” Reena added. “I love that movie. Super romantic.”
“Ooh, let’s watch it when we get home. And sing the whole thing to me later, okay, babe?” Travis said as Sameer blushed. “I’m still in shock. Sameer? Planning a spectacle like that?” He kissed Sameer’s cheek again.
“Why the spectacle?” Justine asked. “Good thing I was here to see it. No one back home will believe this. It’s so completely unlike you.”
Sameer looked at Travis’s face affectionately. “Travis deserves it. After what I’ve put him through, he deserved to hear me say I love him and want to spend the rest of my life with him sung from the top of the CN Tower. I’m taking control of my own gossip. Let them try to beat this.” His smile waned just a bit. “Did you see my grandmother?”
“I’m sorry, Sameer. I think she left,” Amira said.
Travis squeezed a bit tighter. “It’s okay, babe.”
“I know,” Sameer said. “It’ll be fine. If they can’t accept me, then . . . it’s fine. Travis has enough family to go around. And I have these guys . . .” He turned and smiled at Barrington, whose arm was around Marcia’s waist. Barrington grinned and gave Sameer a thumbs-up.
Someone was missing from this little family. The person Sameer had called the glue that held them together. Amira bit her lip, saying nothing about their missing baritone.
“Where did you get your ridiculous new name? The A-Team?” Reena asked.
“It’s for you.” Sameer smiled at Amira.
“For me?”
Travis laughed. “Yeah, Amira’s Team. We were trying to think of a name a few days ago and got stuck on trying to think of something with our first initials.”
Barrington chimed in. “And with the rest of the guys’ names spelling out STD . . . well, we needed to add you.”
Travis grinned. “You’ve been there since we first came together, and we felt like you were really a member of our group.”
“We were almost going with Amira’s Boys, but Barry thought of the A-Team,” Sameer added.
“I’m going to get some gold chains for our next show. Beats spandex and sequins,” Barrington said matter-of-factly.
Amira laughed as her chest swelled with pride. These were her guys. It was humbling to be considered one of their team.
A firm hand tapping her shoulder startled her. She stilled. She knew it was Duncan. Her heart started racing.
“Hi,” he said when she turned around. There was that unfamiliar expression again. Uneasy. Hurt. She hated it on him.
“Congratulations,” Amira said.
“Thanks. Third place isn’t so bad . . .” He ran his hand over his beard. “Um, can we talk? My brother wants to apologize to you. He’s waiting by my truck.”
Amira looked at Duncan. Really looked at him. He looked almost the same as the day she first saw him. Plaid shirt. Suspenders. Bright-red beard and the greenest eyes she had ever seen. The confident swagger had lessened, but he was still the same man she’d dismissed when he walked down that train aisle. Two weeks wasn’t enough time to develop such strong feelings, either positive or negative, for anyone, but Amira wasn’t one to bullshit herself. She had developed strong feelings for him. She might just be in love with him.
Ryan wanted to apologize to her. No doubt Duncan gave him an earful about what Maddie had done to Zahra. He didn’t believe the same things as his brother, and he was trying hard with his niece. She looked at Duncan’s face. He was a good man, she had to believe that.
She would listen to him, and to his brother. She owed him that much. She wasn’t about to do this alone, though. “Okay. Reena comes, too.”
Duncan looked like he was going to object, but Amira raised one eyebrow, daring him to. “Fine.”
The blue skies and bright sun outside bathed Amira in a warmth that should have relaxed her muscles as they walked. But in reality, she had never felt more knots in her shoulders as she followed Duncan across the parking lot towards an enormous black pickup truck. Her heart was beating too fast, her hands were sweaty, and all she wanted to do was scream fuck you to the man she could see leaning against the truck, looking at his phone. But for the sake of the larger man with the tense back who she was following, she wouldn’t. She would hear Ryan’s apology.
“Ryan, you remember Amira Khan. And this is Amira’s friend, Reena.”
“Pleasure to see you again,” Ryan drawled. Even his voice sounded like Duncan’s. It was disconcerting. He was like the anti–Duncan Galahad. The evil one.
Amira nodded.
“I owe you an apology,” Ryan started. “I heard about the texts Maddie sent your sister. I’m sorry it upset her.”
“You didn’t know your daughter texted that stuff to her?” Amira asked.
“Nah, I didn’t even know they were texting each other. But kids, you know how it is. The things they pick up at school. Maddie didn’t mean any offence.”
“She called my sister a terrorist. I’m thinking she did mean offence,” Amira said.
Ryan’s posture stiffened. “She’s just a kid. You have to remember, we live in a small town. There’s not a lot of different kinds of people at Maddie’s school, and you know how kids talk.”
“I also know how adults talk,” Amira said.
“And I’ve seen your Twitter account,” Reena added. “All your ‘Canadian values,’ and ‘immigrants are destroying the country’ bullshit. You’re an online troll. Actually, a white supremacist.”
Ryan’s nostrils flared at Reena before turning back to Amira. “Well, I didn’t mean you specifically. Anyway, Duncan here told me how he’s gotten to know you and your family, and you’re not like the others . . . so, I’m sorry we offended you. I think if we take the time to get to know each other, maybe I’ll see things different.” He looked at his brother before turning back to Amira. “Forgive me?”
That was a terrible apology, but at least he looked sincere. Like his brother, there was something honest about Ryan Galahad. The kind of man who told his own truths, no-holds-barred. Not hiding behind masks or false manners. Not altering his behaviour to suit the others around him, ever.
Because he never really had to.
Amira looked him right in the eye. “I’m going to be straight with you, Ryan. I’m glad you apologized, even though that wasn’t the best apology. I’m not sure you’ve figured out what a raging asshole you are, but at least you tried. It took your brother getting close to a Muslim for you to realize we are people, and for your daughter’s sake, I’m glad you figured that out. But no, I don’t forgive you. You said I’m not like the others? Well, you couldn’t be more wrong. I am exactly like the others. My parents are immigrants. I am a Muslim. I may not be very devout, but I’m a believer. I am exactly who you say is destroying the country. And now you want to get to know me? Sorry, but I don’t have any intention of wasting my time with someone so he can learn not to be a racist dick. Read a fucking book for your education, bud.”
Ryan’s teeth clenched. He looked to Duncan, whose expression was harder to read. “I said I was sorry,” Ryan finally said. “I feel bad, and I’m trying to make amends, and now you’re calling me an asshole? What is it you want from me, lady?”
Amira stood taller. “I don’t want anything from you. You’re the one who wants something from me. You want forgiveness, so you can feel better about yourself. And now I’m the villain because I won’t grant it to you? You wronged us. You and your irrational hatred hurt my sister in a way she’ll never forget. She felt betrayed beyond belief when her new friend abandoned her and called her horrific names. You have a daughter that age, you know how fragile their self-worth is. How hard they want to fit in. You taught my sister that
, no matter how sweet she is, no matter how many late-night texts she sends her friends gushing about ballet movies, there will always be people who won’t respect her because of her religion, her skin, or her culture, and who won’t see the awesome kid she is. And by the way, Zahra’s awesomeness is partly because of her religion, her culture, and her skin. Not in spite of it. I don’t want your apology. It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than words to make amends for what you are doing to us.” She turned and started to walk away.
“Amira, wait,” Duncan called after her.
Pausing, Amira turned back to them. As they stood next to each other, all Amira could see was how similar Duncan and Ryan looked. Similar eyes. Similar facial shape. Similar posture. Cut from the same cloth? She had thought Duncan different from his family, but as he himself told her once, the small-town gentleman he was raised to be would always be in there.
A relationship with Duncan would mean connections and family contact. Birthday parties and weddings. Friday dinners and holidays. What would Duncan say if his family made towel-head jokes at the dinner table? Or if they started spewing nonsense against immigration or the country’s welcoming of refugees? What would he say to his family if they hurt Zahra again? Would he be loyal to his family, or to her? Or both?
Duncan would support her. He would stand up for her, and insist they apologize to her, like he probably insisted Ryan apologize today. He would smooth everything out, hoping everyone would be civil to each other. And it would happen again. And there would be tension, and family fights, and avoidance. And she could never be herself around them. She would always be censuring herself, worried about confirming their preconceptions about her. And she would resent Duncan for it.
“And you know what the worst part is?” she said before either of the brothers could speak. “I believe you. I believe you both feel bad about upsetting Zahra. Even though you are terrible at apologizing, Ryan, you’re not lying; you meant that apology. You know how I know that? Because I know Duncan, and what you see is what you get. I don’t know you, Ryan, but I suspect you’re the same way. You’re both unapologetically yourselves. And that is a privilege people like me don’t have. We’re always hiding behind masks, trying to fit ourselves to what people like you think we should be. I don’t have the luxury to be outraged. Because if I act like the outspoken bitch that Duncan knows I am, I’m the one in the wrong. I’m the villain. The angry Muslim, disenfranchised enough to join a terror cell. I’m done with this shit. I’m not what’s wrong with this country, Ryan, you are. Let’s go, Reena.” This time she really walked away, and neither Galahad brother tried to stop her. Good.
Chapter Thirty-Two
AMIRA’S EXIT WOULD have been a hell of a lot more dramatic if she and Reena didn’t have to walk the length of the parking lot to get to Reena’s car, while two sets of Galahad eyes watched. It probably would have been better, too, if she hadn’t dropped her purse while only about three cars away from the enormous truck, her hands shaking too much for her to keep a grip on it.
“You okay?” Reena asked, holding Amira’s elbow.
“I will be,” Amira said between clenched teeth. “I just need to get out of here.”
The second she closed the door of Reena’s car, her text tone rang. That had better not be Duncan-fucking-Galahad, begging her to come back and let him speak. No. She was going to be the one to get the last word with the Galahad brothers.
Thankfully, it was Sameer instead.
Sameer
We’re going out for dinner and drinks to celebrate. You coming?
Amira
Who’s going?
Sameer
Whole A-Team plus Marcia and Justine. Third place is worthy of celebration.
Amira dropped her head to rest on the window, heart still beating too fast, and hands still shaking too much.
Amira
I don’t think so. Would love to see you and Travis before you go, though. When you leaving?
Sameer
Not till tomorrow. Barry and Duncan are packed and leaving straight after dinner. Travis and I will leave late tomorrow morning. Can we do breakfast first?
Amira
Sure. No problem. See you in the morning.
Amira turned her phone off and tossed it in her purse. “Take me home, Reena.”
When she got home, Amira found her mother alone in the dining room, setting the table. The house smelled strongly of Nanima’s cooking, but Amira couldn’t see her grandmother. Mum immediately turned to Amira, face washed with concern and curiosity. “Good, Amira, you’re here. What happened today?” she asked.
How did Mum know something had happened at the competition? “Why?” Amira asked.
Mum spread out three plates on the table. “Nanima got a call from Shirin. Something to do with Sameer’s show. She immediately went into her room to speak privately.”
Gossip spreads fast . . . Shirin was likely telling Nanima all about Sameer’s marriage proposal. Amira bit her tongue so she wouldn’t swear in front of Zahra. Wait, Zahra wasn’t here. “Where’s Zahra? Why isn’t she setting the table?”
Mum walked into the kitchen and started pouring water into glasses. “She’s having dinner and spending the night across the street at Olivia’s. I’m working at four in the morning. I know your paper’s due and I don’t want her bothering you. Olivia’s mother offered to take Zahra to school.”
Amira joined her mother in the kitchen to get spoons. “What about Nanima?” Nanima watched Zahra and took her to school in the morning regularly—several times a week when Mum worked early.
“I just . . . I wanted to give my mother some quiet time. What happened at the show?”
“You don’t know what Shirin told Nanima?” she asked.
“No clue,” Mum said. “I was—”
“Amira!” Nanima appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Oh, my poor beta. I am so sorry. I heard about what happened today.” She approached Amira, arms outstretched.
Amira stiffened as her grandmother hugged her. This was not good.
“Shirin told me what Sameer did at his show. I am going to bring them dinner. She can’t cook in her condition. Your mum can stay here with you, if you are upset, too.”
Mum looked confused. “What did Sameer do? Are you upset, Amira?”
Amira’s teeth clenched. “Yes, I had a terrible day. But Sameer had nothing to do with it. I’m very happy about what Sameer did today.”
“What did he do?” Mum asked again.
Nanima pulled out a few large glass bowls from a low cupboard. “He sang a song to that boy, the one he came here with. The one that cuts hair. I knew I shouldn’t have rented to those men, look what they did to little Sameer! I’m so sorry, Amira. You were going out with him.” She started spooning rice from a pot on the stove into one of the bowls.
“He did what?” Mum asked.
Amira turned to her mother. “It was sweet, Mum. Sameer proposed to Travis onstage today.” She forced a smile at her grandmother. “They’ve been together for over a year. I was never really dating Sameer. I’m sorry for misleading you.”
Mum’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh my,” she said.
Nanima’s jaw tightened. “A year? You told me he was going out with you.” She shook the wooden spoon in her hand at Amira’s face, causing small grains of rice to fly about the room. “Shirin said you knew about them, but I told her you wouldn’t lie to me. And those two are not getting married. They can’t, two boys cannot get married.”
“Yes, they can,” Mum said, her voice rising to match her mother’s. “Same-sex marriage has been legal for well over a decade.”
Nanima turned to look at Mum, face flashing with an expression Amira hadn’t seen on her usually loving grandmother. Fury? Disappointment?
The stare-off between Mum and Nanima went on for several long seconds. And then even longer. There was a silent conversation moving between their eyes that Amira couldn’t begin to understand. What the hell was going on?
Finally, Nanima turned away from Mum and resumed spooning dal from a pot with sharp movements. “All of you lied to us,” she spat out, voice shaking with anger. “After everything I’ve done for you, you would disappoint your family like this? I expected more from you, Amira.”
Mum stepped forward, in front of Amira. “What would compel any of us to be honest with you when this is what you give us for it? You, and everyone like you, can’t play God forever. Eventually, you have to let people live their own lives, even if it’s against your backwards beliefs.” She spun, grabbing the rest of the pot of dal in one hand and the rice in the other, walked to the dining room, and thumped them down on the table.
Amira picked up a third pot containing eggplant and slowly made her way over to sit with her mother. There was definitely more to this conversation than Sameer and Travis.
Nanima left the house without another word. Mum didn’t turn around, just continued quietly spooning yogourt onto her plate.
“Mum?” Amira said.
“Yes?”
“What the hell is going on?”
“Nothing. You tell me, Amira.” She put a fresh chapatti on her plate, then held one out for Amira, still not looking up. “You said you were upset, but not about Sameer. What were you upset about?”
“Mum.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t do this. Tell me what you two were really talking about.”
“Amira, please . . .”
“Does this have anything to do with that new man you’re dating? Nanima found out he’s not Muslim?”
Mum put down her spoon. She finally looked at Amira’s face. “No. She still doesn’t know I’m seeing anyone. But . . . Amira, I’m not dating a man. I’m dating a woman.”
Amira blinked repeatedly.