Scattered Ashes

by Dona Sarkar

  “We will be.”

  “No, we won’t,” I said bitterly.

  “We will be.” Lana pressed my knuckles against her lips and kissed them. “I got a very angry phone call from Ms. Nguyen. She suggested that I start seeing a therapist or join a support group rather than being selfish and just sweeping these issues out of sight. She’s worried that by you and I not talking about what happened, I’m actually hurting you more than helping you.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” I was furious at Ms. Nguyen for interfering. She had no right to treat me like a four-year-old.

  “But we have to. Don’t you see that? We need to grieve about what’s happening. You need to know that this feeling will not last forever and you are not alone in this.”

  “You’re ready to just let him go. Why are you just assuming he’s dead? Why is everyone acting like he’s gone?”

  Tears appeared in Lana’s eyes again.

  Take care of your mother.

  “I get this terrible feeling that you’re just pretending that he’s gone on one of his long overseas trips,” she said, the quiver apparent in her voice. “Mars, he’s not going to come back this time.”

  “You don’t know that,” I whispered into her shoulder. “You don’t have proof.”

  She held me tightly, and I just sat there inhaling the safety of her Chanel No. 5, neither of us talking.

  * * *

  Lana sniffed the air, the scent of cinnamon permeating the room. “I wonder what is going on in the kitchen.”

  For the past few hours, every once in a while we’d hear a noise or a clang, along with the front door opening and closing. Now there was just silence from the other part of the house.

  “Just to get one thing clear, Jason is not allowed in this house or near you.” Lana stood up and reached out her hand for mine. “I can’t imagine such hideous behavior from that kid. It’s absolutely unacceptable.”

  “They’re our neighbors and your friends. What are you going to do, slam the door in their faces?”

  “Absolutely. No one is allowed to talk to you that way.”

  I was secretly thrilled but knew that this would be harder for her than it would for me. She cared a lot about what her friends and neighbors thought, and she could hardly avoid the Moorehouses.

  I heard the whispering die down in the kitchen.

  “You ready to go in and see what Vivek and your friend have been up to?” she asked, dabbing underneath her eyes to erase the mascara smudges.

  “His name is Zayed, and he’s my SAT teacher.”

  “I see.”

  I was grateful that she didn’t ask and I didn’t have to answer the big question. Why was he here? He still hadn’t given me a straight answer, and I was not buying “to apologize in person,” which could have waited till Monday. Or “to bring college applications,” which was just ridiculous.

  I was afraid to face Zayed but knew it was unavoidable. I’d practically confessed my feelings for him, not having any idea if he shared any of them. I’d never done anything like that before and had no idea what to expect after.

  The kitchen had been transformed. The center island was populated with dishes loaded with omelets, toast, bacon, waffles, some sort of sandwich, and an assortment of pastries.

  Zayed and Vivek relaxed at the dining room table, holding mugs of coffee, a French cruller cut in half between them. Both stood when they saw us enter. I waited for one of them to make the first move toward us, but neither did.

  “This is amazing, you two. How did you do all this?” Lana gave me a gentle nudge when she saw me hanging back in the doorway. I wasn’t ready to go in and face Zayed. He knew how I felt about him now; he knew what I thought our relationship was. With my luck, he was just a concerned instructor and thought I was an overly dramatic teenage girl with a silly crush. I suspected I wouldn’t be able to live down the humiliation of the morning for a very long time.

  “Zayed managed to fix the refrigerator. We also got a few things delivered.” Vivek was immediately by Lana’s side. Again, that acting like he lived here annoyed me, but I had bigger things on my mind as Zayed also approached.

  Zayed avoided eye contact with me and glanced in Vivek’s direction. “Can I pour you a glass of juice? We squeezed the oranges ourselves.”

  I watched out of the corner of my eye as Lana led Vivek into the alcove and whispered something to him. They were both smiling, so I assumed nothing terrible had happened. I was hoping they would return quickly, but they looked to be taking their time. I couldn’t avoid Zayed any longer.

  “Hi,” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Please ignore my hair. I wasn’t expecting company.”

  I had absolutely no makeup on, my eyes were red from crying, and I was in leopard pajamas and slippers. I could barely look him in the eye.

  “You look loveliest right now. Free.”

  That was a nice way of putting it. Free, like a cavewoman. I’d always prided myself on looking put together at all times. Unlike my friends at school, I never arrived in sweatpants or old jeans. I was horrified that Zayed was seeing me this way, naked of my armor.

  I blushed and tilted my head in Lana and Vivek’s direction. “They’re talking about you,” I informed him, anxious to change the subject.

  He glanced over and shrugged as he poured me a glass of juice. “They ought to be. My appearance today was random at best, somewhat sinister at worst.”

  I laughed, surprised to hear him think that. “It was surprising. But definitely not sinister. I’m glad you stayed.”

  “I am too.”

  “Thank you.” I let my hand cover Zayed’s as I took the glass of orange juice, not letting go, yet still not able to look him in the eye. “Thanks for everything.”

  He faced me squarely, still holding onto the glass of juice. His eyes were clear and sparkling. “I’m sorry about what happened. I was rude to your friend. It was not my intention to cause you issues, but I was not going to listen to him talk about you as if you were ordinary. You are exceptional. He wasn’t able to see that, and it infuriated me.”

  I was exceptional all right. Exceptionally crazy in Jason’s eyes, and I apparently belonged in an asylum. He would tell everyone about this morning before the weekend was up. I didn’t know how I would face him or my classmates again.

  “It was just a matter of time before he and I had that discussion,” I tried to smile but felt the dread starting to rise inside me again. Bad things really did happen whenever Zayed showed up. I had to deal with that reality. But not now, not when he looked so concerned and beautiful and stood in my kitchen. “It really had nothing to do with you. I’m glad you’re here for breakfast.”

  “It’s an honor for me. And Mars, I know there is something in our relationship that’s special. This is new for me, but I am enjoying the adventure we are on. I’m enjoying you very much. I would like to continue to enjoy you in a non-instructor kind of way, if you’ll have me.”

  I stared at him. Was this his way of asking me to be his girlfriend? Because the answer was a complete yes.

  “Mars, guess what the most exciting thing is.” Vivek was back in the kitchen, Lana following him before I could wonder more. Zayed quickly dropped his hand, leaving me holding the glass.

  “What?”

  “The refrigerator already made thirteen ice cubes. It’s really fixed. Come check it out.”

  I joined him at the freezer, and sure enough, there were thirteen little ice cubes clinking around in the ice maker. The frosty air from the freezer cooled my cheeks and gave me a chance to think about what I was going to say to Zayed next. Dating had never been a problem for me, but this was something much more than that. If I would have him? I would definitely have him!

  “Wow, that’s cool, Vivek. Pardon the pun.” I tried not to sound sarcastic. I’d never seen anyone so excited by appliances before. It was a little odd, but not bad, I had to admit grudgingly.

  “Now it’s time to eat,” Lana said a
s she started to fix herself a plate. “I’m dying to try some of these waffles!”

  This was a phrase I never thought I’d hear her say again. This was bizarroland. Upside-down reality. I wasn’t going to question it but rather enjoyed this rare moment of closeness between me, Lana, and these strangers who had pulled us both back from the edge of madness that morning.

  “I made that.” Zayed gestured toward the dish of scalloped potatoes on the island.

  “I’ll have to have extra then.” I took a second spoonful just to see his tender smile flash in my direction once again.

  We all sat at the dining room table with full plates, glasses, and silverware clinking. Lana was the first to taste her food, spearing a piece of bacon. I noticed Vivek watching her as she took a bite. My words to him about her eating habits had apparently made an impression. After watching her devour a good portion of bacon and eggs, he seemed satisfied and dug into his blueberry waffles.

  “What is this? This is really good.” I had a nibble of a sandwich, a baguette cut in half stuffed with vegetable coleslaw of some sort and grilled meat.

  “That’s a Vietnamese sandwich, one of my favorite things in the world,” Vivek pointed out. “It’s more of a lunch street food, but we had time, so . . .”

  “It’s delicious.” Zayed echoed me bite for bite. “Vivek knows how to make some very interesting foods. He calls them ‘food on the move.’”

  “Hot dog stands, crêpe stands, taco trucks, you know the drill. Zayed has never seen a taco truck before. You should take him to that famous one in Greenlake, Mars.”

  Lana frowned. “Taco trucks?”

  I had to laugh at the look on her face. “Exactly how it sounds, Lana!”

  Zayed laughed too. “Mrs. Alexander, I was as surprised as you.”

  “Food on the move. I never would have taken you as a fast-food man, Vivek. Another surprise,” Lana agreed.

  “That’s my goal.” Vivek shrugged, sipping his glass of milk. “That’s what the software I created did, surprised people. I love to make people smile.”

  “What was your software?” I asked around a mouthful of pancake. I hadn’t eaten this much in months. I was way past the four-bite plateau I’d been stuck at. Each dish was more delicious than the last. I could feel myself bordering on fullness already but couldn’t help tasting everything.

  “It was an add-on to people’s computers. It dropped in little personalized messages at funny times while people were online.”

  “Like?” I swallowed.

  “Like you would check your email, and you would get a little pop-up thought bubble that said, ‘You have another message from Zayed, Mars. I think he really likes you!’”

  I nearly choked. Zayed blushed. Lana raised an eyebrow, not looking terribly thrilled.

  “Wow, and a company paid you lots of money for this?”

  Vivek nodded. “It made people smile. I love that.”

  I glanced around the table. He had certainly accomplished that in my house that morning, despite the earlier circumstances.

  “Do you follow Islam, Zayed?” Lana asked, observing Zayed’s plate.

  I tensed, also having noticed that he had taken a little of everything except for the bacon and sausages. I’d assumed he was Muslim from his choice of major. I hoped that wasn’t going to be a big deal since we didn’t follow a religion. I didn’t want any religious stigma to enter the discussion during such a nice meal.

  “My family are progressive Muslims. I was raised quite liberal, but don’t follow the faith as much as I should anymore,” Zayed answered easily. “I do miss the community aspect of it very much. And the peace and ritual of prayer.”

  “I miss going to church on Sundays the way my family used to when we were young.” My mother scooped up a bit of salsa with the remainder of her scrambled eggs. “A house of worship feels like a bond that brings people together and holds them together through hard times. I don’t feel like I’ve had that since I left the church.”

  I glanced at her with mild surprise. I hadn’t known that was something she missed. My father was the one who didn’t believe in religion or displaying religious symbols, but I’d never thought about how it affected her. I started to wonder what her life had been like before she married my father and what else she’d given up.

  I could see Vivek trying to be discreet as he squeezed her arm under the table, and I swallowed. I wanted to say something but didn’t know how to without seeming really immature in front of Zayed.

  “It’s not too late, Mrs. Alexander.” Zayed refilled Lana’s glass of juice from the pitcher he’d carried to the table. “I’m sure God would welcome you back if that’s what you wanted.”

  Lana glanced in my direction. “Maybe.”

  “How did you learn to cook so well, Zayed?” I changed the subject, not comfortable with how personal the conversation was getting. I had just tasted the infamous scalloped potatoes, and they had practically melted in my mouth, the best potatoes I’d ever had.

  “My mother was ill once, and my father insisted we give her a break. Luckily she’d been collecting recipes for over ten years and had an entire collection of them in the kitchen. For me, it’s a matter of following directions exactly rather than attempting any sort of creativity.”

  “You’re from Paris, you said?” Vivek asked. “Are your parents still there?”

  Zayed shifted. “In the Latin Quarter.”

  “Oh yeah, around where? I was in Les Gobelins near Le Grand Hotel for almost a month. I love that city.”

  “Around there, near the Sorbonne. I love the city as well.”

  “And you lived there your whole life?” Lana asked.

  “Yes,” Zayed nodded, focusing on cutting a piece of toast into small pieces.

  “Your English is really good for having lived in France for so long,” Vivek commented.

  Lana nodded in agreement. “And your vocabulary. It’s very charming and literary.”

  “Thank you.” Zayed blushed again, his golden skin flushing beautifully. “I read as if I were possessed when I was younger. My parents said I kept our neighborhood bookstores in business. I read every English book for children I could find before I was ten years old, then graduated to Shakespeare.”

  “The Secret Garden and Little Women too?” I asked, mostly teasing.

  “Absolutely. There are more books written for little girls than boys. I was teased mercilessly, of course, by my friends, but I didn’t mind so much. I loved Little Women. I didn’t have any sisters, so the story was especially fascinating to me.”

  “That’s one of my favorites. I wanted to be Jo March when I was younger. I even slept in our attic for a whole year writing a book on parchment like she did,” Lana laughed.

  Vivek and I exchanged a glance; this news was new to both of us . . . my mother wanting to be the world’s most famous fictional tomboy. Such a bizarre and revealing morning this was turning into.

  “My parents wished I was like you two,” Vivek sighed. “I was practically illiterate because I spent all my time playing outside rather than reading. I was put into a special class.”

  “And now look at how far you’ve come,” Lana squeezed his hand.

  Ugh.

  “Do your folks live in town?” I asked quickly.

  “No, I’m trying to convince them to visit, but they refuse. They’re in India, in Mumbai. They say I work way too much to spend time with them when they’re here.”

  “Is that true?” Zayed asked.

  “Absolutely. But now maybe they have a reason to come.” He smiled affectionately at Lana.

  I nearly gagged. There was no way they were already serious enough to be at the meet-the-parents phase. Lana echoed my sentiment by frowning in his direction with a sharp shake of her head. As if they had already had this conversation and the plan had been negated. Even she was aware enough to know how it looked for him to be seeing a married woman who had a teenage daughter.

  She was all smiles as soon as Vi
vek broke eye contact. He’d backed down this time, but I didn’t expect that would last too long. He didn’t seem like the type to give up easily.

  “This was a great way to spend the morning,” he said, gesturing toward the French windows in the dining room. The storm that had started earlier that morning hadn’t let up. Cascades of rain showers swirled and endlessly lashed the windows outside. “Did you guys see the weather report today? Cats and dogs and horses outside. There’s snow in the mountains already. Can you believe that?”

  “There are cats and dogs and horses outside?”

  I smiled while Vivek tried to explain the figure of speech to Zayed, while Lana observed the whole exchange with interest. All three were soon laughing at something else.

  I’d watched Lana actually take more than two bites of a meal. I’d watched Vivek graze her hand without making a show of it. I’d watched Zayed watching me during our strange yet completely normal “family” breakfast. The house was different today. Warm and full, just like I felt on the inside. I hadn’t felt this way in so long, and the sensation was unfamiliar, extraordinary, but so welcome.

  CHAPTER 9

  The Status

  My mind was active as I loaded the dishwasher. Usually I would wait for the housekeeper to handle chores, but I needed to do something to stop analyzing the morning and what it meant.

  I’d wanted to drive Zayed back to the U District to give us some time to talk, but he’d said good-bye at the front door and insisted on taking the bus back. I’d stood in the doorway of the house until he disappeared from view onto Lake Washington Boulevard. Usually this would have discouraged me, but he’d promised to make up for standing me up. I’d wanted to tell him that he already had and much more, but I’d refrained. I wanted to see him again. Soon.

  I rinsed off the four plates before putting them into the lower rack of the dishwasher. We had never used four plates for breakfast in our house, always three and recently only two. People used to ask if I liked being an only child, and my honest answer had always been “yes.” I’d loved having my parents’ undivided attention and never having to wear cutesy matching outfits or having to share my toys.