by Dona Sarkar
But now the house suddenly felt very empty with everyone gone. I wished I had someone to talk to about what I was feeling. I eyed my cell phone. The daily check-in phone call hadn’t happened in over a week. Before I could feel too guilty, I grabbed the phone and hit the first number on my speed dial.
“Hey, Dad,” I said to the voicemail as I finished the last of the dishes. “We had a really weird breakfast today. Zayed, remember him? He came over, which was a surprise. Jason and I had a huge fight. He and I are over for good this time. I know you really like him, but he said some pretty horrible things. Even Lana doesn’t want me to see him again. Sorry.”
I took a deep breath. “I need you to call me soon, okay? There’s something going on with Zayed, and I don’t know what it is. Every time I’m around him, I feel like I’m losing my mind. Something bad always happens, though. Every time. I need to talk to you about it. That’s the dishwasher you hear in the background. I’m doing housework. I know, weird, right? Well, it’s been weird lately.”
The voicemail beeped, signaling my time was up.
I hung up the phone. “I miss you and love you. Come home soon,” I whispered to the empty house.
* * *
I waited nervously by the door, listening to the doorbell ring over and over. Talking to Dad’s voicemail hadn’t been enough for me, and I had decided to do something I hadn’t planned on.
The doorbell rang again.
Open the door. Do it now. I willed myself. It’s what Dad would want.
The doorbell stopped ringing, and I immediately grabbed the handle.
“Hey, Bree.” I forced a smile at my calculus teacher.
“I’m glad you called.”
“Um, me too.” I just stood there like a moron, not knowing what to do next. I really had no plan or good reason for asking her to talk.
“May I come in?”
It was weird having Bree sitting in my living room. She and Dad had always met on the Army Reserves base, never in our house, so this was a first.
“Can I bring you some tea?” I offered after I’d stared at the floor and the ceiling for a few minutes.
“No, thank you, Mars.”
“Waffles?”
She laughed. “How was your morning?”
I relaxed a bit. “Good. We had some guests.”
“That’s new, right? You and your mom really haven’t had too many visitors lately.”
“Mom’s new boyfriend.”
Bree watched me closely. “That bad, huh.”
“He’s kind of stupid.”
“Really?” Bree got a flicker of a smile on her lips. It wasn’t like I didn’t know how dumb I sounded.
“Yeah, he’s way more into her and into us than he should be.”
“Could it be he’s just trying to be a friend?”
I shrugged.
“Who else?”
Who else. How to explain the other guest?
“A friend of mine from my SAT class.”
“I see. What’s his name?”
“Zayed.” I realized she’d tricked me into admitting my guest was a guy. “He’s just a friend.”
“You said that already.”
I blushed.
“So, how long have you known him?”
“Just a few weeks, but he’s a really nice guy. Very caring. He’s helping me with some of the college application stuff.”
It was a relief to actually talk about Zayed out loud with someone. I rocked back and forth.
“That’s very good.” Bree smiled. “I’m glad to hear you talk about that. Where do you plan to apply?”
“The U.”
“Where else?”
I shrugged.
“Mars Alexander the First’s alma mater, huh? You know your parents met there, right?”
I nodded. I knew the whole story. He and I used to regularly take walks through the campus during the first days of fall, him pointing out various buildings and favorite hangouts, including the ballroom where he met my mother at a pre-war rally. That had been one of my favorite ways to spend Sunday afternoons.
“Bree, where’s my dad?” I came out with it before I could change my mind.
She swung her foot in a circle. “Where do you think he is?”
“Off base somewhere.”
“Are you wondering why he hasn’t contacted you?”
I nodded. “Have you heard anything at all? Some confidential mission or secret military stuff or anything? I promise I won’t say anything to Lana.”
Bree glanced up at me. “I would have told you if I knew anything, Mars.”
“Do they make you say that?”
She laughed. “No. I really would have told you.”
“Oh.”
“Is that why you asked me here?”
I sighed and didn’t answer.
“I feel like we’re just making things up. Like we’re always just . . . waiting.”
The grandfather clocked ticked for almost a minute. I looked over at Bree, hoping she’d have something profound to say.
“You mean everything to your father. You know that, right? If there was anything he could do to make your life easier . . .”
Then why wasn’t he here?
* * *
I walked into the cafeteria for lunch on Monday after almost a two-month-long absence from the giant hot tub of gossip. I knew people were talking about me and whatever rumor Jason had started following our fight, but I was done hiding. I ignored pointed stares at I stood in line for my pot roast and fries.
“Mars, oh my God, you look amazing.” Kendall looked shocked when she turned around and saw me, right behind her in line. Candace flanked her closely; the two were dressed in almost identical velour hoodies and acid-washed jeans tucked into furry ankle boots. Clearly, they’d been reading that month’s fashion magazines and hadn’t realized that just because something was in fashion didn’t mean it needed to be worn.
“Hey, guys.”
“You look like a French model. Everyone thought you were crazy when you cut off that amazing hair, but I really think the bob is cute!” Candace piped up. “You look really good despite, you know, the breakup.”
I contemplated going back and hiding in the library again just to avoid this kind of discussion. True, Candace and Kendall had been more friendly recently, but I really wasn’t in the mood to talk to them. I’d been thinking of this for months, the moment when they realized they needed me and came crawling back, but now I felt nothing. I just wanted them to go away and leave me alone.
Where the hell was Erica? I squinted around the cafeteria, but she was nowhere to be found.
I peeked to the front of the line to see what the holdup was. Some freshman was enquiring about the calorie count of French fries. This could take a while.
“We heard Jason caught you with some other guy and broke up with you!”
“Uh.” News generally traveled fast at Lakeville High, but this was ridiculous. What was Jason telling people about Zayed? Had he sent a group text to our entire senior class? I felt a flare of anger. Zayed didn’t concern him at all; Jason had no right to talk about him in any way.
“We can console you through the breakup.” Candace attempted to link her elbow through mine. “We need to go to the mall. Do you want to skip third period and go?”
“Uh, I better not. My mom’s gotten really strict lately about skipping and stuff.” This was not true. Lana wouldn’t notice if I didn’t go to school for a month.
“We should get you a makeover at Neiman’s. That way Jason will totally die when he sees you and your new man at homecoming.” This was their subtle way of asking about when I would be unveiling “my new man.”
“Yeah, sure. Later, though.” I had no desire for Jason to die or anything else. And I was not asking Zayed to go to homecoming with me. It sounded juvenile and silly just thinking about it. I had a feeling he’d never been to a school dance, and I wasn’t going to be the one to induct him into that aspect of American
culture. “What’s going on with you guys? Did you find dresses for the dance yet?”
I stood through ten minutes of pleasantries about what they each had been doing while the line moved up one student at a time, everyone seemingly asking about the calorie count of French fries.
Kendall was getting tired of sneaking in an outfit to school every day and changing in the girls’ locker room. Her parents were strict first-generation Chinese immigrants and insisted that Kendall didn’t show her knees or elbows. Kendall’s fashionista status couldn’t be challenged, and she had two wardrobes to deal with—one in her closet, and one in a cardboard box marked “Christmas decorations.” She couldn’t wait to graduate and go to college so she could wear whatever she wanted.
Candace struggled with the eternal question only Kirkland teenagers dealt with: to tan or not to tan. She insisted that having a tan made her look thinner yet was terrified of getting wrinkles. She’d finally succumbed to getting a spray tan once a week, but couldn’t ever wear white due to the clothing stains from her skin.
“But that’s okay, right? It’s after Labor Day, so I really shouldn’t be wearing white anyway.”
I made a sympathetic noise at Candace. I couldn’t believe I used to be a part of these discussions and actually enjoyed them. That day I could think of nothing but what Zayed had asked me about “having him” and what I would say to him when I saw him next.
“I’m sorry for not talking to you for a while. Are you really mad at us?” Candace took the lull in the conversation to drop that in.
Kendall glanced sideways at me to see my reaction.
I exhaled a breath, surprised they’d brought it up. “Why did you do it?” I knew the answer. I just had to hear it again.
They looked at each other, neither wanting to admit the truth.
“You can tell me, you guys, I’m not mad. Promise.” I smiled to show I really wasn’t.
“We were afraid people would talk about us the way they were talking about you. You really went crazy that day in the locker room, Mars. People thought you were going to kill someone. I mean, literally.” Kendall knew how shallow she sounded. I could tell by the look on her face. “You understand, right?”
I’d been waiting for that, an apology, some kind of explanation. I thought it would make me feel better, but it didn’t. It meant nothing to hear it. I realized I didn’t care anymore. I hadn’t cared in a long time what anyone thought of me, or if I would ever be considered “normal” again.
“Besides, everything’s okay now, right?” Candace asked hopefully. “I mean you’re dating some hot older guy and . . .”
I laughed. “I am not dating anyone.”
“But Jason said—” she started to protest.
“Don’t believe everything you hear, Candy.”
“You have to sit with us and tell us the whole thing.” Kendall waited for me as I paid for my lunch. “Come to our table.”
I glanced over at the table and our old gang—lots of girls dressed exactly like Kendall and Candace and their boyfriends, discussing the same things we had for the past four years.
“Thanks, guys,” I smiled politely and picked up my tray. “But I’m really behind in my homework and have to get something done before English.”
I didn’t give them a chance to answer as I strutted to the only open table in the middle of the cafeteria, the one under the giant starburst skylight. No one ever sat there because of its unobstructed view from anywhere in the cafeteria. This table was not for the shy, and I was done feeling like I needed to hide.
Zayed had sent me a short but effective email that morning that I had actually printed out and carried around in my wallet. I had pulled it out several times during the day until I memorized the words. I pulled it out again as I took a bite of pot roast.
Breakfast with you was the first time that felt like home and family to me here in Seattle. It was especially hard for me to leave when I turned back and saw you standing in your doorway, staring at me with that look on your face. You have no idea how that look affects me, and I pray you don’t use it to your advantage too often. I find you devastating and beautiful at once. I count the hours until I will see you again.
I felt his presence beside me every time I read it. He had a way with his words, and I couldn’t imagine anyone else saying those things and not sounding ridiculous. Just reading his words again made me feel powerful and in control. It was a feeling that was completely new to me.
I opened my notebook to a blank page and thought about what I would write back.
Dearest Zayed,
I don’t know how you manage, but you are able to enrage me and then astound me in mere seconds. No one has ever stood up for me the way you did with Jason. The most amazing thing is that I truly do believe you mean it when you say that I can do anything, that I am capable of greatness.
You’re the only one who’s ever believed that, and because of you I am starting to believe it myself.
Thank you for what you did, but you are still not forgiven for standing me up on Friday. I will think of an appropriate punishment by the time you receive this.
Yours,
Mars Alexander II
“So the rumors are true.” Erica materialized at my lonesome table just as I finished signing my name on the letter with a flourish. “You are here. I heard about it in the art studio and had to come and see for myself.”
“Hey.” I smiled at her as I closed my notebook. “Yes, I am here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
“You seem happy,” Erica sat down opposite me and picked up a French fry off my plate. “Really happy. What’s going on?”
I contemplated answering, but I was enjoying keeping Zayed to myself.
“So it is true. There is someone else. Jason is telling everyone you cheated on him.”
I raised an eyebrow, an artful arch I used to practice in front of the mirror when I was younger, channeling Vivien Leigh in Gone with the Wind. “Cheating? Really? To cheat, we actually should have been seeing each other, I think.”
“I thought you were.” Erica gave me a look. I knew I hadn’t told her the full truth about my interest in going out with Jason again. I had led her to believe that everything was okay and I was extremely happy that he and I were back together.
“We went on exactly one date. I don’t think Jason should get so attached.”
Erica folded her arms. “Okay, I want to know what’s going on with you. You know I won’t tell anyone.”
I wasn’t worried about Erica spreading news. The truth was that I barely understood what was going on between Zayed and me and had no idea how to put it into words for someone else to understand.
“Let me figure it out first,” I finally said. “I’ll tell you, I promise.”
“Is it the guy from the roof?”
I couldn’t hide my smile.
“Wow. It’s really bad when you don’t even try to cover it up. Who is he? When do I get to meet him?”
“Um . . .”
“Mars? What’s going on?”
Yeah, what was going on? My face was tingling, my stomach twisting; all the other voices were dimming into the background. All I wanted to do was close out the world and just think of him, his scent, and his presence.
“Nothing’s happened,” I managed to say. Yet.
“Oh really. Nothing? That’s not what Jason’s saying.”
I was getting annoyed with Erica for listening to Jason. It wasn’t like they traveled in the same circles or were great friends. I wondered why she was listening to him rather than me, someone she had known forever.
“Absolutely nothing. We’re just friends.” For now.
“But you do like him.”
I contemplated trying to explain and finally showed her Zayed’s note as a response. She read it in record time, eyes widening. “Oh. My. God.”
“We’re just friends.” I started to laugh at the look on her face.
“Oh. My. God.”
“Seriou
sly, there’s nothing going on.”
I no longer believed this at all. There was definitely something going on. Zayed knew it, and I knew it, too. And I couldn’t wait to find out more.
CHAPTER 10
The Absence
Zayed wasn’t in class that night. I was convinced he would show up until the very last minute. I’d even arrived early with a marshmallow mocha in hand and the letter I’d written him in my purse. I sat by the door and peeked into the stairwell every few minutes, but I didn’t hear his buoyant footsteps once. We ended up having a British substitute who had probably graduated from college before the SAT had been invented. It took him five minutes to read the instructions for the writing exercise we were to do that day.
“So, ahem. The goal of the exercise is . . . Let’s see here. What does this say? Ah yes, the goal is to look at the phrases—one at a time—I presume, then decide what emotion you feel. Yes, that’s right.”
He looked expectantly at us.
“Hmm, let’s read that again, shall we?”
Annoyed with Zayed, I stopped listening. Where was he? He’d just sent me an email that morning saying he was looking forward to seeing me. Where could he have disappeared to in a few short hours?
I flipped to the section in my booklet and decided to interpret the exercise as I chose.
“On the mountaintop” was the first phase. What emotion did I feel?
I was a bit scared of heights, so probably I felt sick. I doubted this was what the exercise was supposed to be.
“In a crowd,” was the second phrase.
“Alone,” I wrote down.
“In front of the Christmas tree,” was the third phrase.
“Sad,” I wrote down. “Nostalgic.”
“In the driver’s seat,” was the fourth one.
“Free,” I wrote.
I sighed and scribbled half-hearted answers to the rest of the prompts. I didn’t understand the point of this exercise, and without Zayed to help relate it to what we were trying to improve on in our essays, the class quickly lost interest, and everyone left early.
I felt sorry for the substitute, but I was starting to actually get concerned about Zayed. He had disappeared—again—and was not answering his cell phone.