Scattered Ashes

by Dona Sarkar

  “Then?”

  I read ahead the next few lines, feeling that incredible, deep longing again.

  “You dug, you burrowed, and you found me. The real question that remains is why I allowed you to stay.”

  I closed the book. He knew the whole damn book.

  “You owe me a secret.” Zayed gently took my book from my hands and set it aside.

  “Later,” I whispered, moving forward so our knees were touching.

  Zayed reached around the sides of my legs and pulled me closer, trapping me between his knees.

  “Now.”

  “I know how you feel about me.” I didn’t let my gaze waver from his face, though I could feel my cheeks getting hot. It was a bluff. I was starting to develop some ideas, but he hadn’t said anything for certain.

  “I don’t think you do.” He released my knees and leaned backward into the arm of the couch, eyes on me.

  “Yes, I do. We’re friends. Acquaintances, actually. You don’t trust me enough to be even a friend.” I bluffed, inviting Coconut to crawl back into my lap and make her way up my arm to my shoulder.

  He laughed softly, ironically. “You don’t know. Seeing you, Mars, is the best part of my week. I look forward to it like nothing else. That day I saw you on the street and . . .”

  I didn’t know how to tell him that seeing him was the best part of my life. I petted the kitten behind her ears after she had started to chew my scarf and purr softly, kneading me like bread dough. “You don’t even trust me enough to tell me the truth about who you are or why you’re here, so how can I assume you feel anything for me?”

  “Wait here.” He stood up with a sigh and walked over to his bookshelf, returning with a blue notebook.

  “After I saw you on the street that first day, I didn’t want to forget your face,” he said, turning the book around and around in his hands. “So I did this.”

  “What is it?” I gestured toward the book.

  “My journal.”

  Before I could react to the thought of Zayed having a journal that would be the key to all his secrets, the book fell open on my lap to a page with a rough pencil sketch of a face.

  My face.

  “I created this sitting in that coffee shop. I wasn’t able to help myself. I didn’t want to forget your face. How was I to know that you would be here with me one day?”

  I sat stunned, staring at the angles of my jaw, the swish of hair across my cheek. My eyes looked haunted and sad. I looked vulnerable. Beautiful even.

  “I couldn’t stop thinking of you. I felt as if my dreams brought you into reality.”

  I ran my finger over the sketch and flipped the page, hoping for more. Lots of scrawled words that I didn’t get a chance to read.

  “That,” he said, reaching out and removing the book from my lap, “is personal.”

  I was going to get my hands on that journal.

  As if he could read my thoughts, Zayed quickly changed the topic. “Will you help me with my flash cards?” He reached for the stack of index cards on the coffee table.

  I held up the first one. “1783.”

  “Um . . . next.”

  “That was the end of the Revolutionary War. Next is 1759; this one is international.”

  “Um, French and Indian War?”

  I laughed. “No! It’s the beginning of the French colonization of India. Completely different kind of ‘Indian.’ ”

  “Ugh.” Zayed groaned, sitting down. “I’m going to fail this midterm, I imagine.”

  “No, you’re not. What are you doing tomorrow? I can help you study. We’re going to get you an A, damn it.”

  “I teach every weekday until about nine. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I also teach the verbal SAT class in the mornings. I have school every other time between eight and five. And then I need to meet my adviser three times a week.”

  “Why do you need to meet him so often?” I was genuinely surprised he needed so much advising. I would be pretty annoyed if someone was telling me what to do every step of my major.

  “I must be a hopeless case.” Zayed smiled.

  “I doubt that—”

  Zayed’s cell phone rang, interrupting. I waited for him to get it, but it stopped ringing before he could. “Are you going to check who that is?”

  He shook his head. “It can’t be as important as what’s happening here.”

  I blushed.

  “Tell me about Lana. Why do you call your mother by her name? My mother would slap me if I did that.” Zayed leaned forward and took my hands in his.

  There, cradled under his arm, my head on his shoulder, I told him many things. About how Lana and I were always up to mischief against my father’s better judgment. How things changed so quickly after his deployment. About how she suddenly wanted to be a real mother to me after all these years. About why I was so hostile to Vivek. Yes, I felt Lana was trying to replace my father, but also trying to replace me as her number-one confidant. I hated that she’d already talked to Vivek about deeply personal things—like my father being gone. He hadn’t been there with us throughout the years. He wouldn’t understand.

  I told Zayed things I hadn’t even realized myself until I said them aloud.

  As the rain subsided, I realized I had to get home before it got too dark and the storm picked up again.

  Zayed seemed to see the sadness on my face as he walked me to my car.

  “I will see you tomorrow,” he promised.

  In a room with twelve other students, just one in a crowd. I was cradled in the warm cocoon between Zayed’s body and the Corvette as he shielded me from the wind and rain. I couldn’t imagine getting into the car and driving home and leaving him standing on the sidewalk. I tilted my head back and felt the drops splash across my face. Zayed kissed his thumb and pressed it to my cheek. “You’re lovelier now than I’ve ever seen you. What have you done to me?”

  I felt my heart beating wildly, and every part of my body pulsated with the energy that fueled through me. Why didn’t he just kiss me and get it over with?

  “Zayed, come home with me.”

  CHAPTER 12

  The Night

  “He stayed over? Seriously? You’re not messing with me?” Erica’s mouth hung open. “Has anyone ever stayed over with you before?”

  “Shhh.” I glanced around the hallways. I didn’t want this news getting out. I still didn’t want anyone to know or speculate any more about Zayed.

  “Nothing like that happened between us.”

  “Nothing never happens, Mars. What happened?”

  So, lots had happened, but nothing I was willing to share yet. My night with Zayed had felt like a dream or hallucination. I couldn’t distinguish the events of one moment from another, but I could recall how I felt every second of it.

  It had taken half an hour to convince Zayed to come home with me. Finally, I’d had to resort to the excuse of being afraid of the storm. We arrived home before Lana returned from her date with Vivek and retreated into my loft fairly quickly. I was not going to try and explain this to her.

  I’d never had a guy in my room. Dad had always strictly forbidden it. I knew it was wrong to break my word to him when he was gone, but I couldn’t not be with Zayed that night.

  I hadn’t known what was going to happen, or how the night was going to play out. All I knew was that I had to know more about him and was not willing to lose the opportunity.

  “Your room is beautiful,” Zayed had said from my bed, where he was flipping through my photo albums. They were childhood pictures of my parents and me during birthdays, vacations, and school plays. I’d set the plate of grilled PB&Js I’d made quickly down on the nightstand. I’d joined him on the bed, and he had immediately retreated to the window seat.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.” I had laughed. “I never thought the guy I was seeing would react this way to being on the same bed as me.”

  “Seeing each other? As in?”

  I’d suddenly become ver
y busy with choosing the biggest sandwich off the plate.

  “Mars?”

  “As in, seeing each other outside of class,” I’d said lamely. I hadn’t meant to let that slip. Seeing each other was such an overused term. What we had seemed so much more special than that. More meaningful. Were there words to describe being unable to imagine a day without him?

  I held out the sandwich as a distraction. He stretched his neck forward like his cat and took a bite. He chewed thoughtfully.

  “What is that?” he finally asked.

  “The magical peanut butter and raspberry jelly combination.” I took a bite of the same sandwich and savored the melting-in-my-mouth feeling. Dad’s recipe tasted even better when shared with someone.

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “Told you.”

  “It might be my new favorite food.”

  “That’s what you missed out on that morning when you stood me up,” I couldn’t help but add.

  “Will I ever hear the end of that?”

  “Nope.”

  “Didn’t I make up for it with scalloped potatoes?”

  He had, but he didn’t need to know that. “Not yet.”

  We both lay on our sides, staring at each other, his hand possessively on my hip. His eyes were grayish blue, I’d decided, the color of a dolphin’s skin. His mouth was amazing, with a ripe, rounded lower lip, like a wedge of tangerine, and a perfect Cupid’s bow on the upper.

  “I told you I would keep you the whole day,” I said shyly, gazing into his eyes again.

  “You can keep me for longer. As long as you’d like. And you haven’t done anything unmentionable to me either,” he reminded me.

  I blushed. The things I’d dared to say in email.

  I’d run a finger over his lips, wondering why he didn’t kiss me. I wanted him to. I knew everything would change the second he did, but I very much wanted him to. I considered making the first move, but it didn’t feel right to do so. He was as skittish as Coconut. I would wait for him to be ready and not rush anything.

  “What’s that?” Zayed asked, breaking the tension that finally got to be too much. He was gesturing toward the painting Erica had started and I had finished. The angry red brushstrokes. I had rested it against my dresser with a plan to hang it above my bed.

  “History,” I said, staring at it. That day, I had been so uncertain about my feelings for Jason and the budding ones for Zayed. How things had changed so quickly. Everything that had seemed so important just a few weeks ago, I couldn’t even remember what they were anymore. “Come back here.”

  He’d obliged. He rested his chin on my shoulder. I felt myself warming up under the weight of his body. After fifteen minutes of stillness, I thought he’d fallen asleep but then felt his lips caressing my neck. His hands and arms slipped underneath my hips, bringing goose bumps to my skin.

  “Have you been with another man like this?”

  “Yes.” I had answered truthfully, despite my instinct not to. Thinking of my relationship with Jason now seemed ridiculous.

  “Is it shameful that I hate that man?” Zayed had mumbled into my neck.

  “No.” I had to laugh.

  “I want to kill him.”

  “It’s ancient history.”

  “Have you done more than this?”

  “No,” I said truthfully. It had bothered Jason that we never had, but I hadn’t cared. “Have you been with someone else this way?”

  “No,” Zayed said.

  “And I won’t,” I thought I heard him say, but I couldn’t be sure.

  I closed my eyes as he kissed my neck, my jaw, and then the corner of my mouth. I waited, eyes closed still. Eventually I felt the lightest of grazes across my lips, or perhaps I imagined it. The deep desire in my core wasn’t imagined, though, and I wrapped my arms around Zayed and pulled him even closer.

  He sighed my name, and I could feel the effects I was having on him. He rested his head on my heart, his lips exhaling on my bare skin. We stayed that way for a long time. I didn’t dare to move, didn’t want to break the beautiful tension of that moment.

  We’d both dozed off at some point.

  “How long have you been keeping a journal?” I had asked dreamily around two in the morning, letting locks of Zayed’s hair curl around my pinky.

  He lifted himself on his elbow. “Almost my entire life. I always felt like I had so much to say, but no one to really listen. So I started to write.”

  “Do you plan to share them someday with someone?”

  “No. Who would be interested in each and every one of my inane thoughts? I have all of them from when I was five years old.”

  He sat up and paced the room, stopping at the wall-sized window. “The fog. It’s almost magical here.”

  The quilted fog wrapped its way around the trees and buildings on the waterfront. Silent and cool, it coated the window with a mystical haze. I could make out the glow of streetlights speckling the peaceful night like a paint-by-numbers coloring book. It felt like we were the only two people awake in the world.

  “I want you to share your journals with me,” I said, sidling up behind him and wrapping my arms around him.

  He wiped some condensation from the window before covering my hands with his. “If I do share them, it will be with no one else.”

  I was warmed by the statement but had to know, “When?”

  “I don’t know, Mars.” He turned to face me, searchingly staring. “Why?”

  I shrugged and started to edge backward on the bed. “I want to know what you think. How you think. Is that weird?”

  He crossed the room and was hovering over me within seconds. “You will have plenty of time to read them. I promise to be with you as long as you choose to have me.”

  “You don’t know that; you can’t promise that.” Even though I was starting to actually believe him.

  “Yes, I can. I promise it.” He laughed, not in a “ha-ha” funny way, but almost desperately as he slid down to bury his head in my chest. “You are frighteningly beautiful with your moods and tantrums. Your smile makes me forget everything and not care. Do you understand? I don’t ever want to forget that look in your eyes, like you’re not going to let me go—ever. I don’t want you to let me go.”

  I never believed anyone, but I believed he meant what he was saying.

  Before I knew it, the sun was coming out, and our night together was over. Absolutely nothing had happened; we’d only eaten PB&Js and talked, yet it had been the most intimate night of my life.

  I watched him walk down our driveway to the bus stop, my heart doing something that could only have been described as breaking. Even though I knew I’d see him in a few short hours, I stood in the doorway for who knew how long, wishing he would come back.

  I knew I had to go to school. I knew I had to concentrate, but my mind and soul were with Zayed, following him back to the U District to attend a full day of anthropology and religion classes.

  * * *

  “There was something about seeing my Burberry raincoat hung up next to his simple one on the coat rack. There was symbolism there,” I said almost absently to Erica as I got my English notebook out of my locker.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know what I’m saying.” I leaned against the locker and wondered how this person had completely infiltrated my thoughts. How could it have only taken the weekend for him to become such a permanent and necessary aspect of my life?

  “I can see that you’re completely over the moon right now.”

  “What do you mean?” I grinned. I knew exactly what she meant. That morning, everything seemed brighter. The school building suddenly seemed beautiful, the sky lit up by a thousand clouds, every car I’d passed on my way vibrant with color and light. It might have been the sleep deprivation, but I knew it was much more than that.

  For the first time, I had a connection with another human being, the thing I’d longed for. I felt like I could tell him the
thoughts from the deepest corners of my mind and he wouldn’t think me insane or ridiculous.

  “Mars, I’ve never seen you like this. You’re . . . glowing!”

  I laughed, attracting the attention of several people who exchanged looks.

  “You’ve lost so much weight it’s getting a little scary though, babe.”

  I still didn’t stop grinning. It was no wonder. It felt like my heart was beating faster constantly, and my appetite was completely shot due to the never-ending fluttering in my stomach.

  “Is he an amazing kisser? I bet he is.”

  “I wouldn’t know.” I laughed again, seeing the look on her face.

  “Okay, let me get this straight.” Erica tucked one of her pink spirals behind her ear. “You are completely, totally head over heels in love with this guy, Mars. And you’ve never even kissed him?”

  “Love?” I stopped mid-step. “What do you mean?

  “Oh, honey, you didn’t know?”

  “No. I don’t think—”

  “This is it. The feeling where you can’t believe you went this long without him and know you can’t go back to the world where he’s not with you?”

  Exactly my feeling.

  “The feeling where you want to share everything with him, no matter how trivial?”

  Exactly that.

  “The feeling where you can spend hours just staring into his eyes to decide what color they are?”

  I’d done that last night.

  “This is love, babe.”

  Oh, God.

  “Oh, you didn’t know. Yeah, you’re screwed.” Now it was Erica’s turn to laugh, seeing the look on my face.

  * * *

  Lana was sitting at the kitchen counter when I arrived home. Alone. No laptop in front of her or any other distraction. Lying in wait for me.

  “Hey,” I said hesitantly. Her normally pouty lips were set in a tight line.

  “I saw Zayed leave the house this morning.”

  Damn.

  “You sure?” I tried to sound casual, and I flung my coat off and threw it on the countertop.

  She crossed her arms, pulling them tightly around her. “I pulled into the driveway as he was leaving through the back gate.”