by Dona Sarkar
“As you would say, hell no!”
I laughed. “I like a man who’s self-aware.”
“Can I assume that means you like me, even a little?”
I love you.
I didn’t say it out loud, though I wanted to. I loved the way it sounded. Not only can I not be without you, I don’t want to be.
“I didn’t make that clear?” I hopped off the counter, depositing the kitten safely on the floor. I slid up behind Zayed, wrapped my arms around his waist, and rose to my toes to brush the back of his neck with my cheek. “What about you?”
His skin was like velvet. Smooth, golden velvet.
“I like you too much.” I could barely hear the words, just his breathing and the strong rushing of his heart.
“Why?”
“Because you are very clever with words. More clever than I ever will be.” He glanced at me while tasting the chicken one last time.
“That’s the only reason, huh?”
“Unfortunately.”
He carried the dish of chicken to the coffee table while I served the white rice he’d prepared in the microwave onto two plates. He served me a spoonful of chicken over the rice.
I dug in before it was polite, unable to resist the tangy smell of the curry. The dish was tart, yet spicy with a sweetish aftertaste. It was exquisite.
“This is unlike anything I’d ever had.”
“Good unlike?”
“Very good unlike.”
“I hate when people watch me eat,” I mumbled through a bite of chicken. “But you can.”
“I’m honored.”
We ate in silence for a few minutes. Again, it was a comfortable silence that I was used to now.
“I think it’s nice your mom let you help in the kitchen. When my father cooked, he never allowed anyone in the kitchen during the elaborate affair.”
Zayed glanced at me, biting the corner of his lip. I knew that look.
“What happened to him, Mars? Why does everyone avoid the subject?”
I set my fork down and wiped my lips. “I already told you.”
“Please. I want to know you.”
I hesitated. I wanted to tell him. Everyone else knew. How could he not?
“I won’t repeat it to anyone if that’s your concern. I’m also unpopular.”
My concern was much more than that. To him and only him, I was normal. Once he heard the story, I would be one to be pitied, someone fragile and delicate who could fall apart at any moment.
“You could have, and should have, left me on that roof along with everyone else. You stayed. And I want to know why you’re so brave.”
I remembered the therapy group session where I had first shared Zayed’s email about me being a hero and how that made me feel. Remembered how much everyone had appreciated it and how good I had felt afterward.
“My mom and I got a letter delivered.” I started before I changed my mind, reaching for Coconut and pulling her into my arms for comfort. She nuzzled my cheek as if encouraging me to continue.
Zayed sat perfectly still, not eating anymore, just staring at me, which made me even more nervous.
“It said, verbatim, that my dad’s truck at the head of his convoy had exploded. Blown up. He is listed as missing, presumed dead.” I rushed through that part. People were ridiculous, completely ready to dismiss his life and everything he’d done in mere seconds.
“Then?”
“The next day, I was in the girls’ locker room after gym—at school—and everyone started consoling me, acting as if he was dead, telling me they know a therapist I could see, a support group I could join. I lost it.”
“You lost it?”
My cheeks burned, remembering. “I ran into one of the shower stalls with a pair of eyebrow scissors and I hacked off my hair. To get them to stop. To get them to talk about something else. I cut my cheek by accident. There was some blood. That’s all.”
I’d been hauled out of the locker room on a stretcher and to the hospital in an ambulance after someone called 911. Lana sobbed through the whole event, not being one bit supportive. I’d slept for days after and, upon returning to school, found myself a pariah.
“But you believe him to be alive. You go to the airport to wait for him, and you get very angry when anyone says he’s gone.”
“We fought the night before he left.”
“About?”
I remembered every detail. I had brought up the idea of doing a semester abroad in Paris in the spring as a foreign exchange student.
“You’re not going, Mars. End of discussion.” Dad didn’t glance up from the bag he was expertly packing for his deployment.
“Why not?” My arms had been crossed. I was going to get my way this time. “Why are you being a pain about this?”
“A pain?” he’d finally looked up, his dark eyes flashing with anger. “Do you actually think you’re going to talk to me like that?”
I had seethed silently.
“I said no already. You are not responsible enough to be in a strange city by yourself. And don’t try and convince your mother to let you go. It doesn’t matter what she says. The answer is still no.”
“You’re leaving tomorrow. Do you really think you get to control what I do? I’ll go to Paris if I get into the program.” I slammed the door to the bedroom.
“Mars, I’m warning you,” he yelled after me.
“Warn all you want, I’ll be gone by the time you get back!” I’d yelled back before storming out of the house and had spent the evening at Jason’s complaining about how impossible Dad was and how he was done controlling me.
“He doesn’t get to go away forever when we didn’t get to finish the fight.”
“That was the last conversation you had with him?”
I nodded. He’d left early the following morning, and I had been too angry still to go downstairs and say good-bye.
“And now everyone is saying he’s dead. Even his regiment.”
“They didn’t ship anything back. How can he be dead if there is no body? Lana had a funeral, and she buried an empty casket.”
I’d refused to attend and had claimed hysterics. I’d told her I wouldn’t have been able to deal with the crowd of people sure to be there. I’d told her I would have another breakdown if she made me attend.
She’d left me alone that day.
And all the days after, never talking about it again.
Zayed was silent. He didn’t look one bit surprised. He should’ve looked more surprised.
“Did you know that already? About the funeral?”
He nodded without hesitation. “Vivek told me while we were preparing breakfast.”
I bit my lip, now feeling my cheeks heat up with anger. That morning had been one of the most horrible in recent times. I’d been trying to work through my anger at Jason and had appreciated all the support Vivek and Zayed had given me when in actuality they had been talking about me behind my back. Worse, Lana had told Vivek everything. The letter, my breakdown, everything.
She had let him in completely.
And all this time, Zayed had been pretending he didn’t know what had happened or why I was so angry at Lana.
I was betrayed by everyone again.
I grabbed my plate off the table and started to stand up.
“Wait, wait. Mars, are you angry with me?” Zayed reached for the remote and muted the volume on the television, washing the room in silence.
“No.” I didn’t look at him and instead stalked into the kitchen.
A minute later, I felt his hand on my shoulder.
“We were both concerned for you.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
“Please.” He gently removed the plate I was gripping to the point of shattering it and set it in the sink. He then pulled me into his arms. “I didn’t know the details of the letter that came to your house. All Vivek knows is that there was a funeral. Your mother does not speak to him about it.”
We stood there,
my arms uselessly by my side and Zayed holding onto me too tightly.
“I’m glad you cut off your hair. It’s beautiful this way.”
I smiled into his chest. “I know hacking it off like a crazy person was a clichéd move. I watch movies. I know what it symbolizes. It was an excuse to be crazy, and honestly, I was sick of my hair.”
Coconut had followed us to the kitchen and was now trying to stick her paw into the sink to investigate. I reached out and batted at her playfully, trying to keep her off the dishes.
Zayed was watching me when I raised my head to look at him. “You had to cut it off in public?”
“I didn’t want anyone else to talk to me about my father, so I acted insane. People mess with a tough girl, but no one messes with the crazy girl. I wanted Lana to know that I was not okay. But she ignored it.”
During the funeral, I had called Dad’s cell phone repeatedly, leaving one frantic message after another begging him to come home.
Ever since then, everyone had referred to him in the past tense. I wasn’t going to do that. He was out there. I knew it. I could feel it. If he really was gone, I wouldn’t feel his protective presence around me all the time.
Now I buried my face in Zayed’s chest and waited for him to tell me I was insane. That it wasn’t possible. That I needed to move on. He would be joining the ranks of everyone else in my life to believe so.
He continued to stand silently, just holding me.
“Say something.” I finally insisted, punching him gently in his side.
“You must protect yourself,” he said quietly. “I understand that. I’m sorry to hear you feel you’re alone in this.”
“I do feel like I’m the only one waiting for him.” That was clear from the fact that only I went to the airport. Only I called his cell phone.
“I’ll wait with you, Mars. I don’t know where he is or why he’s not here, but I’ll wait with you for as long as you want.”
Tears sprung to my eyes. The one person who’d never met my father was willing to believe in him. Why couldn’t anyone else?
Zayed and I washed dishes together, me drying and putting away while keeping Coconut from ending up in a pile of soap. He was very quiet, a pensive look on his face as he scrubbed the pan.
I wondered what he was thinking. That I was crazy. That this, whatever this was, was over. Or that what we were doing was beautiful and magical and he couldn’t live without me. I knew telling him was the right thing to do, but I feared I had jeopardized what we had.
I tossed a soap bubble at him to break the silence. We’d never had that long of a silence between us. He swiped it out of his eye like the cat and blew one back at me. I splashed some soapy water on his shirt and, laughing, ran into the living space quickly before he could drench me in return.
I watched him pull the black V-neck sweater over his head and toss it aside. He walked toward me with his perfect martini-glass-shaped silhouette. No hesitation. He was coming straight in my direction.
I felt my heart do the clichéd speeding up again. So, this did happen in real life. He pulled me roughly to my feet and into his chest again. This time, it wasn’t for comfort and safety. I breathed in that scent of firewood and oranges again. His skin was warm, hotter by the second.
“What are you doing to me?” he whispered.
“Nothing.”
“What are you to me?”
“A tour guide and a friend,” I said breathlessly.
“If only,” Zayed sighed. “You’re all I think about. The thoughts I had that night in your bedroom.” He didn’t say anything else, just ran his hands down my back and stopped on my hips. “I wanted to wait until after we were married for this, but I don’t know how we can . . .”
Marriage? He was ready to discuss that kind of commitment to me and yet couldn’t tell me what his giant secret was? That was ridiculous. I spun him around and threw him on the couch. The look of surprise on his face urged me on. I placed my knees on either side of his legs hovering, not touching him.
“Tell me what you’ve been hiding.”
“Mars, I can’t. You know that.”
I pinned his arms against the back of the couch. “Now.”
The dance was over. We’d gone as far as we could without things changing to become more serious. Things were going to change tonight.
I eyed his bed, perfectly made. Like my life had been before he’d arrived in it. Perfectly calm, waiting to be mussed. One way or another, everything was going to change.
As if he was reading my mind, he broke free of my bond and wrapped his arms around my waist, hands grazing the sliver of exposed skin. He slipped a hand under my sweater and traveled up my back as his lips found my jaw.
I closed my eyes, hoping to feel his lips on mine.
Nothing.
I opened them and he was inches away, his gaze roaming over my eyelashes and lips.
I love you, Zayed Anwar.
“You’re so very beautiful.”
“You look like a prince.” I retorted softly, stroking my thumb over his lower lip.
“That I’m not.” He continued to gaze at me while he kissed my fingertips, then hand, then arm, then shoulder. Then he reached behind and lifted my sweater. It went up, up, up, and over my head. The shiver went straight through my spine.
Tonight, he wanted more.
“You might be. What do I really know about you?” I lifted myself onto my knees, pushing him back against the arm of the couch. I hovered over him again, enjoying the amazed look on his face as he gazed at me.
“What do you wish to know?” Now his eyes closed as I adjusted myself on his lap. “Keep doing this and I’ll tell you more than I should.”
“Who are you?” I whispered, my lips close to his ear. “Really. Why are you here?”
“I’m yours. I’m only here for you,” he sighed. “I’m someone you’ve saved over and over again. Someone who is ready to spend the rest of his life serving you.”
He wanted me. I knew that. I could feel the heat coming off his body.
I also knew that if I kissed him now or did anything else, I wouldn’t be able to stop. I wouldn’t get the answers I wanted, and I wouldn’t care. I would have him finally, and nothing else would matter.
I’d never felt this kind of longing for another person. It was terrifying, empowering, and not at all something I had ever done or felt I should do.
And I no longer gave a damn.
I ran a finger down his throat, into the hollow. I gently scraped his chest and trailed down his stomach to the buckle of his belt. I finally kissed him, below the throat. I felt his hands on the tops of my thighs, pushing me down gently so I straddled his lap.
He tilted my head back and pressed his lips on the edge of my mouth. “I read that when you save someone they belong to you. I belong to you, Mars. I hope that’s not too much for me to say.”
I knew he was mine from the first night on the roof. The way I thought about him constantly, the way I wanted nothing other than to be with him twenty-four hours a day. The way his lips were about to meet mine for our first, long-anticipated kiss.
“I’m in love with you,” I whispered. I hadn’t wanted to be the one to say it, but the words came out anyway. It was as if a spell had possessed the two of us and I had no control of what my body or mind was doing.
He froze as my lips pressed against his.
Damn.
I’d made a mistake. It was too soon.
“I’m sorry.” He pulled away, staring at the television.
Embarrassed, I quickly moved to the other end of the couch, pulling my knees to my chest. I realized Zayed was still staring at the television, frowning.
Television, really? My love for him made him crave the news?
I felt a sudden chill at the caption on the news story he was so intently watching, TRASH BOMB DETONATED AT WAR RALLY AT THE UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON. SIX INJURED.
CHAPTER 15
The Suspicion
I sat in my therapy group the next day, staring at the wall. Erica might have whispered a comment about Chad or something, but I couldn’t be sure. All I could think about were the events of that night, repeating themselves over and over in my mind.
The whole night had felt like a dream. From the touching and whispering to that ill-fated kiss.
“Would you like to share another event that’s happened with you lately?” Stephanie pressed me again, giving me an almost-dirty look.
“No.” I passed the flag to Erica. These sessions felt hollow and superficial compared to how much we’d all shared a week ago in the gazebo. I noticed everyone was staring at the ground a lot more and saying a lot less, and Stephanie didn’t seem to notice or care.
Too many events lately. Was it only a month or so ago that I’d been sitting here contemplating the first night on the roof with Zayed? It had only been a short amount of time, but for me it had been a lifetime and a half ago. Everything was different. Everything that had been vital before no longer was, and things I’d never thought about were frighteningly real.
I couldn’t stop seeing Zayed. Despite all the red flags about the secrets he was keeping, despite my father never having had known him, I couldn’t stay away from him. I couldn’t stop thinking of his smoky-gray eyes probing mine. His trembling lips underneath my fingertips. The magical second when our lips had met.
But the way he’d been staring at the television, no shock, no horror, no surprise. Just matter-of-factly watching the news of a sudden tragedy in Seattle. He’d been distracted and distant as I’d packed my bag and kissed Coconut good-night. He’d squeezed my hand at my car and said good-night quickly. Something was happening, and Zayed knew a lot more than he was letting on.
What did he do when we weren’t together? A little nagging voice asked. Where did he disappear off to sometimes?
“I’m worried you’re not progressing at the same rate as everyone else, Mars.” Stephanie halted the discussion with a dismissive move of her hand. “It feels like you’re not moving toward acceptance or any other resolution. Let’s talk about this.”