by Dona Sarkar
I stared at the empty chair to my left as Lana stood up to carve the turkey. I’d never seen her at the head of the table before. It was startling to see her taking charge of something that traditionally my father would always have done, but I was starting to realize that she had known all along that he wasn’t coming back. She had made peace with it and had somehow achieved that magical closure everyone talked about.
I hated her for being able to move on, hated her for not missing the closeness we had shared before, hated her for being happy with someone else, but mostly hated her for not feeling any of the pain I was suffering now.
I pushed a piece of turkey under the mound of mashed potatoes on my plate and covered the whole thing in real cranberry sauce. Everything looked delicious, but I couldn’t muster anything close to an appetite. I gave up and set my fork down, unable to recall how happy I’d been the last time we’d all been at this table together. Zayed had been by my side and . . . I shut my eyes. He didn’t deserve to be in the thoughts on this day.
“Mars, your mother and I have something to tell you,” Vivek announced after raising a toast.
Just as I’d predicted. I glared at both of them. I’d known this was going to happen, despite everyone’s assurances it was not. He’d proposed. She’d, of course, said yes. All the talk of her not wanting to get married again was unlike her, and I’d known it all along. I glanced at her ring finger, where her wedding ring still sparkled brilliantly under the chandelier’s light. Replacing one with another.
“I asked Lana to marry me.”
I didn’t even blink. I knew he would. He wouldn’t have been able to resist.
“She said no.”
“What?” I glanced at Lana to see if he was being serious. “What do you mean?” I practically barked.
“She said your family isn’t ready for another upheaval right now. We’ve been rushing into this a bit, and we both realize we need to give you and Lana some time to adjust to life before I come in and everything changes again,” he continued calmly.
Neither looked upset, neither looked angry. Lana sipped her wine and smiled in Vivek’s direction.
“Really?” I asked finally. “But you guys are still together? When will you get married then?” I was completely confused. She’d rejected him. Why was he still sticking around?
“Maybe never,” Lana said nonchalantly. “I realize I need to make sure you and I are okay before changing our family in any way.”
“We’re both here for you, Mars,” Vivek added. “No matter what happens. Both of us.”
We continued on with dinner after that as if nothing at all had happened. Lana and Vivek made easy conversation, trying unsuccessfully to include me. I excused myself before dessert, went back up to my room, and buried myself under the covers.
The sad thing was that my first instinct was to call Zayed to share the news. Knowing I wouldn’t be speaking to him again seemed to be a lot easier than actually accepting the knowledge.
* * *
I heard Zayed’s voice guiding me as I took a seat on SAT day in the deserted high school classroom. I knew this was my last chance for success at this, and though I no longer had to go to the University of Washington, I’d worked too hard to throw away the opportunity to score high.
I heard his voice instructing me to spend a few minutes thinking about the topic: Progress is not possible without sacrifice.
I felt him coaching me with every line I wrote.
Be honest, Mars. Write about something real. Write with emotion, but not emotionally, he would say.
I twirled my pencil in the air.
As much as I wish progress was possible without sacrifice, I know it is not so. My father has lived this concept through his actions by serving in the U.S. Army Reserves for the past twenty years.
I felt Zayed’s presence nudge me when I hesitated to write the next lines.
Now it’s my turn to do the same and make a sacrifice to come to terms with his death. I need to sacrifice that protective, welcoming shell of denial I’ve lived in for so long and move forward with my life. I need to make progress in accepting that my father is gone but that the impact he’s made on both my life and the world lives and will always live. I was so afraid of facing this reality for so long, but now I realize that he’s gone and . . .
I heard Zayed’s voice in my head again. “It’s time for me to allow myself to grieve.”
I set the pencil down and stared at the words. That was about as honest as emotions could get. It was the best thing I’d ever written, I’d known that from the first word. I closed the booklet before I could change my mind about sharing those deeply private words with a group of unknown SAT graders.
Lana was waiting when I left the high school. She reached across and opened the door of her black Escalade. I slid into the passenger side wordlessly.
She had been unconditionally supportive through the past few weeks, even after I’d told her everything. Zayed, his past, the journals. She hadn’t said “I told you so” even once and had seemed to understand my pain at loving someone who was not capable of ever feeling the same way. She’d called Zayed a “lost boy” and told me I would recover someday but needed to take the time to do so.
“Let’s go home.” As she started the car, I brought up the topic of a fund-raiser. Something to help the children and families of those killed or hurt in war.
“People like Erica and . . .”
“And?”
“Us. Dad is gone. This is what he would want us to do since he can’t.”
Lana squeezed my hand as she pulled away from the curb.
“Let’s do it.”
* * *
I lay in bed that night, unable to sleep. I picked up the book that hadn’t budged from the nightstand and flipped through the pages. “Mine” was the name of the poem I chose to read. It was as if Theodore Watkins had known this moment would come:
I wake up nightly, wrapped in bedclothes. Not in you.
If you think of me, I’ll feel it, a sunburst, a moment of solace.
My mind, silent and demure, listens for the sound of your
heart’s drumming; the utopian dream of your body that
has haunted me for so long.
You are both novel and familiar, like a childhood friend who has
grown into an interesting adult.
The way you move, deliberately. Always deliberately hypnotizes me.
Your mind, your thoughts, your obsessions have become mine.
The desire to possess you as an equal.
Knowing you is powerful, but being able to touch the vulnerable is
my ultimate aphrodisiac.
You are mine.
. . .
CHAPTER 19
The Scene
I’d had no desire to go to the homecoming dance that Lana had convinced the school board to magically convert into a war relief fund-raiser, but knew I had to, given that it was kind of my idea. All proceeds from the tickets, plus donations, would go to the community to bring opportunities to families affected by the war. And the best part was that it was being held in the infamous all-ages club upstairs in the Kirkland Teen Center. It was the grand opening, and City Hall had high hopes it would be a place teens could get together.
Lana surprised me with a gray, beaded strapless number from Italy in an attempt to cheer me up. She’d ordered it online with help from Erica. A few months ago, I would have been thrilled to wear the dress, which highlighted my tan shoulders and arms along with a pair of brand-new silver cutout sandals. I spent a few minutes flat-ironing my hair and applying dark, smoky eye makeup. I left my lips pale and marveled at how much I had started to look like Lana.
Lana insisted on taking a picture of me before I left, and I stood alone, next to the grand fireplace, expressionless. There was worry in her eyes as she asked if I wanted her to come with me. I’d laughed then, thinking that taking my mother as a date might actually be a better option than going alone.
&nbs
p; Erica had also called earlier and asked if I wanted to go with her and her fake date, some random freshman she was tutoring. I still couldn’t get over the fact that she’d broken up with Chad over homecoming and told her I’d meet her there.
I entered the Teen Center’s new club alone. No limo, no corsage, no posse. I had never arrived at a dance this way, but never before had I cared so little about this so-called rite of passage, which suddenly seemed so insignificant.
I wove through the crowd of my classmates, looking for a place to sit. I couldn’t believe how anxious and overwhelmed I’d been at the thought of not being accepted anymore just a few short weeks ago. It didn’t matter what these people thought of me; it had never mattered. I’d thought that being envied had made me happy, but it really had only made me feel secure and like I belonged somewhere, never happy.
I was starting to truly understand Maslow’s hierarchy of needs and how I’d considered myself so far above the insurgents in Iraq, but all I had wanted was to belong, just like them. I’d never reached that level that would set me free.
I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“You look amazing!” Candace Littlefoot shrieked.
“Oh,” was all I could muster. She’d startled me. “Thanks, Candy, you too.”
“Dolce. The new collection.”
I nodded politely, though I didn’t even know what that collection looked like or why we actually had conversations about these things. We were in high school. I couldn’t believe we were so fascinated by what designers we were wearing rather than what we planned to do with the rest of our lives.
“I love what they’ve done with this place, don’t you? I can’t believe it’s so gorgeous. Totally thought it would be lame. I heard this has become a thing to benefit the families who’ve, you know . . .” her voice trailed off.
“Lost someone in the war? Yeah, it is. It looks amazing in here.” I had to admit. Lana had made a sizable donation to transform the upstairs of the Teen Center into a wonderland of fall colors. Swaths of cloth in every color on the trees outside scalloped over the ceiling of the ballroom, covering every inch and creating a dusky, mysterious atmosphere. Completing the cozy alcove were dried crimson and orange leaves clustered on each tabletop, enhanced by the glow of a thousand tea lights.
The atmosphere was romantic and magical. Zayed would have loved it. I sighed. I’d promised myself. Not tonight. I wouldn’t let him ruin this night.
“Come sit with us. Did you come with someone?” Candace glanced around to see if someone had stood up to claim me yet.
“I think I’m done with boys for a while.” I smoothed the silvery glove on my left hand to check the time on my watch. I would give myself till midnight, but then it was time for Cinderella to dash back to her castle for the night.
“Us too. We’re done with boys. High school boys are so . . . juvenile. I think we’re all ready for the college guys, right?” Candace nudged me as she led me back to the table, where she and Kendall were sitting and, of course, gossiping.
College boys were fairly juvenile too, with all the lying and deceiving, but I resisted throwing that in. There was no need to add any fuel to the gossip fest already erupting at the table.
“I cannot believe she’s dancing with some freshman guy. What’s she thinking?” The conversation was already in full flow when I took a seat at the table and we’d exchanged formal pleasantries. They were watching Erica and her tutee. I thought it was smart of her to bring someone she knew nothing romantic would happen with, though I still thought breaking up with her kind, honest boyfriend was a dumb move.
Erica did look beautiful, though, in a black-and-white ball gown, her pink highlights flying gracefully through the air. She was living out her fantasy of being a princess for the night, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the morning after was not always happily-ever-after.
“Oh, there’s Jason!” Kendall nodded pointedly at me. He had escorted in a tall model of a girl I didn’t recognize. I didn’t think she even went to our school.
“That girl looks anorexic,” Candace sniffed as if she was offended by the girl’s tiny figure. “What’s he thinking? I bet he pays her by the hour.”
Kendall snickered.
“He’s thinking he needs to show off to everyone that he can come with any girl he wants. That he was not dumped by me,” I said, as Jason whirled the girl by our table, staring pointedly at me. I knew I was being petty, but still, that’s what the night was for.
Both Candace and Kendall stared at me silently, exactly the reaction I was hoping for.
“You broke up with him?” Kendall asked at last.
“Of course. He’s not a good guy. And I don’t want to be with someone like that. That girl’s probably with him because she feels sorry for him.”
“Wow, that’s really brave of you, Mars,” Candace said. “He seems like a great guy. I don’t know if I would have had the guts to do that.”
“I’m a brave girl.” I smiled a wistful one. “And there are far better guys out there for me.”
A mild commotion at the other end of the gym interrupted our conversation as if planned. An unrecognizable man had entered, handsome in a slim white tux, graceful, debonair almost. He looked like the guy-next-door-cleaned-up on all the teen-friendly television shows. I watched him cross the room. It couldn’t be, but it was.
Wow.
He ignored everyone else and walked straight up to my table. “Hello, Mars. Would you care to dance?”
Kendall and Candace stared at Chad Winters. I knew for a fact they had no idea who he was and they regretted it.
“Um, sure.” I stood and took his outstretched hand. Chad and me, dancing at homecoming. Stranger things really had not happened.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered as he pulled me close and whizzed me across the floor. “And where did you learn to dance?”
“I’ve been taking lessons. I’m here to get my girl back.”
“Despite her insisting on coming to homecoming without you?” I stopped moving, getting my feet stepped on. “Ow.”
“I love her. You can’t love someone without letting them do things they want to do. You can’t just love someone temporarily. They become a part of your family, a part of your life, a part of you. She hurt me by coming here without me, but I love her, and I’m going to fight for us.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“What?” he asked, staring back.
“That’s incredibly stupid. She broke up with you over a homecoming dance.”
He laughed. And laughed some more. He was seriously weird.
“Love is stupid. People are going to disappoint you, even people you think very highly of. And you’re going to disappoint people. I was just being stubborn, and Erica decided she’d had enough. You have to deal with things if someone is worth it. What’s more important at the end of the day, being right or being with the one you love?”
“I . . . I—” For once I was speechless. I didn’t know.
“I’d rather be miserable with Erica than be without her. Even if I have to change some parts of myself.” He swayed me around, giving me a chance to think about what he was saying.
“Hypothetically speaking, why be miserable at all? Why not just move on? You’re in high school. There will be plenty of girls. Why do you need to change to be with her?”
“Without her, I can’t be anyone or anything,” Chad said, watching Erica and her friend sweep by us, a whirlwind of white gauze and black silk. “Go after him if you love him, Mars.”
“I don’t love anyone,” I retorted.
“Yeah, okay. Now, please excuse me.” He left me standing where he found me, back at the table.
I stood in the corner of the Teen Center and watched Erica spot Chad and do a double take, watched him wave shyly in her direction, watched her fly into his arms. Watched them kissing passionately.
Watched the freshman kid walk off the floor, looking terribly disappointed.
> Wow.
Toward the end of the night, Jason appeared in front of me. His date was nowhere to be seen. He took a second to wave hello to the girls behind me. I heard them snicker again.
“Hey, Mars. I know we left things—”
“I know.” I cut him off before he could launch into a recap.
“Do you think we could—”
“We could?” I was enjoying this.
“Try again? I’m sorry for what I said.” He gave me his best smile. That one. The one that had always melted me and gotten him his way.
“You know what, Jason?” I fluttered my eyelashes at him, putting a hand on my hip.
“Yeah?” He looked so hopeful, so sweet, so handsome.
“You’re the one who’s crazy if you think I’ll ever speak to you again.”
With that I walked away from him, with the laughter from the girls at our table as my soundtrack.
CHAPTER 20
The Trial
Lana and I waited outside the courtroom in downtown Seattle. Zayed’s testimony was to be given in a closed courtroom, and although Bree had made it clear that I wouldn’t be able to sit in, I had to be there. We sat on the hard wooden bench generally reserved for the press and stared at the door as if that would make the two hours pass more quickly.
“Will you speak to Zayed today?” Lana asked me after ten minutes of silence. We’d already talked about the weather and the traffic and about what a pretty dress Bree had worn to court. Things had been less awkward between Lana and me recently due to her best attempts. She was at home a lot more and spent all her time looking concerned for my well-being and working on our fund-raising project.
I shrugged. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”
Lana put an arm around me and held me close.
“You’ll talk to him, I think.”
“You don’t know that,” I muttered.
“Yes, I do.”