“Want to tell me what just happened out there? Because I know Ben was lying. Judging from how your friend was staring at you, I’m assuming there’s definitely some unpleasant history there.”
I stood there dumbfounded.
“I just want to make sure you’re okay. You’re not getting in trouble,” she said.
Next thing I knew I was vomiting up Maziar’s story in a hurried urgency, pausing only to take a breath in between sentences. Seti listened, never interrupting me. Once I was done, I looked at her through red-rimmed eyes, waiting for her response. She stayed quiet for a minute as she digested the slew of information I’d just thrown at her.
“Wow, that really sucks,” she finally said.
We both burst out laughing. She had the uncanny ability to lighten even the most morbid of moods.
“No, but seriously, I’m sorry this has all happened to you. It really is sad, but you’re going to have to keep it together if she comes back. Do you think you can do that?” I nodded. “Okay, good. Now go and wash your face and come back out to work.”
She smiled at me, wrapping me up in a warm hug. I imagine this would be how it felt if I’d grown up with a sister. I was back answering phones five minutes later.
Ben kept looking over at me, trying to make sure I was all right. He was facing a line of patients out of the door. I could see that it was killing him that he couldn’t come over and talk to me. I tried to give him reassuring glances every time we made eye contact, but I knew he was worried.
The afternoon rush was a hidden blessing. It kept me too busy to obsess over my run-in with Bita. Before I knew it, it was six o’clock and we were done for the day. We closed up our stations and headed out the door. The minute we made it to the car, Ben grabbed me and pulled me into his arms, holding me tight. He didn’t say anything, but I could hear his words anyway.
I couldn’t speak. I didn’t want to break down in the arms of one guy who cared for me about another guy I couldn’t stop loving. It felt so unfair that Ben would have to witness what happened today, to have my unresolved feelings for Maziar thrown in his face. I just put my arms around him and squeezed back.
It took strength to allow himself to have feelings for someone broken like me. He gave me comfort, despite my affection for someone else. I appreciated who he was even more that day. This would not be the first, nor last time, I would witness Ben’s unfailing character.
A few weeks later, Bita returned with her entourage. It was her attempt at a power play to intimidate me. I had spent too many nights hating her to care how large a following she brought in. This time, Seti and Ben were on point. Before I even knew it, Seti walked over to my position at the window and pulled me into refills with her, placing Ben in my spot. He flashed a playful, malicious smile at me on my way out.
When I realized Bita was standing in line, I just laughed. Her face contorted into a pile of angered wrinkles, the portions that were not paralyzed by her regular Botox injections. She quickly attempted to regain her composure, but I’d already seen her irritation. This angered her further, which only made it that much more enjoyable for me. I turned and willingly walked away, not looking back. I had no desire to deal with the serpent.
Chapter Sixteen
With August came my birthday. I hadn’t wanted to do anything to celebrate, but it seemed as though everyone had other plans. Ben and Leyla had worked together to coordinate a night at a karaoke bar. Neda was taking me out to brunch earlier that day.
Neda and I had kept in touch, even after my relationship with Maziar had ended. We’d tried at first to pretend nothing had changed, but the remnants of the breakup had loomed over our heads with its discomfort. Slowly our coffee dates dwindled into biweekly courtesy phone calls.
She’d called me a few days before my birthday, convincing me to let her take me out. I reluctantly agreed. There was a part of me that was nervous to be in the same space as her again. In my mind, Neda was synonymous with Maziar. She was the only part of him I hadn’t lost, and something about being so close to her, now that my life had started making sense again, gave me anxiety. It felt as if seeing her would somehow bring everything I’d rebuilt crashing down.
Saturday morning came sooner than I’d hoped. I’d been up since 6:30 tossing and turning, unable to get back to sleep. The butterflies in my stomach were making me sick and I was desperate to cancel on her but I couldn’t come up with a viable excuse.
There was a part of me, though, that hoped she had mentioned it to Maziar, and he was lying in bed sleepless, worrying over me too. But I knew deep down that Neda wouldn’t have told him. I don’t think he would have been comfortable with us remaining in contact, so I doubted he even knew we were still friends.
I’d settled on a pair of light blue jeans and a loose beige V-neck shirt. Maziar’s necklace still sat nestled in the center of my chest, as it always did. I reluctantly took it off for fear she would discover how I was pathetically hanging on to some nonexistent hope. Mom watched intently, perched on the edge of my bed, as I undid the clasp.
“Don’t mention Maziar at all when you’re with her,” she advised.
“I know. You’ve already said that a hundred times, Mom!” I said, frustrated. I was already nervous about this date. She was just making it worse.
“I know, azizam, just making sure,” she said and smiled. “You just don’t want him to know how hard getting over him was.”
I felt my cheeks flush with irritation. She’d been sitting on my bed for the past hour lecturing me on how I should keep my feelings concealed. She felt it would be the best form of revenge.
“I’m over him, Maman! I have no reason to talk about him.”
She eyed me thoughtfully, then just looked away, making it clear I wasn’t fooling anyone.
Persian women were a special breed, possessing certain ironclad strength. They never showed weakness. Too much emotion was equivalent to weakness. There were no conversations, no hashing things out, and no working through problems. Absolutely no one considered therapy, unless they were clinically insane. An Iranian woman just put on a calm face and slapped you with the silent treatment. Unfortunately, I was sure I would fail my mom and the whole of Persian women; I wouldn’t be able to successfully convince anyone that I didn’t care.
I came out of my room when Neda arrived. She turned toward me, all smiles and bubbles as usual. She looked beautiful, with the familiar bohemian air dancing about her. Neda had one of those captivating personalities that made you want to be around her. She exuded strength and self-assurance, but at the same time, she was humble and kind. She was the person you found yourself confiding your life story to, and would have no clue how exactly you got to spilling all your secrets.
As we waited to be seated, I felt awkward and fidgety. I bounced back and forth on the tips of my toes as if my feet were resting on hot coals. I wanted to crawl out of my skin.
Neda watched me dancing about. She reached out and placed her hand on my shoulder, startling me.
“You okay, Sara?” she asked concerned.
“I’m fine,” I said, my voice sounding unnaturally high-pitched to my own ears. She looked at me, unconvinced.
“What do you want to know?”
“Nothing,” I blurted out quickly.
“That’s a lie and you know it. We might as well address it now and get it over with so we can actually enjoy ourselves.”
We were interrupted by the hostess telling us our table was ready. As I followed her, I could feel the anxiety building inside me. I wanted desperately to know if Maziar had moved on, but I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to deal with the magnitude of that information. I was deep in thought when we reached our table, almost tumbling over the hostess when she stopped. Luckily, I was able to grab the back of a chair and steady myself before falling. I still managed to score a few annoyed glances from the neighboring patrons.
I couldn’t make eye contact with Neda for fear that she could see the broken pieces her cousin
had left behind. I busied myself with sugar and cream, absently stirring the coffee the waitress placed in front of me. Again she reached out and put her hand on mine, steadying my methodical movement. I looked up at her.
“He still thinks about you,” she said. She hesitated a moment before adding, “But he’s moved on.”
My breath caught in my throat. Was it just me, or was the room moving side to side like we were on a boat? I closed my eyes, trying to steady the swaying.
“What do you mean he’s moved on? He has a girlfriend now?” I asked, eyes still closed, holding my breath as I hung onto her next words.
“No, he doesn’t have a girlfriend, but he’s dating,” she replied. When I looked at her, I could see sympathy, and even pity, in her face. Then, she threw in, “Nothing serious or anything,” as if that made it less of a blow.
It had finally happened; I’d become that pathetic person. The one who was left behind and still held on like a foolish child. The person everyone looked at with pity and eventually boredom. How’d I let myself get here? How did I end up being a stupid girl, allowing myself to embark on a journey I knew would leave me in its dust?
Neda took a deep breath, as if she were gathering her own courage to speak.
“But Sara, you need to move on. He fought with Amoo and Zanamoo as hard as he could, but they wouldn’t budge. I think he just realized it wouldn’t work and is trying to move on with his life. You know I love him, but he’s not good for you anymore.”
She squeezed my hand, and my mind was suddenly flooded with thoughts of Ben. I wanted to be near him, have him throw his arms around me, make me feel like the world revolved around me. I wanted to see him look at me the way he always did, making me feel like I was the only person in the universe who mattered.
“Move on, Sara. Don’t waste any more time waiting around for him,” she urged.
I knew she loved Maziar fiercely, which made what she was saying even worse. Maziar would have interpreted this conversation as a betrayal; he would never forgive her. But she said it anyway, because she was my friend, and because she truly believed we were over.
“Thank you. I appreciate you being honest with me.”
When I got home, I dragged my body to my room, the weight of the world resting on my shoulders. I wasn’t plagued with the pain I would have thought I’d feel after finding out that Maziar had moved on. I didn’t feel overwhelmed with anger. I just simply felt bone-tired, the kind that was emanating from the deepest parts of me, and radiating out like a blanket threatening to smother me to death. I wanted to lie down and sleep for an eternity. I walked into my room and closed the door, falling face first onto my pillows.
I vaguely remember Mom coming in a few times asking me if I was ill. I mumbled an incoherent response and shooed her away. When I finally awoke, the day had turned to night, and someone had thrown a blanket on me. I felt peaceful wrapped up in the cocoon of the covers and rolled over to go back to sleep when I glanced at the clock on my wall. It read six. I sat up with a jolt, realizing Leyla would be picking me up in an hour.
I heard my phone buzz on the nightstand. I’d missed three calls from Leyla, two from Ben, and a handful of text messages from both. They knew I had brunch with Neda this morning. They probably both thought my silence was an indication that it had gone badly. I quickly sent them messages saying I’d fallen asleep, then jumped in the shower.
Leyla showed up at my house at seven, despite my pleas for extra time. She thought it would be more productive for her to sit on my bed staring with disapproving eyes at my tardiness. I couldn’t decide what to wear, and she was making me more nervous pointing out every minute that passed on the clock.
“Just put something on, Sara! We’re going to be so late!” she begged.
I threw my hands up in defeat and settled on a pair of dark blue jeans and a white blouse. I threw on Maziar’s necklace out of habit, but hid it beneath a few others, trying to make myself feel less ridiculous. He’d moved on. The thought suddenly pressed down on my mind, but before I had a chance to dwell on it, Leyla dragged me out the door. I couldn’t help but laugh that I was being scolded for being late to my own party.
We got to the karaoke bar twenty minutes later. It was small and quaint, with a stage at the far right facing a flat screen that showed all the lyrics to the chosen song. To the left of the stage were bins, each filled with various props that could be used during the performances. Currently, there was a middle-aged man, wearing a big Afro wig, singing obnoxiously to “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor. His singing was miserable, but he had half the place yelling at the top of their lungs along with him, and the other half laughing hysterically. It seemed to be a success.
Leyla came up behind me and grabbed my arm. I turned toward her and saw that my friends had taken over the three tables at the far left wall. They were talking, each with a drink in hand. Ben was sitting in the middle, slightly turned toward his right, engaged in a conversation with Sandra. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she was giggling.
He was radiating with charm, something I’d realized he had no clue he possessed. He didn’t seem to notice how women naturally flocked to him. He was oblivious to the fact that he was gorgeous, making him that much more appealing.
Leyla guided us toward the table, and everyone broke out in a cheer once they’d realized I had arrived. I laughed at their goofiness, obviously further in on drinks than I’d estimated. I had some catching up to do.
“Happy birthday, doll,” Ben said when I made my way over to him.
I smiled, batting my eyes like a lovesick puppy. What was I doing?
My parents didn’t know Ben would be at the karaoke bar. Their protests had become more frequent and exponentially more irritating. Even though something seemed to be happening between us, I hadn’t admitted it to them. They’d become relentless with their “worries” about Ben, so when they’d asked if he would be there, I’d lied.
Ben had grown up in Minnetonka, Minnesota, a small suburban city in Hennepin County. His mom was a schoolteacher and his stepdad a CPA. He was one of three brothers, each two years apart. Ben was the middle child.
He grew up playing baseball and was good enough to get a full scholarship to Stanford, where he played for four years. He studied hard and got a 4.0 GPA, landing him at USC pharmacy school. He’d never had anything handed to him, and the life he was creating for himself he’d done on his own. He was humble. I loved that about him.
Ben’s best friend, Josh, was visiting for the weekend. I suddenly noticed him sitting to Ben’s right. They had grown up together, living on the same block from the age of six. They were in the same first grade class. Josh had started school a few weeks late and Ben was designated as Josh’s buddy. It sparked a lifelong friendship.
Sandra was sitting next to him. I noticed the subtle way she leaned in toward Josh as he spoke. It was obvious they were into each other because neither noticed me until Ben reached out and tapped Josh’s shoulder. They both looked up.
“Hi,” Sandra squealed, standing up to hug me.
“Hey, Sara. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Josh said, over her shoulder.
Everyone scooted down to give me a seat next to Ben. He pulled out the chair for me like the gentleman that he was. Josh bought the table a round of shots and my first vodka tonic. Abby was busily snapping photos, and Maya had consumed enough liquid courage that she was now trying to drag Leyla up on stage with her to do their own rendition of Whitney Houston’s “I Want to Dance with Somebody.” Ben had his arm draped over the back of my chair, locked in an intense conversation over a baseball game with Thomas.
I realized I was surrounded by all of my favorite people. Even though Maziar was missing, every single person there would have done anything for me. For the first time in months, I felt blessed. I knew Ben was one of those blessings.
The night turned out to be a hot mess of outlandish renditions of famous eighties and nineties songs. As soon as we all had en
ough alcohol in our systems to dull our fears, we went up in various combinations to perform our favorites. My favorite performance of the night was when Ben and the boys got up to sing their version of Silk’s hit, “Freak Me.” It felt like we were caught in a clothed interpretation of a Magic Mike movie. We all lost our voices as we cheered them on. Ben had a group of groupies desperate for his attention in the front row, but he never took his eyes off me, leaving my skin tingling with excitement. When they were done, the house gave them a standing ovation.
Leyla leaned in and whispered, “If you don’t go after that, then I will.”
I laughed, knowing there was some truth to her statement. She smiled at me as she planted the seed of Ben a little further into my mind.
Chapter Seventeen
Our summer internship was approaching its end, and there was a certain sadness in the air at work. We’d all become friends and saying goodbye seemed impossible.
It was Friday, and Seti came over to where Ben and I were restocking supplies.
“You two free tonight? We’re all going for sushi after work. You guys want to come?”
Ben and I were still carpooling, so our after-work decision had to be united. He looked at me, raising an eyebrow in question.
“I’m good to go if you are, Ben,” I replied.
“We’re in, then,” he said, smiling, flashing his dimples at Seti as she flushed under his gaze.
Once the day was over, I ran to the bathroom to freshen up. I was still wearing Maziar’s necklace around my neck. I watched in the mirror as it twinkled against the fluorescent lights overhead. My hand involuntarily reached up for it, rubbing its smooth, cold surface between my fingertips. I didn’t know why I kept wearing it even though things were over between us. It comforted me somehow, as if it were a magical talisman connecting the two of us through its existence.
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