Heart Trouble

by Jae

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t planning on…well, you know…masturbating.” She forced herself to be an adult and say the word. No sense in beating around the bush. Laleh knew everything anyway. “But then I was taking a shower and—”

  Laleh groaned. “Stop. I’m aware of what happened in the shower. I don’t need all the details…again.”

  “I’m sorry.” It seemed to be all she was capable of saying. “I wanted you to know that I didn’t mean to hurt you or make you feel used. I didn’t want to think of you while I… It just happened.”

  A strangled gasp filtered through the line.

  “Laleh? Are you—?”

  “You were thinking…” Laleh’s voice came out in a squeak. “…of me? While you…?”

  Hope sank to the living room floor and clutched the edge of the coffee table with her free hand. “You…? You don’t…? You didn’t…? I thought you knew.”

  A burst of shock and anger hit Hope through their link. Shit, shit, shit!

  Laleh muttered a string of colorful Persian swear words. “Vay khoda! How was I supposed to know? Even with our link, I can’t read your thoughts. I thought we were friends.”

  “We are,” Hope said.

  “Do you make it a habit to think of your friends like…like that?”

  “No, of course not. But, damn, Laleh, you’re an attractive woman, and I like you, and I’m just human, and I… I don’t know why that happened. All I know is that I don’t want to lose your friendship over this.” She realized she was babbling, so she paused, allowing her brain to catch up. “Wait a minute… If you didn’t know, why were you so angry?”

  Only Laleh’s breathing—shallow and fast—could be heard for several seconds. “Because…because…you sprung this on me without any warning. Jeez, Hope, I was in the middle of the damn grocery store and suddenly felt like jumping the bones of the closest halfway attractive wo…person!”

  Oh, please, please, don’t give me any mental images! Since she hadn’t had much luck with songs, Hope latched on to medical facts to distract herself and shield her emotions from Laleh. She mentally recited the carpal bones. Scaphoid, lunate, triquetrum, pisiform, trapezium, trapezoid, capitate, hamate. Too bad that the medical mnemonic that had helped her memorize the order of the bones brought her right back to the topic of sex: some lovers try positions that they cannot handle.

  “I’m sorry,” she said once again because she didn’t know what else to say.

  Laleh didn’t answer.

  “Where do we go from here?” Hope asked quietly.

  “We need to make sure this never happens again.” This time, Laleh’s answer came immediately. “It’s too…”

  Disgusting? Infuriating? Weird? But as much as Hope waited for Laleh to finish her sentence, she didn’t.

  The anger emanating from her wavered. Now the only emotions Hope could sense were confusion and bewilderment.

  Hope took a deep breath. “How do we do that? I mean, I wouldn’t do it again. Not on purpose. I didn’t do it on purpose yesterday either. My mind just latched on to you.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem. We’re too focused on each other. Jeez, Hope, I’ve hardly spent any time in my own apartment the last two weeks!”

  What’s wrong with that? Hope wanted to say. But Laleh was right. Spending too much time together seemed to have made their connection even stronger, so playing house with Laleh had to stop. She’d already let her get too close. “So you think we shouldn’t see each other anymore?”

  It struck her how much they sounded like a couple breaking up. And it hurt just as much. More, actually. Her last breakup hadn’t made her feel as if part of her was missing, but this did—and Laleh hadn’t even walked out yet.

  Laleh sucked in a breath. “No,” she blurted and then exhaled noisily. “I mean, even if we wanted to, we couldn’t shut each other out entirely, but we should definitely get some distance.”

  “I…” Hope cleared her throat. “I agree.” She needed to get her head together where Laleh was concerned.

  “Good.” Laleh was silent for a moment. Her emotions made up for that by bombarding Hope with a noisy hailstorm of regret, confusion, and determination.

  “So, I guess, that’s it…for now.” Even in Hope’s ears, it sounded like a question.

  “Yeah.” Laleh’s breathing reverberated through the phone. “Take good care of yourself, okay?”

  “You too,” was all Hope could say.

  Laleh ended the call. Even her emotions became muted, and then a song started, something about letting it rain.

  Hope sighed, put her cell phone down, and rubbed it on her shirt as if erasing all traces of Laleh. Distance. Shouldn’t be a problem, right? Keeping her distance was her guiding philosophy, after all.

  Then why did it feel so very wrong now?

  CHAPTER 18

  Apparently, her parents were getting desperate. Mr. Toofani, the potential suitor they had invited over for tea a few days before Christmas, had only a bachelor’s degree, with no intention of getting a master’s. His family owned a small grocery store in West LA, which he wanted to take over one day.

  Her parents obviously thought that would give them something in common, since they were both in the food industry.

  “If you are looking for a husband, you have to go at it logically,” her mother had said to her earlier in the kitchen. “The love will come later.”

  Laleh doubted it. Even their jobs didn’t give them much to talk about. Whenever he mentioned his grocery store, her mind flashed back to her…interesting visit to the grocery store in her neighborhood last week and to what she had found out afterward.

  Hope, who was quickly becoming one of her best friends, was having sexual thoughts about her. And even though that in itself was already shocking enough, that wasn’t all. At least to herself, Laleh could admit that her thoughts had been wandering into decidedly non-friendly territory too. That image of Hope touching herself in the shower crept up at the most inopportune times—for example, when she was having tea with her parents and the man they hoped she’d date.

  She took a sugar cube from the silver bowl on the table, put it between her teeth, and sipped her hot tea through it. At least it gave her a good excuse for not talking.

  Something hit her shin beneath the table.

  Ouch. Her sugar cube plopped into the tea. She glared at her mother, who gestured toward Mr. Toofani in a way that was embarrassingly apparent.

  Laleh picked up the bowl of Persian trail mix and slid it closer to him. “More ajil?”

  At least if his mouth was full, he couldn’t mention his store again.

  A wave of cologne, which her father had splashed on in honor of their guest, hit Laleh’s nose as he leaned across the table and heaped two more squares of baklava onto Mr. Toofani’s plate. “Take some baklava. My wife makes the best baklava in the city. Any man would be happy to have her as his mother-in-law.”

  How much more obvious could they possibly get? Laleh wanted to hide beneath the table. She and Mr. Toofani exchanged gazes.

  At least he seemed as embarrassed as she was.

  He ate the baklava with a polite smile and made small talk for another hour before finally excusing himself.

  Laleh jumped up too. “I’ll accompany him to his car.” It was the only way to escape the parental lecture she was about to get as soon as the door closed behind Mr. Toofani.

  It only took him five minutes to say his good-byes and make it out the door—a speed record by Persian standards.

  Laleh followed close behind.

  They headed toward his car in silence. It reminded Laleh of the way she and Hope had walked to their cars on Thanksgiving. She curled her empty fingers into a fist as she remembered holding Hope’s hand, brushing her thumb across her knuckles, and wanting to wipe that bit of lipstick off Hope’s cheek so badly. She had felt so connected to Hope. With Mr. Toofani, there was nothing. Was it really only their link that made things so different with Hope, or was
it possible that her feelings were growing in a direction she had never considered before?

  Mr. Toofani turned to face her in front of his Honda Civic. “Thanks again for the invitation. That was…um…”

  “Awkward,” Laleh said before she could stop herself. Wow. Where had her manners gone?

  Mr. Toofani’s eyes widened. Just as Laleh prepared to apologize profusely, he laughed. “Yes, it was. I take it your parents talked you into meeting me?”

  Laleh nodded. “Yours too?”

  “Oh yeah. They can be very convincing. ‘What’s wrong with you? Don’t you want to get married and give us grandchildren before the ripe old age of twenty-eight?’” He imitated the tone of his mother perfectly.

  Laleh knew that without having met her, because her mother sounded the same.

  “‘You’re not,’” he lowered his voice the way his mother had probably done, “‘you know, G-A-Y?’”

  An unladylike snort escaped Laleh. “As if you have to be gay to dislike being paraded around in front of every unmarried Persian guy—or girl, in your case—in Los Angeles!”

  He stopped laughing and looked down at the obligatory leftovers Laleh’s mother had sent home with him. “Actually, I am.”

  It took Laleh several seconds to figure out what he meant. “You…you’re gay?”

  He grinned crookedly. “Gayer than a pink feather boa at a Pride parade.”

  “I take it you haven’t told your parents?”

  His grin instantly disappeared. “Oh, no. My father would kill me, and my mother…” He squeezed his eyes shut.

  She lightly put a hand on his arm. Poor guy. She could only imagine how hard this had to be for him. Unlike hers, his parents might even be religious and threaten him with the blazing fires of Jahannam, the Islamic version of hell. “I’m sorry.”

  He opened his eyes and studied her. “How about you?”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. Have you told them?”

  Laleh tilted her head. “Told who what?”

  “Told your parents about your sexual orientation.”

  What the…? Laleh’s jaw dropped, and her hand slid off his arm. “What are you talking about? I’m not gay!”

  “You’re not?”

  “No!”

  He lifted both hands, palm out, and backed away until he collided with his car. “Calm down. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “I’m not insulted. I just…” It had hit a little too close to home, she admitted to herself. “How did you know? No! I mean… What made you think that…that I’m…gay?”

  “Your shoes,” he said.

  Laleh glanced down at her sneakers. “Hey, I’m a waitress. We’re on our feet all day, so of course we wear sensible shoes! That has nothing to do with—”

  “I was just joking.”

  She took a deep breath. “What was it, then?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. You give off this…vibe.”

  “Vibe?”

  “Yeah. A vibe that says no matter how many eligible bachelors your parents invite over for tea, you won’t be interested in any of them.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m gay.” Or did it? Jeez, she was so confused, and he wasn’t helping. “Maybe my parents aren’t inviting the right kind of guys.” It didn’t sound very convincing, even to herself.

  He leaned back against his car and folded his arms across his chest in a challenging stance. “So, what would the right kind be?”

  She directed her gaze up at the sky and tried to imagine her perfect spouse. “Someone interesting and intelligent. And with a great sense of humor. Not too clingy, but needs to like spending time with me. Someone confident, who tends to take charge but who also has a secret soft spot.”

  He smiled, stepped away from the driver’s side door, and unlocked it. He got in and slid down the window so he could still talk to her. “Notice what you didn’t mention?”

  “What? You mean looks—hair color, eye color, height, that sort of thing?” She didn’t care so much about that, as long as the chemistry and the trust between them were there.

  “No.” He started the car. Raising his voice over the engine sounds, he added, “Pronouns. You never said he.”

  Laleh stared after him until the Honda Civic disappeared around the corner. Shit, he was right. “But I never said she either,” she shouted after the car. But even as she said it, she had to admit that her description of what she wanted in a partner fit Hope to a T.

  “She?” a voice said behind her.

  Laleh whirled around.

  Her father stood in front of her with a garbage can, which he put down at the curb.

  “Uh, nothing, Baba. It’s nothing.”

  He studied her the way he had when she’d been a child and he had suspected her of having hidden a flashlight somewhere so she could read beneath the covers at night. Which, of course, she had.

  She squirmed beneath his gaze.

  “You didn’t like him, did you?” he finally said. “At least not like that.”

  “No, Baba, I didn’t.” I think I like someone else, and that’s totally freaking me out. Was the attraction she experienced her own or just a reflection of what Hope felt for her?

  “Maybe you would if you gave it some time,” her father said. “Just like it happened for your mother and me.”

  Laleh shook her head. “I don’t think that would work for me. You can’t force something if it’s not there.” Or make it go away if it is.

  He gave her an indulgent smile. “You young people, you all expect some magical thing to happen. Love at first sight and all that. For what it’s worth,” he said and pulled her into his arms, “I hope the magic will happen for you.”

  She sank into the familiar embrace, not even minding that he must have used an entire bottle of cologne, and clung to him for as long as she could without him starting to suspect that something was wrong with her.

  A few months ago, his words would have made her happy because they meant that he respected her wishes even though they didn’t match his own ideas of the best method to find a spouse. Now they reminded her that there was already something magical happening in her life—the mysterious link to Hope—and she was no longer sure whether it was all that great.

  But there was one thing she knew for sure: She would no longer allow her parents to set up any tea dates for her. There had never been even a hint of a spark with any of the bachelors her parents had invited over, and there would probably never be. Mr. Toofani had been right about that at least.

  One last longing glance at her car and she followed her father back into the house.

  “Wasn’t he nice?” Her mother clutched her hands together as if she were about to swoon.

  “He was,” Laleh said.

  Her mother beamed. “So you’ll meet him again? Did he ask you out?”

  “No, Maman. I won’t.” She forced herself to look her mother in the eye. “And neither will I go out with any of the other eligible bachelors you invite for tea. No more arranged dates.”

  “But…but how will you ever find the right man?”

  “If I’m meant to meet someone, I will. I have faith in that. But your matchmaking won’t work for me. So, please, stop.”

  Her mother stared at her with her mouth hanging open.

  Laleh had never put her foot down with her parents like this. Maybe some of Hope’s confidence had rubbed off on her.

  “I only want what’s best for you,” her mother said, her voice trembling. “And since you don’t seem to have any idea what kind of partner you want…”

  “I know what I don’t want, Maman.” It was hard to keep talking since she could see this was hurting her mother, but this had to be said once and for all. “I don’t want you to arrange any more tea dates for me. I know you mean well, but the world I live in is very different from the one you grew up in. I need to decide these things for myself.”

  She looked from her mother to her father, who shrugged.

  “I
f that’s what you want,” her mother said stiffly.

  “Thanks for understanding.” Laleh hugged her mother and waited until the embrace was returned before softly freeing herself. Two minutes later, she climbed into her car and slumped against the driver’s seat. There. No more tea dates. Hope would be so proud of her.

  Then she remembered that they weren’t talking at the moment, so she couldn’t tell Hope about her accomplishment.

  Sighing, she started the car.

  * * *

  Hope drove by the Christmas tree lot for the third time. Not because she couldn’t find a parking space, but because she wasn’t sure getting a tree was really a good idea. Finally, on the fourth trip around the block, she stopped and parked the car. Taking a look couldn’t hurt.

  The scent of pine needles engulfed her as soon as she climbed out of the car.

  Strings of multicolored lights hung above the tree lot’s entrance, and Christmas carols blared over the loudspeakers.

  Hope groaned. She had never been a big fan of Christmas, but this year, it was even worse. A week or two ago, things had looked so promising. She’d even picked out a Christmas present for Laleh. Now her newfound Christmas spirit was gone.

  When she was about to head back to her car, a man strode toward her, wearing thick gloves despite the sixty-degree temperature. “Can I help you?”

  Hope froze on the spot. “Um, yeah. I’m looking for a Christmas tree.” Duh, why else would she be here? “Maybe one that won’t shed too many needles.”

  He pointed to the back of the lot. “I have a couple of artificial trees, if you want to take a look. They won’t shed a single needle.”

  It was tempting, but she could almost hear what Laleh would say to that idea. She would declare that you couldn’t have a real Christmas with a fake tree. Yeah, but she won’t be there to see it.

  “No, thanks,” she said anyway. “I’ll just look around.”

  She walked from row to row, scratching her head. Who knew that picking a tree was so complicated?

  The salesman joined her after a while. “How about this one? It’s a blue spruce.” He pointed at a tree.