Love Inc.

by Yvonne Collins

  I make a spontaneous Sunday night visit to my mom’s, hoping to make a goodwill deposit in the family bank. Although I’ve demoted Mom to mere custodian, if she doesn’t see enough of me she starts asking too many questions. The key to keeping her calm is to volunteer face time. That’s especially tough during Ramadan, with the prayer ramp-up, and food and drink off-limits between sunrise and sunset.

  The pressure sends me sneaking into the kitchen for a snack, not long after I arrive. It bothers me that Mom’s observing Ramadan for the first time in my memory.

  Mom catches me in the act, but instead of giving me grief, she opens a box of rice crackers and hands them to me. If seeing me eat is better than not seeing me at all, she can’t be that far gone.

  ‘What’s with all the takeout?’ I ask, doing inventory. ‘I got a part-time job at Whole Foods,’ she says. ‘I want to support myself now that you and your sister don’t need me at home anymore.’

  I reach for the eggplant purée. ‘How about selling your beauty products? My friends love them, and you used to talk about making it a business.’

  ‘I was dreaming.’ She dismisses the idea with a wave. ‘That’s just a hobby.’

  Saliyah descends upon us before I can argue. ‘Excuse me. We’re supposed to be fasting.’

  I nearly choke on my rice cracker. In addition to my salwar kameez, my sister is wearing an orange-and-gold veil over her nearly waist-length brown hair. ‘Oh hi, Nani,’ I say. ‘I barely recognised you without the facial hair.’

  My mother shushes us and starts putting the food away, but the damage is done.

  ‘Zahra,’ Nani says, coming into the kitchen. ‘You’re eating.’ She checks out my jeans and T-shirt, and purses her lips. They’re not modest enough, I suppose. ‘I have something to discuss with you. Come with me.’

  ‘I can’t. Saliyah and I are going out.’

  ‘We are?’ Saliyah says, her dark eyes lighting up as she smiles. ‘Just give me five.’ Without any encouragement from me, she runs for the stairs to change, tearing off the veil as she goes.

  ‘Zahra,’ Mom says.

  ‘You want Saliyah and me to spend time together, and we need to go over our options for her school bake sale. Nani and I can chat next time.’

  Mom lets me off the hook again. I get away with so much more since taking over my own upbringing. I should have climbed into the driver’s seat long ago.

  I rush my sister out of the house and up the street to the Taco Shack. The sun still hasn’t set when Saliyah, in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, tucks into her chicken burrito. It’s a small victory over my grandparents, and I savor it.

  ‘What about Ramadan?’ I ask. ‘Is your soul going to take a beating for this?’

  ‘It’s my first fast,’ she says, wiping guacamole off her chin. ‘I consider it a practice round.’

  ‘Let’s hope Allah agrees.’

  Making a face at me, she changes the subject. ‘How’s Dad?’

  ‘If he isn’t working, he’s in front of his computer, or listening to jazz and staring into space. I think he’s depressed.’

  ‘Mom too,’ Saliyah says. ‘She always in the basement mixing stuff up.’

  ‘Avoiding Nani and Nana, I guess.’

  ‘They’re not that bad.’

  ‘You’re getting brainwashed and you don’t even know it. Pretty soon they’ll have you wrapped up in a sari and on a plane to Karachi. They’ll marry you off to the first old guy who offers a decent dowry.’

  ‘Zahra! You’re like a racist or something.’

  ‘It’s not racism when you’re mocking your own culture.’

  ‘Let’s hope Allah agrees,’ she says, smirking.

  My phone rings, and I step outside to take it so that Saliyah can’t hear Kali and me discuss my upcoming meeting with Lauren and Trey. I’ve tried to weasel out of it, but Kali and Syd insist I’m the best girl for the job. My so-called mediation skills have never paid off at home, but I’ll have to give it my best shot.

  Back inside, I find Nani at our table, her fuchsia salwar kameez glowing like a beacon in the dim room. Why can’t she just wear regular old lady street clothes? Unless it’s a formal occasion, Nana wears pants and a dress shirt.

  ‘Hello again,’ Nani says cheerfully, as if I didn’t blow her off twenty minutes ago. ‘I was out for a walk and saw your sister sitting alone.’

  Saliyah’s sheepish expression tells me Nani was tipped off. ‘So what did you want to talk about?’ I ask.

  Nani takes the burrito and moves it out of Saliyah’s reach. ‘Boys. I didn’t want your Nana to hear.’

  There is no angle on this subject I could possibly want to explore with her. ‘Nani, don’t worry, I’ve given up on boys. It’s not a problem.’

  ‘Boys are always a problem until you find the right one,’ she says. ‘And even then …’

  She sounds almost nice, which means I have to be extra vigilant. A master brainwasher tries to get you off your home turf and win you over.

  ‘I want to give you one piece of advice,’ she says. ‘It will make all the difference: Marry a man who cherishes you and accepts you for all that you are.’

  It’s hard to argue with something so corny and mundane. ‘Fine, but I’m not planning on getting married.’

  ‘Take your time,’ she says. ‘Your mother married too young. Which brings me to my second piece of advice.’ She opens her bag, pulls out a few sheets of paper, and slides them across the table. ‘Marry your own kind.’

  I glare at my sister. These are printouts from Facebook, and Nani doesn’t know how to turn on the computer. Saliyah gives me the helpless shrug of the brainwashed.

  ‘Nice handsome boys, all of them,’ Nani continues. ‘I know their parents. I know where they come from. I know their values. And I know they’ll treat you like a queen. Look at this one.’ I slap my hand down on the page and pull it in front of me. To my surprise, the guy is hot. His hazel eyes stand out against mocha skin, and his hair and clothes are cutting-edge cool. The guy has style. Or a stylist.

  ‘Flip it over,’ Nani says.

  On the back, she’s noted specifics in her loopy handwriting, in order of her priorities.

  Name: Riaz Dar

  Age: 16

  Religion: Sunni Islam.

  Pedigree: Mother, father, and grandfather all medical doctors, originally from Karachi

  Education: Straight-A student, aiming for pre-med at Yale

  Future Prospects: Excellent

  Romantic Status: Single (recently broke up with a Shi’ite - no surprise it didn’t work out)

  Interests: Soccer, music, volunteering with Big Brothers

  Available: Immediately (but probably not for long)

  ‘What do you think?’ she asks.

  ‘I think if it seems too good to be true, it is. He’s probably the president of the Star Trek fan club and enjoys ant farming.’

  ‘No Star Trek, no ants,’ Nani says. ‘I talked to him for an hour last week when I joined the Eid carnival planning committee. Will you think about it?’

  The best way to fight someone as manipulative as my grandmother is to let her believe she’s won. ‘Sure, Nani. I’ll think about it. Why not?’

  Smiling, she glances out the window and sees the sun has set, meaning the fast is officially broken. She pushes the burrito toward my sister and takes her wallet out of her purse. ‘Order me one of those, Zahra. Extra jalapeños.’

  Chapter Nine

  Lauren and I put on our bathing suits and step out of the changing room.

  ‘What are we doing here?’ she asks, looking from the Barton Springs Pool to my pale MacDuff skin. ‘I’m guessing it’s not so you can work on your tan.’

  ‘Thanks for the reminder.’ I pull a bottle of sunscreen from my beach bag and spray it on before leading Lauren up the grassy slope that overlooks the water. ‘There’s something I want you to see.’

  ‘Can’t we see it from the deck?’ she asks. ‘The grass is where the nude bathers hang.
’

  ‘Trust me,’ I say, spreading out my towel. ‘That’s all part of the master plan.’

  The rest of the master plan is a bit sketchy. I downloaded some articles on the basic rules of negotiation and mediation, but you can’t become an instant expert. Since I couldn’t sleep last night, I spent some time on my fantasy set with Oliver James, working through the angles for my discussion with Trey and Lauren. He was full of good advice.

  As Lauren predicted, it doesn’t take long for the grass to fill up and bikini tops to come off. I’m amazed how blasé some girls are about skin cancer.

  Pulling Kali’s camouflage binoculars out of my beach bag, I scan the area. Lauren pushes my hand down. ‘Zahra, you shouldn’t switch teams just because of Eric. Not all guys are jerks.’

  ‘I know,’ I say, handing her the binoculars. ‘There’s a nice guy on the diving board now.’

  Lauren lifts the binoculars and watches as Trey soars into the air, jackknifes, and straightens out to slice the surface of the water. ‘What’s Trey doing here?’ she says. ‘And when did he learn to dive like that?’

  ‘Apparently he’s been practicing. A lot.’

  Lauren lowers the binoculars to look at me. ‘That’s why he’s never around?’

  When I nod, she trains the binoculars on her boyfriend again and watches as he hoists himself out of the water. Girls’ heads swivel when he walks back to the diving board, but Trey doesn’t give a single bikini a second glance. I’m about to point this out to Lauren when he sneaks a peek in our direction.

  ‘He’s not here to dive,’ Lauren says. ‘He’s here for the skin.’

  ‘Lauren, if there are boobs on display, any guy’s going to look.’

  ‘It’s just so – Oops!’ she lowers the binoculars. ‘Busted.’

  Trey climbs off the board and comes to greet us. With Lauren in view, he pretends the slope isn’t littered with half-naked women. I guess that’s the best you can expect from a guy. ‘Hey, baby,’ Trey says. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Lauren introduces me and pats her beach towel. ‘It’s kind of a long story.’

  Trey’s smile has vanished by the time Lauren finishes. ‘You hired someone to spy on me?’

  This isn’t how it went in my dress rehearsal. I prepared for confusion, evasion, silence, and remorse. I even worked out a strategy in case Trey dumped Lauren. But I didn’t prepare for pissed off. Obviously, Oliver James is too nice. I should have brought in celebrity chef Gordon Ramshead, instead. Anger would have been his default choice.

  Then again, I have to be true to my motto. Maybe all Trey needs is a sprinkle of sugar.

  ‘It wasn’t spying, exactly,’ I say. ‘And everyone we talked to had good things to say about you, Trey. Great things.’

  ‘We? There’s a team out there talking to people about me?’

  I try again. ‘Not a team, per se, just a couple of Lauren’s friends trying to solve a mystery together.’

  Trey looks from me to Lauren, and the anger dilutes with hurt. ‘We’ve been together over a year. If you don’t trust me now, you never will.’

  Lauren’s eyes fill with tears as Trey gets to his feet.

  Worried that this might end in tragedy, I listen hard for the inner voice. A good chef takes charge in the kitchen, Oliver says. When all else fails, go with your gut.

  Counting on Trey’s good manners, I say, ‘Let me ask one simple question: Where was Lauren supposed to be right now?’

  ‘Ballet class,’ he answers.

  ‘And where will she be tomorrow afternoon?’

  ‘A yearbook committee meeting.’ He starts down the slope. ‘Look, ask Lauren about her schedule. I’m done here.’

  ‘One last question,’ I call. ‘Where will she be Thursday afternoon?’

  ‘She has’ – Trey’s eye’s flick to Lauren then back to me – ‘an important meeting that’s none of your business.’

  Even when he’s this angry at Lauren he won’t betray her secrets. Now, that’s a guy worth fighting for. ‘I know she has group, because I do too. But I’m surprised she told you about it.’

  His hands rest on his hips. ‘Why wouldn’t she tell me? I’m her boyfriend.’

  ‘Because it meant trusting you with her biggest secret.’ I breathe a little easier as the conversation starts to resemble what I’d rehearsed.

  Trey sees where I’m going, but he’s not buying it. ‘And then she hired spies to trail me.’

  ‘Because you haven’t trusted her with your biggest secret, apparently.’

  ‘She knows my biggest secrets, and this isn’t one of them. It’s nothing.’

  Ha. This I anticipated. ‘Isn’t that worse?’ I ask. ‘To shut her out of something as minor as diving?’

  ‘Nothing’s worse than spying.’

  I don’t let him throw me off course. ‘Like you said, it all comes down to trust. And lately you’ve been unreliable. You barely call, you barely text. You’ve canceled plans without a good explanation. You’re the one who’s undermined the trust.’

  Trey takes a few steps toward us and stops. I’ve sunk the hook, but it’ll take one more good point to reel him in the rest of the way. ‘Think about what Lauren’s gone through this past year. She needs to know she can count on you.’

  Trey comes back and sits beside Lauren again. ‘Baby, I was just diving. Sometimes here, but mostly in the diving pool at UT. My swim coach has been pushing me to compete.’

  ‘So why all the secrecy?’ Lauren asks.

  Trey shrugs. ‘I was afraid I wouldn’t make it to Regionals, and I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me if I failed.’

  Lauren throws her arms around him. ‘Baby, I’m always proud of you.’

  Trey kisses the top of her head. ‘Keeping it a secret seems kind of stupid now. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Me too,’ Lauren says. ‘I should have just talked to you.’

  ‘I’ll never cheat on you,’ Trey says. He gives me a last glare. ‘And you’ll never have me tailed again, right?’

  ‘I promise,’ she says.

  ‘So can we go for a swim?’ he asks, pulling her to her feet.

  She looks back at me, and I smile.

  ‘Go ahead. My work is done.’

  I trail after them to the deck, hearing Oliver’s voice in my head: Well done, mate. Absolutely brill.

  After Eric made me believe that happy endings are impossible, it was nice to be part of one today. It’s still an adrenaline hit, but milder than the one I got from revenge. I just wish I could keep this feeling going on a regular basis.

  My buzz fades instantly as my feet fly off the deck and I hit the water hard – beach bag and all. Someone blindsided me. My back stings from the impact as I kick toward the surface. Sputtering as I take my first gasp of air, I see a familiar strip of blue cloth floating a few feet in front of me. I look down in horror and discover I’ve lost the top of my bathing suit.

  But as I reach out to grab it, a net dips into the water and fishes it out.

  On the concrete deck a few feet away, water drips onto ten blue toenails adorned with daisies.

  ‘Oh, is this yours?’ Hollis asks, waggling the net just out of reach. She’s wearing a tiny bikini that accentuates her angles. Beside her, Fletcher turns away from his buddies to see what’s going on, and his eyes light up when he takes in the view. ‘Well, well. Look who’s getting naked all over town now.’ He pulls the towel from around his neck and dangles it in front of me. ‘Need some help drying off?’

  Hollis whacks him in the arm with the pole, and the impact ejects my bathing suit top from the net. Fletcher tries to grab it, but another hand intercepts and tosses it directly back to me.

  Fletcher turns, ready to take on the person who’s ruined his game. But when he catches sight of Trey’s broad swimmer’s shoulders, he lets it go.

  I call out my thanks to Trey, and he gives me a guy-nod, to say it’s all good now.

  Syd and Kali are laughing as we walk up the Congress Avenue Bridge t
o join the crowd that is already gathering.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ I say. ‘Fletcher is the last guy on earth I want seeing me topless.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry,’ Kali says, still smiling from under the brim of her enormous hat. ‘But that was so nice of Trey.’

  ‘What’s with the hat?’ I ask.

  ‘UV rays aren’t sucking the youth out of my skin,’ she says.

  Syd snickers. ‘Forget UV rays. Kali believes the old wives’ tale.’

  ‘My hair’s my best asset – after my legs,’ Kali says. ‘I don’t intend to lose a single curl because a rat with wings is stuck in it.’

  We’ve come to watch the largest urban bat colony in North America leave its daytime roost under the bridge and fly off into the dusk. Syd wants to take photos as inspiration for her new graffiti series – or ‘street art,’ as she calls it. Her goal is to commemorate a creature that’s barely changed in fifty million years. Apparently she finds their consistency comforting while her own life is in turmoil.

  Seeing over a million bats take off at the same time is one of the coolest sights nature has to offer. My family used to come often, until this year. Now my parents avoid anything we did as a family, even eating at our favorite restaurants. No one talks about it, of course. It’s the family way.

  I finish my update on Lauren’s reunion with Trey, and Syd shakes her head. ‘That was the big secret? Competitive diving?’

  ‘Small secrets can become big problems, I guess,’ I say. ‘Anyway, Lauren was so thrilled to hear Trey’s still into her that she gave us a fifty dollar bonus.’

  Kali tips her hat back and beams at me. ‘You really have a gift, Zahra.’

  Syd takes off her vintage cat’s-eye sunglasses. As usual, she’s looking funky, in silver leggings paired with an old T-shirt and a guy’s suit vest. ‘Nice job.’

  Kali notices a guy rolling past on his skateboard and smiles at him. ‘You probably bought Lauren and Trey another six months,’ she says.