Love Inc.

by Yvonne Collins

  Syd leads Kali and me up a flight of iron stairs to the kitchen area of the Maternity Ward. It’s deserted except for Sinead and Leo, who sip coffee in silence at opposite ends of an old pine table. After making the introductions, Syd leaves to give Kali a tour. Although I’m still mad at them for putting me in this position, I’m relieved that they’re close by in case the unhappy couple realises I’m a fraud and tosses me out on my behind. There’s a huge difference between easing a reunion between two people in love and brokering a breakup between two people who’ve been cheating on each other. Fortunately, I had plenty of time to visit The Sweet Tooth set and run scenarios with Oliver James and Gordon Ramshead. Hopefully there won’t be any surprises this time, but if there are, I’ll go with my gut.

  To avoid giving Sinead and Leo a chance to question my credentials, I jump right in. ‘Syd tells me you’ve agreed to end your relationship but want to figure out if you can stay friends.’

  ‘Or at least polite acquaintances,’ says Sinead. She’s sixteen but looks older, with her wavy dark hair tied in a loose ponytail. ‘We’ve pretty much said all there is to say, but it’s still awkward when we run into each other here.’

  ‘I get that,’ I say, mentally reviewing the checklist I drafted earlier. First, I have to find common ground. ‘I can see how it would be hard to create if you’re tense and constantly looking over your shoulder.’

  Leo nods and cracks his knuckles, which are dusty with dried clay. I can tell he’d rather be anywhere else than here right now, letting some sophomore referee his breakup. He probably only agreed to it because he was the first to cheat. Normally, he’d be the one to fade into the background, but he can’t face giving up access to their communal property.

  ‘OK, so the Maternity Ward is important to both of you,’ I say. ‘Let’s see if we can come up with some guidelines so you can both hang out here. Who likes to work in the morning?’

  ‘Me,’ Leo says. ‘The light is better for sculpting.’

  ‘And Sinead, you mostly work off-site and use the Ward’s laser printer, right?’ I ask. ‘So you could come in later in the day, say after two or three?’

  There’s a moment where I think she’ll argue just for the sake of arguing, but she agrees. ‘Yeah, mostly I come after school anyway.’

  ‘But I can only come after school during the week,’ Leo argues.

  ‘OK, so how about Sinead gets Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after school, and weekends after three? Leo gets Tuesday and Thursday after school and weekends before three? Could that work?’

  ‘It’s kind of restrictive,’ Leo says.

  ‘This is just for a while, until you feel more comfortable with the breakup,’ I say. ‘What do you think?’

  Neither wants to be the first to nod, but finally they do.

  ‘Good,’ I say, secretly thrilled. ‘So what else would make things easier?’

  Sinead looks at Leo and scowls. ‘No nude models.’

  ‘I’m an artist; that’s what I do,’ he says. ‘You don’t get to be jealous anymore.’

  ‘Just because it’s a mutual split doesn’t mean it won’t be hard sometimes,’ I say. ‘So, Leo, how about, no female models if there’s any risk of running into Sinead?’

  ‘I’m supposed to sculpt fruit?’ He leans back and crosses his arms. ‘What does she give up?’

  ‘The same thing,’ I say. ‘No hot male subject matter. And no hooking up on-site – for either of you.’

  ‘But this is where we meet people,’ Leo says.

  I roll my eyes. Leo is gorgeous, with wavy blond hair and a cleft in his chin. ‘You know you could meet people anywhere,’ I say. ‘If you’ve been hooking up here, it’s only to piss each other off. Negative attention sometimes feels better than none at all.’

  They exchange glances that suggest I’m right on target.

  Encouraged, I continue. ‘So we’ve got two good rules. Let’s move on to friends. For the next few months, how about you leave with the friends you came into the relationship with?’

  ‘But our friends overlap now,’ Sinead says.

  ‘Then let’s go through them one by one and decide who gets to “keep” them for now. Later, when things settle down, you can renegotiate.’

  And so we progress through their history, dividing their friends, art, music, and DVDs they gave each other or bought together, and the places they like to hang out. It’s uncomfortable, especially since they’re now looking to me to make the final decisions. Although they seem relieved to have someone in charge, it’s scary to have so much responsibility.

  ‘What else could cause tension?’ I ask, trying to sound like a professional.

  Sinead looks at Leo and says, ‘What about your mother? Can I still see her?’

  This I didn’t expect. ‘His mom? That would be tricky.’

  ‘We’ve been close,’ Sinead says, and for the first time her voice cracks. ‘Because my mom is …’

  ‘Difficult,’ Leo says. He reaches for Sinead’s hand. ‘It’s OK. Mom’s really upset we’re breaking up. It would be good for both of you to have coffee now and then.’

  Sinead brightens. ‘Really?’

  ‘Great,’ I say. ‘But to make that work, Sinead, no discussing Leo with his mom.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ Leo says. ‘Then I can still play soccer with your brother?’

  ‘Fair enough,’ she says.

  ‘Shake on it,’ I suggest. It just seems like a good note to end on.

  By the time I head downstairs, I’m stoked. Every time I wear my new designer jeans, I’ll remember exactly how I earned them.

  The guy sitting beside me in the backseat of the car is venting. ‘My girlfriend and I are going through a hard time right now,’ he says. ‘We’ve been together for ages but her parents are on the rocks, and she says she wants to take a break.’ He sticks his hand out the window of the car to catch the breeze as we whiz along the highway.

  ‘Did she say she wants to break up?’ I ask.

  He shakes his head. ‘Not in those words. She said she needs space.’

  ‘That sounds pretty selfish to me,’ the driver says, speaking for the first time. ‘It’s like she wants to have her cake and eat it too. Well, she can’t expect you to just sit around while she works out her stuff.’ He rubs the steering wheel with a flannel cloth until it shines. ‘I’ve got an idea: why don’t you go out with Zahra? She’s not girlfriend material, but she’s a decent distraction. Easy to please and a good cook too.’

  I look up at the rearview mirror and find Eric’s deep blue eyes looking back at me. They crinkle when they meet mine.

  ‘I’m not easy to please,’ I say.

  Eric shrugs. ‘That might have changed. I heard you got bitter, and bitter’s a guy repellant.’ He glances at my client. ‘Go with Kali instead. She’s prettier and more fun.’

  ‘I’m fun,’ I say. ‘Lots of people like me.’

  ‘If you say so.’ Eric looks over his shoulder at my client and mouths, ‘Run!’

  I shoot up in the bed, my hair damp with sweat.

  ‘Another nightmare about Rico?’ Saliyah’s voice comes out of the darkness.

  ‘Yeah,’ I whisper, collapsing onto my damp pillow to wait for my heart to stop racing. ‘It’s the first in over a week, though.’

  At this rate, I’ll be in college before my subconscious gets over the humiliation of what happened with Eric.

  ‘Do you want the light on?’ Saliyah asks.

  I do, but I don’t want to admit it to my little sister. ‘Nah, I’m good.’

  There’s a gentle thud on my bed, followed by another one as Saliyah sends in Dewey and Monkey Man to help. Clutching them, I eventually drift back to sleep.

  ‘Zahra, be careful,’ Nani calls up to me. She’s wearing a hot pink salwar kameez with orange trim, and there’s an orange ribbon woven through her long, gray braid. She’s even wearing eyeliner for the occasion.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say, plugging in the last string of Kali’s pat
io lanterns and looking down at Walnut Creek Park from my perch on the ladder. The sun is just rising on this cool mid-October morning, and all around us people are setting up booths for the Eid carnival. Beyond the carnival rides, I spot my grandfather’s plaid cap near the food stalls. These vendors were the first to set up, ready to sell breakfast to the rest of us as we get ready for the fair’s official opening at nine.

  I climb down the ladder and help Saliyah spread an enormous lime-green-and-aqua cloth over the old plywood tables we’re using to display Mom’s products.

  ‘You can’t use that cloth,’ Nani says. ‘Sana, tell them. I shipped that from Pakistan. It will get dirty.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Mom says. ‘I said they could.’ Since Mom doesn’t have a table that seats thirty, the cloth has never been out of its packaging.

  My grandmother crosses her arms and looks up at the huge yasin valley body care banner that Syd painted for me. The Yasin Valley is a beautiful area in northern Pakistan that Mom and her family often visited when she was young. It’s lush and green and fed by glacial streams. Since her products bring to mind the fragrances of her youth, the name seemed to fit. She hugged me when she saw the sign, so I guess she agrees. Even Nani smiled, although now she’s frowning.

  ‘It’s crooked,’ she says. ‘Move the left side up.’

  I scoot back up the ladder to make the adjustment.

  ‘More,’ Nana chimes in, as he rejoins us, carrying containers full of halwa puri, a mixture of curries with chickpeas and potato.

  ‘Did you bring coffee?’ I ask, knowing the answer will be no. Coffee is too American for them. My grandparents are tea drinkers. Back on the ground, I take the paper cup of tea Nana offers. In a pinch, caffeine is caffeine.

  I open up one of the boxes we stacked near the table and start arranging Mom’s products.

  ‘Don’t stack those bags of bath salts so high,’ Nana says, around a mouthful of curry. ‘They could topple over.’

  ‘Zahra, you should eat,’ Nani says, adding mango-andonion pickle to her curry. ‘It’s going to be a long day.’

  For once, my grandmother and I actually agree.

  Our booth has been buzzing with a steady stream of people for the last three hours. Saliyah and Nana got bored pretty fast, so Nani took them to get a drink at one of the tea booths.

  ‘What’s bothering you?’ Mom asks, during a lull. Her intuition is going full bore lately, and I bet she’s been waiting to strike. ‘You haven’t been yourself lately.’

  ‘The usual,’ I say as she restocks the shampoos. ‘I hate my teachers, I hate guys. I hate Dad’s apartment. I hate that you’re split. I hate that Nani and Nana have taken over our life.’ I consider adding group to the list, but I actually enjoy it now, thanks to Kali and Syd and Lauren. Ganging up on Simon and Evan is becoming a highlight of my week. On the other hand, if I don’t mention it, it’ll look suspicious. ‘Plus I hate group. How’s that for starters?’

  ‘Anything going right?’ she asks, changing tactics.

  I pass her the last box of lip balm. ‘Just this.’ It’s turned out to be a beautiful day, and people are snapping up Mom’s products.

  I wish I could tell her about my session with Sinead and Leo, and how it left me feeling both elated and sad. They seemed like nice people who truly cared about each other. I don’t understand why they had to cheapen it in the end with cheating.

  ‘Did you ever cheat on Dad?’ I ask, when I’m sure no one can overhear us.

  Mom drops the box of lip balm, and small tubs scatter on the grass. ‘Zahra!’

  ‘I’m not naïve. I know these things happen.’ Unfortunately, I know it from personal experience.

  ‘I did not cheat on your father, and he did not cheat on me – at least as far as I know.’ She stoops to collect the lip balm. ‘Where’s all this coming from?’

  ‘I’m trying to figure things out. You were together twenty years, and nobody cheated, but it didn’t work. Is it because Nani and Nana hate dad?’

  ‘If that were true, we’d have split when they found out about him. Nana flew over here and tried to take me home, you know. He got your aunt Farah to talk her way into my dorm and pack up all my things.’

  I wait while Mom makes change for a guy buying up the last of her shaving cream. This is the most she’s ever said about that time in her life.

  ‘What happened then?’ I press, when the customer leaves.

  ‘I refused to go with them. In fact, I locked myself in a bathroom and called the campus police.’ She frowns, and then laughs. ‘You should have seen Nana’s face when the cops came. He was mortified.’

  ‘Did they arrest him?’ I ask hopefully.

  ‘Of course not. But they escorted him off college property, and that was humiliating enough. He never came back.’

  I sell four bottles of conditioner to two girls my age.

  ‘And then he and Nani didn’t speak to you for years?’

  ‘They cut me off for a while. Your aunt Farah came around once she got to know your dad. And then Nani cracked when you were born. She sent that garnet set.’

  At this, we both laugh. Over the years, Nani has sent me several ‘sets’ – a necklace, ring, and earrings – and each has been worse than the last. She must work hard to find jewelry that ugly. I’ve seen photos of my cousins in Pakistan, who clearly got the nice family heirlooms. I guess she doesn’t want the quality gold to be tarnished by my Scottish blood. It’s not like I want her stupid relics, but it hurts to be second best.

  The booth is quiet for a minute, and I stare down at the last few bags of bath salts as I work up the nerve to ask the question that preys on my mind. I’ve asked before, but sensed she hasn’t given me a straight answer. Maybe she will today. ‘They’re trying to get you to go back to Karachi, aren’t they?’

  I expect her to lie, but she says, ‘They’d like that. It’s normal to want your family around you as you get older.’

  ‘Are you considering it?’ I ask, trying not to panic. I may be running my own life now, but it’s good to have backup.

  A new crowd of customers swarms our booth. While they’re busy trying the testers, Mom reaches out and squeezes my hand. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she says. ‘I don’t think I could live in Karachi anymore. But I do miss my family, my culture. When Aunt Farah moved back there, I gave up my ties to the community here in Austin.’

  ‘Maybe you can start making new ones today,’ I say, getting down on my hands and knees to get the last carton of stock from under the table. ‘Look around. How does it feel to be the hottest ticket at the carnival?’

  ‘It feels pretty good,’ a male voice says. ‘Thanks for asking.’

  I peer over the table and find Riaz Dar grinning at me. He’s wearing dark aviator-style sunglasses, but there’s no mistaking the dimple in his chin.

  ‘You might want to lower your voice, though,’ he adds, ‘unless you want everyone to know you’re into me.’

  Since Mom is busy serving someone, I say, ‘Thanks for the tip. To be on the safe side, I’ll ignore you instead.’

  ‘What kind of customer service is that?’ he asks, rolling up the sleeves of a fitted powder-blue–and-white-striped Hollister shirt that tops distressed William Rast jeans. ‘I’m here to buy some shaving cream.’

  ‘We’re sold out,’ I say, tossing him the order book. ‘Write down your contact information if you’re interested.’

  Riaz pushes up his sunglasses to reveal his stunning hazel eyes. ‘Some people will go to any length to get my number,’ he announces to three junior high school girls who are testing the lip balms.

  The girls giggle, and he continues to flirt with them as I make change for a woman who’s buying six bars of soap.

  ‘I’m afraid you beautiful ladies will have to excuse me,’ Riaz says, when a text message interrupts the fun. ‘Official carnival business.’

  ‘I heard the portable potties are overflowing,’ I tell his fans as he disappears into the crowd.

/>   Undeterred, one of his young fans asks, ‘Which lip balm do you think Riaz would like better? Citrus Kiss or Papaya Pucker?’

  ‘You know him?’ I ask, surprised.

  ‘Sure, everyone at the mosque knows him,’ she replies.

  ‘Go for the citrus, but be careful: he had a wicked cold sore last week.’

  When they leave, Mom comes over to tell me that someone is buying up the last of our stock and we’ve officially run out of merchandise. Still, people continue to use the testers and place orders. I pencil in requests from Kali, Glennis, Syd, and even Dieter.

  ‘I should make you my manager,’ Mom jokes.

  I pull an envelope out of my bag that holds brochures on commerce courses and business start-up loans. ‘After today, you might finally believe it’s time to go pro.’

  ‘When did my daughter become such a go-getter?’ she asks, putting her arm around me. ‘Maybe you’re the one who should be launching a business.’

  I just smile. Love, Inc.’s chief commandment: What happens in the trailer stays in the trailer.

  Saliyah bursts into our booth wearing a new salwar kameez in teal with golden thread.

  ‘It looks good on you,’ I say. With Mom’s promise not to take off for Pakistan, I can afford to scale back my defenses.

  ‘Come on, I’ll show you where I got it,’ Saliyah says, tugging my arm.

  ‘Go ahead,’ Mom says. ‘If you see anything you like, it’s my treat. It’s the least I can do after all your help today.’

  Saliyah leads me to a booth filled with silk clothing in a rainbow of colors. With the saleswoman’s help, I pick out a deep blue tunic and pull it on over my tank top. The saleswoman and Saliyah rave over it as I stand in front of the mirror. The fit is flattering and the color works, but I’m still on the fence about wearing something so traditional.

  A sudden movement in the mirror catches my eye. Nani has sensed a cultural window and has swooped in to exploit it.

  ‘Khoobsurat,’ she says. That means beautiful in Urdu. ‘But it needs a little something.’ She removes her earrings and hands them to me. ‘Put these on.’

  Nani wears these earrings all the time, and unlike the ones she’s given me in the past, these are gorgeous. Each has three pearls strung on gold wire, and in between, tiny red-gold beads vibrate and twinkle with the slightest movement.