“If you say so.”
His lack of confidence irritates me and I roll my eyes.
“So what’s the plan again?” he asks, more seriously. “You don’t want me to come into the ER with you?” He’s staring at the busy waiting room. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, boss. There’re a lot of people in there, which means the ER beds are probably full. Full floor, more bodies. At least I can keep them off you so you can find Darya without any stalkers.”
I know he means well, but right now, I’m too nervous to have him trailing me. Especially if Darya refuses to speak to me. Not having an audience to witness her rejection, or at least one I’m friends with, sounds like the better plan than worrying about obsessed fans. Plus I have less of a chance of being noticed on my own. Big, scary bodyguards are tough to ignore. And they bring in the paparazzi. But, despite being the boss, everything security related is a damn negotiation with Travis, so I agree to let him hang out in the waiting room. Whatever. It’s pointless to put up a fight.
When we step inside, I keep my head low, hoping my outfit is enough to keep me incognito. I’m relieved when I see the same young woman from our previous visits at the reception desk. A friendly face may be more inclined to let me pass without twenty questions.
I step up to her window, and her eyes get round when she sees me.
“Mr. Castillo.”
“Hi.” I give her my best superstar smile. “I need to speak to Dr. Zameeni. Is she here?”
“Y-yes,” she stammers.
“Awesome. Would you mind letting me back?”
She hesitates, looking behind her as if she’s waiting for someone to show up to her rescue. Or to fire her on the spot if she even thinks of breaking the rules. When no one does, she returns her attention to me. “I’m not supposed to do that without making sure it’s okay with the doctor.”
I lean forward so I can see her name tag. “Please, Amber. I’d really appreciate it if you could help me out. I’d like to surprise her.”
She pauses for a few more moments while I continue to pretend I’m not shitting it right now. I have zero idea what my plan is, and I could really do without having Amber announce that I’m here. The potential embarrassment gets only worse when I think of Darya letting Amber deliver the blow of brushing me off in her place. Amber would definitely sell that exclusive to a tabloid. I just know it.
But to my surprise, she leans forward and lowers her voice. “Okay, but if anyone asks, it wasn’t me.” She gives me a sweet smile.
“Cross my heart.” I make an X across my chest before I head inside.
I don’t see Darya at first. Truth is, it’s kind of a relief. The nurse’s station is pretty empty and the ER is busy as hell, just as Travis predicted. I spot her friend Lindsey behind one of the computers.
“It’s now or never,” I mumble.
As soon as I take a step forward, Darya pops out of one of the rooms, and I freeze. I’m shocked by how thin and exhausted she looks in only a month. Did I do that to her? Even from here, I can see her sunken eyes and pale skin.
She bats at a stray curl, and the gesture is so familiar it makes my heart lurch. I want to run to her and wrap her in my arms, whisk her away somewhere, anywhere but here, and save her from what she’s dealing with. But I don’t even walk toward her. I can’t—too afraid my being here will only make things worse. Instead, I slink back into a corner of the ER out of sight, and watch her. Now who’s the stalker?
Trina comes out of another room and the three of them gather around Lindsey’s desk. I’m too far to hear what they’re saying, but her friends laugh. All Darya can muster up is a halfhearted smile. My chest tightens. Trina looks toward her and her expression changes into concern. She reaches out and rubs Darya’s back, leaning in closer as the three of them have a quiet conversation. I’m not sure how long I stand in the shadows soaking up the sight of her, but as Darya grabs another stack of charts, and the women disperse to different rooms, I know the moment is lost.
I tell myself that I’m respecting her wishes by not seeking her out. She was very clear she wanted nothing to do with me and she needed to focus on her family. What right do I have to come here, unannounced, and turn things upside down for her again? Haven’t I already done enough? Besides, what do I even have to say that she doesn’t already know?
But as I make my way back out to the waiting room, the regret gnawing at my gut grows. If I’m honest with myself, I was never going to make it to the nurse’s station. I was never going to talk to Darya. I chickened out before I even got into the ER.
“How did it go?” Travis is leaning against the waiting room wall. He steps into line with me as I pass him.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
I can feel his concern like a heavy weight but he doesn’t push further. He just opens the door to the SUV and lets me slide in. I’m relieved when there aren’t any paparazzi to greet us. Bizarre for sure, but appreciated.
I stare out of the window as we drive in silence, thinking about my wasted opportunity. Why was I being such a wuss? Why didn’t I just talk to her? Because I can’t stand to see her look at me with so much anger. Or even worse, I’m terrified of having her look at me with absolutely nothing in her eyes.
Chapter Forty-Two
Darya
I lean against the doorframe to Maman’s room and smile. Niloo’s propped on her elbows on the side of Maman’s bed, looking up at her as she wipes away tears of laughter. Maman is having an exceptionally good day, more energized than I’ve seen her in a long time. My sister is cracking up while Maman is running her fingers through Niloo’s thick, straight hair.
“Come join us.” Maman pats the empty space beside her when she sees me.
As I climb onto the bed, I try not to notice my mother’s tiny frame or think about how she’s mostly made of bones and collapsed muscles now. She throws her arm around me and I snuggle in close, enjoying the comfort of her warm body.
“What are you guys talking about?” I ask.
“Maman was just telling me old stories about Iran.”
“Oh, I love those. Tell us the one about how Mamanbozorg and Bababozorg met.”
Niloo climbs in on the other side and we sandwich Maman in between us. She’s squished but she doesn’t seem to mind.
“Mamanbozorg was only fourteen, and even though she was young, she was the prettiest girl in her neighborhood.”
I lean back and listen to my mom’s expert storytelling. It transports me to a younger time, when she’d read us Iranian bedtime stories in place of the popular American ones that our friends were listening to. Instead of Cinderella, we learned about Khaleh Sooskeh, the cockroach seeking a good husband. I guess they could have picked a more glamorous bug, but in the end, they were both searching for love.
“She could have married anyone she wanted,” Maman continues, “but one day, on her way home from the grocery store, after her mother had sent her with a long list of items, she dropped one of the bags onto the sidewalk. Frustrated and afraid of what her mother would say, she sat down and cried.”
“And then Bababozorg came to the rescue.” Niloo throws her arms up in triumph.
“Yes he did. Your grandfather says he heard her from his window and had to come out to see who it was.”
“He shows up and finds this beautiful damsel in distress and rescues her from her evil mother.”
“Stop it, Niloo, it isn’t some Disney romance.” I’m laughing as my sister beams at me.
“Well, it should be. They can call it Beauty and the Tailor’s Son.” She sparkles with delight.
“You know, that’s not that bad,” Maman says. “It’s about time Disney puts an Iranian girl in their stories.” I can tell Maman’s really thinking about the possibility of an animated Persian girl princess, and it’s adorable.
“Can you imagine?” Niloo replie
s. She leans back on the pillows, staring up at the ceiling dreamily. “Maybe I’ll write a book someday about Grandma and Grandpa’s love story.”
Maman leans over and kisses her head. “You should, azizam. That would make me so happy.”
Dread fills me when I think about how Maman won’t be around to see it if Niloo does. It’s as if she can read my mind, because she leans over and kisses my forehead.
“None of that,” she whispers. “Man hamishe ba to hastam.”
Will she always be with me? Even after she’s no longer here? How does she know that with such conviction? But as she looks at me, full of love and confidence, I decide I’m going to try to find some faith, too, because the alternative hurts too much to think about.
We spend the next two hours lying in bed, side by side, listening to Maman tell us one story after the other from her memories. At one point, Niloo pulls out a notebook and starts jotting things down as “research” for her big novel debut. But really, I know she’s trying to remember them forever, just like I am. For the first time in a long time, things feel normal. It’s the three of us, like it has always been.
Suddenly, Maman gets somber. “I’ve had a lot of time to think these past few months,” she starts. “I’ve realized I missed out on a lot of things I wish I’d done.”
“Like what?” I ask.
“I wish we could have traveled more. I wanted to see the world with the two of you. And I wish I’d gone back to school and gotten a degree in something, made a name for myself.” She looks between my sister and me, and a mischievous grin finds her lips. “And I wish I would have dated a lot of men.” She seems so young and innocent in this moment that it warms me with happiness.
“It’s not too late,” Niloo insists. She wags her eyebrows. Maman blushes.
“What would you do with these men?” I tease.
“Ack. You two are silly.” She swats at me and the three of us burst into laughter. “No, but seriously, I don’t want you to get old and regret missing out on anything. So I need you to make me a promise.” She grabs both our hands and pulls them to her chest. Despite the playful nature of the afternoon, I can feel the weight of the words to come. “Promise me you’ll both be happy. Whatever that means for you. I want the world for you both, but I’ve realized that maybe what I think is the world isn’t really what you need.”
Maman locks eyes with me and, in her unspoken words, I know she’s talking about Anthony. I’m sure a part of her is still afraid of what may happen, but I can tell that for once, she’s saying I should follow my heart.
“So be happy, eshgham,” she continues, kissing both our knuckles. “Don’t spend all your time working like I did. Travel and see the world for me. Have fun. Stay out too late and sleep in too long. And find that person who makes your heart skip a beat, who leaves you breathless with each hello and makes you miss him with each goodbye. But don’t you ever forget how strong you truly are and that you don’t need a man for anything. You’re both smart and beautiful. Don’t you ever forget that, okay?”
I can feel the joy and love emanating off my mother as she speaks to us. And even though this conversation isn’t meant to be sad, I can’t help but wonder how many future conversations there will be when I’ll wish she were here? And what will our lives look like when she’s not here to hold our hands through it all?
“And promise me you will always take care of each other. No one else comes first, okay? I want to know that you two will be all right when I’m not here to watch over you. Niloo, listen to Darya. She’s your older sister and will have to take my place. She’s smart and level-headed. She’s a good person to give you advice when you need it.” Niloo gives me a grim smile. “And Niloo, make sure your sister doesn’t waste her life away in the hospital. Force her to have a little fun now and then.” Maman smiles at me, and I push back the tears threatening to drown me.
The fear of losing her weighs my body down into the mattress. I want to hang on to the hope that there’s a miracle awaiting us, but all the signs tell me that we are way past that point. I return my head to my mom’s shoulder and wrap my arm around her, trying to stay in the moment. Because that’s all I have left.
Chapter Forty-Three
Anthony
“What do you plan on doing when we’re done here?” Travis takes a sip of his beer, scanning the brewery for fans and stalkers even though he’s not on the clock.
This is one of those rare times when he’s actually hanging out with us. And that’s only because I’ve forced him to take a break. But he’s not fooling anyone. It’s obvious he’s still on high alert. It must be exhausting to never stop.
“Probably go home. Mamá hasn’t seen us in weeks.”
“What he should do is go win Darya back,” Hugo interrupts.
“Yup.” Carlos clinks his soda against Hugo’s beer.
He’s a little pale and tired today, so I’m glad he’s being responsible and cutting back on the alcohol. He’s been doing much better since Darya left. Not because Steve is a superior doctor, or that he has some control over Carlos that Darya didn’t, but because I think he feels bad that I’m nursing a broken heart. He’s trying his best not to be an added stress.
I look down the rectangular table. “Anyone else have something to say about what I should be doing?”
Mateo throws his arms up in surrender as I wait for him to give me his two cents. But Emmanuel grunts from across the table. He’s the only one who knows that I’ve already tried. And failed. I glare at him, wanting to keep it that way. But he can’t resist, despite my silent warnings.
“They’re right, you know.”
I take a sip of my beer and shake my head, debating on slamming the bottle over Emmanuel’s very smug head.
“Don’t get mad,” Carlos says. “You know we’re all right.”
Fuck. Why can’t they just leave me alone? I stare down at Travis, waiting for him to make some sneaky comment about what happened last week, but he shrugs and goes back to his beer. Thank God. At least not everyone at this table is an asshole.
“What would be the point anyway?” I rub my temples, their intrusion giving me a headache. “She’s already told me she doesn’t want to be together.” And I did go see her.
“Because she needs you right now, compadre.”
I grunt my protest. They’re right, but I don’t want them to be.
Last time I spoke to Mike, he told me that Darya’s mom wasn’t doing well. Matter of fact, his exact words were, “She says any day now.” Mike’s heading to L.A. after our last show. Half of me is jealous that he gets to be with her, but the other half is grateful that she won’t be alone.
“But what if she doesn’t want me there?”
Carlos locks eyes with me from across the table. His expression is confident compared to how insecure I feel. “That’s not possible. I’ve seen her when she’s with you. What you guys have is real.”
“Most definitely,” Hugo adds.
“You should at least check in on her,” Mateo suggests. “Even if you’re not getting back together, you love her enough to help her through this, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then go be there for her. She needs you, even if she doesn’t know it.”
…
Later that night as I lay across my hotel bed, alone, I can feel Darya’s absence beside me like a missing limb. I know she’s gone, but I’m surprised each time I find her side empty. Every morning that she doesn’t wake me up by snuggling her nose in my neck or doesn’t throw me her thumbs-up after a sound check because she knows I’m nervous, feels like I’m stuck in a nightmare I can’t wake up from.
There’s a hole in my chest. It screams like a siren and doesn’t let me forget she’s gone.
How could I be so stupid? I should have minded my own business when she came on this tour, let her do her job and I do mine. I was
perfectly happy being alone. But no, I couldn’t let it be, could I? I had to get to know this mystery woman and then let myself fall in love with her. I feel like an idiot for losing my grip. Now I’m questioning every decision I’ve made. I’ve let Darya in, but I’ve got to get her out before I ruin everything.
I roll onto my side, ignoring the empty space. I want to block her out and pretend she never existed, to move on with my life. But I know my friends are right. She has an impossible loss to deal with. On top of that, she has this important career she can’t leave behind, and a little sister who will need her, especially after her mom is gone. I don’t blame her for not being able to handle this relationship right now.
I know she’d be there for me. If my mother were dying, she’d be with me the entire time, even if it would kill her to do it. All she’d care about is making sure I survived. Shouldn’t I do the same? I can’t save her from what’s about to happen, but I can try to help ease her pain.
I wrestle with my thoughts all night. By the time the sun rises above the city, I’m tired but much less confused. I love Darya. I need to be with her through this. No matter what it does to my heart, I will be the rock she needs, just like she became mine.
Chapter Forty-Four
Darya
The bedroom curtains flutter in the breeze, the window half open to help dissipate the stale, familiar stench of illness and antiseptic. I take in their lavender background, remembering that they weren’t Maman’s favorite when we decorated this room. But Niloo said they felt “peaceful,” and so she gave in. Will she hate that she died with them in the background?
When we hired the home health hospice nurse, she’d recommended we keep Maman downstairs, making it easier for all of us to keep an eye on her. Niloo and I tried our best to fill the shelves with photographs and mementos, but the oversize machines and medical equipment still made it too similar to a hospital room, and Maman never quite settled in.
Maman mumbles incoherently under her breath, pushing thoughts of bedrooms and décor out of my mind. I can’t breathe as Niloo leans down closer to try to decipher what she’s saying. When she comes up empty, her tear-streaked face searches mine for comfort. I have none to give. What do you say when you’re losing your mother? When you’re left trying to figure out how to go on without her? All I can do is attempt a smile that refuses to find my lips.
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