“I don’t know where he is. Last time I saw him was in San Francisco.”
His eyes went a little wide. “You’ve been to California?”
“I’ve been lots of places.”
“I’ve never left town. What’s that like?”
“It’s fine. There is nothing beautiful in the world, no matter where you go.”
Now he really didn’t know what to say to me. His hand twitched, and he was itching, I’m sure, to google for help, but he held off. He looked at me as if he had something to say, but then glanced away, like something unexpected had caught his attention.
“Look,” he said. “It’s snowing.”
Then, as if he’d never seen it happen before even though it happened here all the time, he grinned, as more and more water crystals fell upon us from the sky. They sparkled in the streetlight.
“Isn’t it lovely?” Henry asked.
It was.
I could still remember what Anvar had said once, that even though snow was pure when it fell, its short life on the earth made it dirty and gross. He’d been right, in a way, but he’d also been wrong. I saw that in Henry’s shy, hopeful, silly, joyous smile as he held out his arms, and looked up at heaven.
Maybe I’d been wrong too. Maybe there was still beauty in the world. Maybe you just had to know when and where to find it.
Acknowledgments
As I begin to write the acknowledgments for this book, I cannot help but think about how the Quran asks, repeatedly, “Which of the blessings of your Lord will you deny?”
I do not deny any of them, but I am unable to count them all. The people who have helped make this book what it is are all blessings. They are also legion. It is inevitable that I will fail to name everyone who deserves mention.
If you feel like you deserve to be on this list but do not find yourself here, know that you were not discounted. You were forgotten. I’m kidding! Seriously though, yes, you were forgotten, but just temporarily, and only because I am human. For that, I apologize.
When I first got edits back from Robert Bloom in the mail, I was convinced he was a magician. The manuscript looked like it had been cut in half. I realized, moments later, that it had simply been printed double-sided. As I read on, it became clear to me that I was dealing not with a magician but with an alchemist. For a writer, the latter is much, much better than the former. Rob, working with you has been the privilege of a lifetime. Thank you for making my words shine.
Melissa Edwards. Am I blinking away tears because I typed out my agent’s name just now? Yes, I am, and they are tears of gratitude. I don’t have the words to thank her. Melissa, you believed in this book before anyone else in the industry did. You believed in it even when I doubted it. You never gave up on it. I will never, ever forget that. Thank you for making this dream possible.
Speaking of gratitude, if I could take its soul and pour it into a pen (that sounded way sweeter and less grim-reapery in my head), I still wouldn’t be able to properly acknowledge the contribution my mentors, Marty Mayberry and Léonie Kelsall, have made to this book and to my growth as a writer. Yes, they made me rewrite the scene were Anvar and Zuha first meet around one thousand times, but I learned a ton. Seriously, Lee and Marty, I’m forever in awe of your generosity and wisdom. Thank you.
Thank you to the amazingly helpful Nora Grubb; to my production editor, Ellen Feldman; my copy editor, Susan Brown; and my proofreaders, Laura Starrett and Jane Elias. Thank you to Mike Collica. Thank you to John Pitts, for his incredible kindness, and to Bill Thomas and the entire Doubleday team.
I’d also like to especially thank Emily Mahon and Samya Arif for their brilliant work on the cover. Honestly, I had no idea what the right cover for this book would look like. Then I saw what you two had done and there it was. You’re amazing. Thank you.
Thank you, as always, to Madelyn Burt and Addison Duffy.
Thank you to Zach Watkins, for reading first and being so encouraging. Thank you, Brett Schuitema, for early help with word choice and sentence structure. And thank you, Chloe Moffett, you’re a genius. Thank you also, Anne Raven, Elizabeth Chatsworth and Robin Winzenread Fritz and the entire Pitch Wars Class of 2017. You guys are incredible.
A thank you to the artists, singers and poets of Pakistan, past and present. You never cease to inspire me. Keep bringing beauty into the world, for beauty begets beauty, and we are all better for it.
Thank you to Saad Ahmad. Dude, I love you. Thank you to Lendyl D’Souza for being there always. Thank you to Imam Kamran Islam for all the great conversations full of clarity and courage.
Thank you to my in-laws, particularly my parents-in-law, Sameera and Rashid Siddiqui, for being so unfailingly supportive.
Thank you to my mother, Hajra Masood, without whom I would have never learned to love books. Thank you to my father, Syed Manzar Masood, for always being with me, even though he isn’t with us anymore.
Thank you to my children, Muhammad and Maryam, for…actually, I’m just being nice. You guys didn’t do anything to help with this one. Even so, I love you. Grow up well and raise hell.
And to my wife, Saira Amena Siddiqui, for choosing to be the greatest blessing of my life. Your patience, encouragement and insight are everything, and I love you. It is a fact undeniable.
About the Author
Syed Masood grew up in Karachi, Pakistan. A first-generation immigrant twice over, he has been a citizen of three different countries and nine different cities. He currently lives in Sacramento, California, where he is a practicing attorney.
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The Bad Muslim Discount Page 39
