Innis Harbor

by Patricia Evans Cox

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s saffron and rosewater cookies,” Loch said. “I made them for your mother.”

  Amir looked at the beautiful antique dish with the glass top. The cookies were a perfect warm pink, and rose petals crusted with sugar had been scattered on the top. She leaned in and kissed Loch’s cheek as she spoke. “How in the world did you know how to make these?”

  “I didn’t,” she said. “When you dropped me off this morning, I did some research, then took the recipe to that restaurant in Bar Harbor and asked the ladies there what I needed. One of them gave me a little glass jar of homemade rosewater to use. But when I tried to pay, they wouldn’t let me.”

  “I’m sure they recognized you,” Amir said, taking her hand as they started toward her truck. “You’re kind of hard to forget.”

  “I don’t know.” Loch bit her lip as she thought back to the day Amir had taken her to the restaurant. “I’m not sure I even saw them there that day.”

  “Trust me,” Amir said, staring straight ahead as she started the truck. “They saw you.”

  When they arrived at the house, Amir took Loch’s hand as they opened the front door. The warm scent of red curry, onion, and plum chutney enveloped them as they stepped into the entryway, and Amir took Loch’s coat to hang on the wall.

  The home was immaculate, decorated with antiques and scattered collections of tiny glass bottles, intricately decorated with gold etchings. Pictures of Amir and Hamid crowded every available surface, and an old organ in the corner of the living room held a newer collection of photos of Hameen and Yasmin. Beautiful afghan rugs lined the hardwood floors, including a small but beautifully patterned one set apart directly under a window.

  “This one is so interesting,” Loch said, walking over to it to look closer. “The design reminds me of something. Why is it over here by itself?”

  “Muslims pray facing east, and this is a prayer rug,” Amir said, crouching down to trace the patterns with her finger. “The design shows you how to position your body for prayer. These squares here are where your knees should be, then your hands are here,” Amir said, pointing. “And the ornate part at the top indicates where your head would be during prayer.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Loch said. “I love it.”

  Hamid rounded the corner from the kitchen suddenly and handed Amir a beer. “It’s about time. I was beginning to think you just kept driving.”

  Amir looked over Hamid’s shoulder and dropped her voice. “Don’t think I didn’t consider it.”

  Hamid stepped past Amir to Loch, kissing both her cheeks in greeting. “I’m so glad you came. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, I’m fine at the moment.” She smiled as she said it and held out the dish of cookies. “But where should I put these?”

  Just then, a short, plump woman in a traditional Muslim headscarf came around the corner, wiping her hands on her apron and smiling before she stopped dead in her tracks.

  “Mom,” Amir said, taking Loch’s hand and stepping forward. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  Amir’s mother nodded, then disappeared back around the corner, mumbling under her breath about something in the oven. Anna appeared from the hall and took the dish of cookies from Loch.

  “Brace yourself, girl.” She squeezed Loch’s shoulder and headed toward the kitchen with the cookies. “This could be a rough ride.”

  Amir pulled her close and touched her forehead to Loch’s. “I’m so sorry. We don’t have to stay.”

  Loch shook her head and smiled. “Are you kidding? I’m used to being stared at. That’s nothing.”

  Hamid laughed. “You’re tougher than you look,” he said with a wink. “But that said, I’m still getting you a beer.”

  Suddenly, Yasmin was tugging on the back of Loch’s sweater.

  “She wants to show you her dollhouse,” Hamid said. “It’s in the living room. I think she loves it more than me.” He thought for a moment, glancing down at Yasmin and pausing for dramatic effect. “That might be because she told me she does.”

  Yasmin nodded in agreement and took Loch’s hand, pulling her over to her dollhouse set up in the back of the living room.

  “Jesus Christ, man.” Amir rubbed the back of her neck with her hand when she was sure they were out of earshot and looked toward the kitchen. “We’re barely past the front door. What was that all about?”

  “They’ve both been acting weird since we got here. Dad’s been upstairs on the phone most of the time.” Hamid glanced up at the staircase. “Something’s up with him.”

  “Great.” Amir followed him down the hall to the kitchen. “That’s all I need tonight.”

  The kitchen was empty when they turned the corner, and a pan of basmati rice was starting to smoke on the back burner. Amir pulled it off the burner and looked around.

  “Where did Mom go?”

  Hamid looked toward the stairs. “One guess.”

  She slumped against the counter and closed her eyes, taking a breath and letting it out slowly.

  “Look,” Hamid said, opening the fridge and perusing the contents. “Loch’s a great girl, they’re just going to have to get over it.”

  “I don’t remember you bringing Anna home.” Amir took a long swig of her beer. “What was that like?”

  “It was okay, but only because they didn’t know she was pregnant.” He looked over at her and grinned. “Which I’m assuming isn’t the case with Loch.”

  Amir half laughed, half choked on her beer as her mother walked back into the kitchen. She glanced at both of them and turned on both the taps full blast, turning away from them and reaching for the rice pan.

  “Mom, I’m sorry,” Amir said after a moment, her hand warm against her mother’s arm. “I should have told you I was bringing someone.”

  Her mother busied herself with scraping the burned rice into the garbage disposal and said nothing.

  “But,” Amir said, looking over at Hamid who nodded in encouragement. “Please try to be nice. I really like this girl.”

  Their mother stopped suddenly and stared at them, the pan of scorched rice still in her hand. “What is it with you two and the white girls?”

  “Mom!”

  Amir and Hamid said it together, followed by Hamid peering around the corner to make sure Anna was out of earshot.

  “What? Is it wrong that I want at least one of my children to have a traditional Muslim family?”

  “Mom, seriously, I can’t believe you just said that. What’s wrong with you?” Hamid leaned over and plucked an olive off the top of one of the dishes. “You know this family has never been ‘traditional Muslim’ or whatever that means. I can’t remember the last time we went to the mosque. And didn’t that dream fly out the window anyway when super butch here came home with that mohawk in eighth grade?”

  “Look at you using the new word we taught you.” Amir gave his arm a playful shove. “Although if you ever refer to me as ‘super butch’ again, I’ll smack you.”

  Hamid rolled his eyes and put his arm around his mom, pulling her into a reluctant hug. “Besides, Anna adores you, and I happen to know you feel the same about her.”

  The smile she didn’t manage to hide made it clear he was right.

  “And you don’t know her yet, but that girl out there is one of the nicest people I’ve met in a long time.”

  Mrs. Farzaneh looked at Amir, then back at Hamid.

  “It’s just…” Her mother paused, searching for the right words.

  Amir and Hamid tipped their heads in the same direction, waiting.

  “Well,” she said finally. “You have to admit she’s unusually tall.”

  A smile swept slowly across Amir’s face. “Seriously, Mom?”

  She turned to look at Hamid, who was already laughing, and then even their mother was giggling so hard that she finally wiped a tear from her cheek and glanced toward the door.

  “Shh,” she said. “They’ll hea
r us.”

  “So, that’s really all you’ve got?” Hamid said, not even trying to keep a straight face. “That she’s too tall?”

  Their mother swatted at them with a kitchen towel and pointed toward the living room, shaking her head and smiling as she poured new rice into the pan to simmer.

  They walked back into the living room just as Mr. Farzaneh was coming down the stairs, his gaze coldly fixed on Loch.

  “Here we go,” Hamid whispered, squeezing Amir’s elbow.

  “Dad,” Amir said, clearing her throat and taking Loch’s hand. “I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Loch Battersby.”

  Her father stopped at the base of the stairs. The grandfather clock behind to the side of him ticked, the seconds stretching heavy and silent across the room. He finally opened his mouth to speak just as the doorbell rang at a ridiculous volume, and Loch let out a soft breath as he left the room to answer it.

  “Well,” Hamid said, still staring in the direction of his father. “This takes awkward to a whole new level.”

  Amir looked over at him and drank the last of her beer. “At least he knows now. That was the hard part. It can’t get any worse now.”

  Just then, Amir’s father rounded the corner and walked back into the living room accompanied by a nervous-looking young man carrying flowers. His hair was slicked back in a shiny black wave against his head, and he scraped one damp palm against his pants leg as Mr. Farzaneh took his coat and went to hang it in the hall closet.

  Hamid looked at Amir. “Apparently, it can.”

  As her father walked back into the room, Amir leaned closer to Hamid and whispered words so taut they shot across the room. “Hamid, please tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

  “No can do, sis.” He looked the visitor up and down. “This is exactly what it looks like.”

  “Amira,” her father said as he gestured toward the nervous man standing beside him. “This is Zayan Azzi, and he’ll be joining us for dinner this evening.” He looked briefly at Loch, then fixed his gaze back on his daughter. “I invited him here to meet you.”

  The man stepped forward and awkwardly offered the flowers to Amir. She took them but kept her gaze locked on her father.

  Anna excused herself to check on the children, both of whom were playing with the dollhouse across the room, and gestured for Loch to follow.

  Outside, Anna led Loch to the end of the front porch where she tugged two chairs together and set her beer on the porch railing in front of them. They sat silent for a minute until Loch finally spoke, shock still frozen on her face.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “That,” Anna said, “was watching a car skid into a brick wall in slow motion. Or as Mr. Farzaneh likes to refer to it, matchmaking.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Unfortunately not.” She shook her head and glanced back at the door. “I’ve heard him mention it a few times in the past, but he knows Amir is gay. It never occurred to me he’d actually do it.”

  “Why now?”

  “My guess is he heard Amir met someone. It’s a pretty small town, and when you’re part of the Muslim community between here and Bar Harbor, it gets smaller by the minute.”

  “Do you think Amir is okay?” Loch glanced back toward the door. “Maybe I should go back in there.”

  “God no,” Anna said, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. “She’s more pissed off than I’ve ever seen her, so if you go back in there and he says something disrespectful to you, it may tip her over the edge.”

  “So, what was he expecting?” Loch leaned back in her chair and ran her hand through her hair. “That his obviously gay daughter would suddenly do a one-eighty and marry a dude?”

  “In a word, yes.” Anna looked at Loch and paused before she went on. “I’m not saying arranged marriage never works. The Farzanehs were married the day after they met, and they’ve always been happy. But obviously, it’s not the right choice for Amir.”

  Anna tapped her fingertips on the armrest of the chair, glancing at the door as if she was afraid of who might come out next.

  “He and Amir were so close before she came out. After that, they were still cordial, but it changed everything between them.”

  “What did he say about it?”

  “That’s the thing,” Anna said. “He never said a word. He just pretended she never said it. It was like he only loved her if that part of her didn’t exist.”

  “Wow,” Loch said, nervously peeling the label from her bottle. “That must have been awful.”

  “It was. She wouldn’t even talk to Hamid about it, and they’ve always been close.”

  Hamid stepped out onto the porch and let the screen door slam shut behind him, which made Loch and Anna jump. He looked straight ahead, the muscles in his jaw visibly tense.

  “What’s going on in there?” Anna asked, her voice just above a whisper.

  Hamid just shook his head. After a moment, he looked over at them, his voice low and taut. “Loch, I’m sorry, this is my fault. He knew you were coming over because I told him yesterday. I thought giving him a heads-up might make things easier.”

  “Did your mom know this was going to happen?” Anna’s words were still a whisper.

  “No.” Hamid shook his head. “I asked her before I came out here. She had no idea.”

  “Then this must be so hard for her.” Loch looked again at the door. “This is not even close to your fault, Hamid. But how is Amir?”

  Hamid looked over to Loch, his face softening for the first time. “She’s pissed, but she’s dealing with it.”

  “Guys, don’t worry about it. I was half expecting this anyway.” Loch pushed away the lock of silver hair the breeze had brushed across her eyes. “Of course he doesn’t like me. Amir was so nervous on the way over here, I figured it wasn’t going to be easy.”

  Anna dropped her voice to a whisper and glanced over at Loch. “What does he know about her?”

  “You mean does he know she’s a model?”

  Anna nodded.

  “Nope,” Hamid said. “I thought I’d save that one for later in case we got bored.”

  Loch laughed as Mrs. Farzaneh opened the door, bringing a warm waft of jeweled rice with her.

  “Dinner is on the table,” she said, glancing down the hall behind her before she spoke. “And, Hamid, please try to be patient with your father.”

  “You’re kidding me,” Hamid said, looking past her into the house. “That guy is staying for dinner?”

  She shot him a look as she disappeared back into the house.

  As they followed her into the dining room, Amir motioned for Loch to sit in the chair next to her and leaned close. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

  “I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Loch glanced across the table at the young man deep in conversation with Amir’s father. “But it takes a lot more than this to rattle me, I promise.”

  Amir smiled as she squeezed Loch’s hand under the table and took the dish her mother handed her, passing it to Loch when she’d finished.

  “So, Zayan,” Mrs. Farzaneh said, finally breaking the silence when it was clear no one else was going to do it. “What is it that you do?”

  “I’m an accountant. I work at my father’s firm in Bar Harbor.”

  Silence settled back into place, and the only sound in the room was the clink of cutlery against the plates, until Hameen held his fork in the air and waved it.

  “Hameen,” Anna whispered, taking the fork from his hand and placing it back on his plate. “Please remember the manners we talked about this morning.”

  He looked around at the other adults. “They aren’t doing manners.” He raised his eyebrows, as if his point was obvious. “They’re not even saying nothing.”

  Zayan choked on the water he’d been drinking and put the glass down, the beginnings of a smile forming against his will.

  “Little man has a point,” Hamid said, glancing at h
is father.

  Mrs. Farzaneh looked at Loch, clearly determined to start a conversation. Any conversation. “I’m sorry, I had to run back into the kitchen and didn’t catch your name when we met before dinner.”

  “My name is Loch,” she said, meeting her gaze and smiling. “And I’m sure it’s hard to do anything else when you’re cooking a meal like this.”

  “Locks like on a door?” Hameen looked up from his plate, holding a piece of bread aloft. “My aunt Amira does locks.”

  This time, it was Anna trying to hold back a smile. Hamid didn’t even bother, clearly amused by the direction of the conversation.

  “It means ‘Lake’ in Scottish, right?” Zayan looked over at Loch, who smiled back and nodded.

  “You look so familiar to me.” Mrs. Farzaneh took in Loch’s face, studying her eyes. “Is your family from Innis Harbor?”

  “No, I’m from Manhattan, but my aunt lived here. She passed away recently, so I came to take care of things for her.”

  She looked into Loch’s eyes as she put down her napkin, then spoke as if she already knew the answer. “And what was your aunt’s name?”

  “Samia Battersby. She lived in the Cape Cod just up from the docks.”

  Mrs. Farzaneh sat back in her chair and looked pointedly at Amir’s father, who just shook his head, his gaze falling to the table and staying there.

  Amir looked at one of her parents and then the other. “What?”

  Her mother cleared her throat, still looking at her husband. “Do you remember that wreck I was in when you were ten?”

  Hamid and Amir nodded.

  “Yeah, you almost died,” Amir said. “The car in front of you hit black ice, and a bunch of cars plowed into yours from the back.”

  She nodded. “By the time I came to, my car was on fire. I couldn’t see anything but black smoke.”

  “And you were trapped somehow, right?” Hamid said.

  She nodded again, closing her eyes tight against the memory. “The seat belt latch was buried under the passenger dashboard, and I couldn’t get out of it.”

  “Wait,” Hamid said. “Didn’t one of the other drivers pull you out or something?”