Counting Down with You

by Tashie Bhuiyan

  This thing with Ace and me is so fragile that I’m afraid it’ll shatter in the face of its first obstacle. I have to find a way to make this work. I don’t know how, but I have to.

  I don’t know if I’m ready to lose this.

  28

  T-MINUS 16 DAYS

  Friday rolls around, and Ace and I find ourselves at Pietra’s Sweet Tooth, studying. He suddenly closes The Scarlet Letter with a loud thud that makes me jump in my seat. “Can we talk? Seriously?”

  “Uh. Yes?” My tongue feels like it’s glued to the roof of my mouth.

  Maybe my study guides aren’t working for him. I have a few different methods that we can try if that’s the problem. I can’t work on any of them tonight, because I have to go to my cousin Sana’s birthday party, but I can start this weekend.

  “Karina...” Ace sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “There’s—we’re so different.”

  My heart falls. I should’ve been expecting that. This is when he’s going to tell me all of this is a mistake. Everything we’ve done these last two weeks was for nothing. I knew it was coming. I knew he wouldn’t want anything to do with me after our study sessions, but I didn’t think he’d get tired of me this quickly.

  Maybe Dadu’s concern yesterday was the universe warning me.

  “I know,” I whisper. I don’t think I can speak any louder.

  “I don’t know how to say this,” Ace says, his expression troubled. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to. But I can’t sit here and just...not say anything anymore.”

  “Just say it,” I say, bracing myself for the blow, tightly gripping the edge of the table.

  “I didn’t realize until yesterday,” Ace says, toying with the rings on his fingers instead of looking at me. “I mean, I had an inkling but I didn’t realize the full extent of it.”

  “Ace, just say it.” I grit my teeth together and try to focus on the sunflower painting on the wall instead of Ace. “You don’t want to study together anymore.”

  “What?” Ace looks up in surprise. “No. No, Jesus Christ. I’d love to study with you forever.”

  The words feel like a balm against my skin but they leave behind a deeper itching. “So what’s the problem?”

  “You,” he says, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Your willingness to put everyone and everything above your own needs.”

  I nearly stop breathing. “What?”

  “Everything you do, you do because of other people. What do you do for yourself? Is there anything you do for yourself?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t do this, Karina,” he says, almost pleading. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You let your parents rule your life. You’re afraid to do anything that goes against their wishes.”

  I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood in my mouth. “They’re my parents, Ace.”

  “Yeah, and you’re their child. Not their prisoner. You don’t have to do everything they say. You’re allowed to do things for yourself.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s not that easy,” I say. I can’t believe how many times I’ve been forced to have this conversation this week. “They’re the reason I’m here. They’ve done so much for me. I can’t—I can’t just throw that back in their faces.”

  “You don’t owe them your life in payment, though,” Ace says, leaning forward in his seat. “You shouldn’t live your life for other people. You deserve to live for yourself.”

  His expression is so earnest, yet I can’t help but think how naive his outlook is.

  “That’s an extremely privileged way to look at things,” I say slowly, willing him to listen to me. “Our worlds are different, Ace. In mine, I can’t just do things because I want to. I can’t let my parents down.”

  He sighs, holding his head in his hands. “Karina, I don’t understand. What about what you want? Doesn’t it matter?”

  I swallow past the bitterness coating my throat. I believe that he doesn’t understand. I believe that he genuinely wants to help. I think the only way to explain this to him is to turn it around. “Why were you ignoring your family yesterday?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” he asks, gazing at me through his fingers.

  “Just answer the question.”

  “After I cut class yesterday, the school called my dad to see if I had a piano competition I forgot to mention. My family was just asking where I went. It’s not a big deal.”

  “But it bothers you,” I say. The answer is written clearly across his face, from the deep frown and the small indent between his thick brows. “So it is a big deal. It bothers you, because you care what they think of you. They’re your family.”

  “But I would never let them rule my life, Karina. That’s the difference.”

  “Is it?” I ask. “You said we’re different. We are. But we’re also the same. You know why? Because you do let your parents rule your life. Why aren’t you going to college, Ace? Why won’t you apply to Yale?”

  Ace blinks at me, taken aback. “That has nothing to do with—”

  “Yes, it does,” I interrupt. “Because you’re doing it to make a point to your dad and brother. Tell me I’m wrong. Look me in the eye and tell me.”

  Ace doesn’t say anything.

  “I’m right,” I deduce, although I hate that I am. I hate the thought that Ace is throwing away his future. “What’s the difference then, Ace? I’m pursuing medicine because of my family. You’re refusing to apply to college because of yours. Both of our actions are because of our parents.”

  “It’s not the same, Karina.”

  “How is it different?”

  The tension between us is so thick even a knife couldn’t cut through it. Ace is staring at me, his eyes a turbulent sea, but he doesn’t say anything. I don’t think he has an answer. I don’t think anyone has ever said this to his face before.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, conceding defeat first. My shoulders slump and I avert my gaze.

  “What did I say about saying sorry?” Ace asks. His voice isn’t cold; it’s as familiar as it’s always been.

  I chance a glance up, and he’s watching me tiredly, as if he doesn’t know what else to say.

  “I need you to understand this isn’t something you can fix for me, Ace,” I say softly. It’s the most honest I’ve ever been with anyone about this. “I’m not a princess waiting for a knight in shining armor to save me.”

  “I understand,” he says, his shoulders slumping. “But I wish there was something I could do.”

  A wry smile breaks across my face. “I don’t think there is anything you can do. We have different ways of approaching our issues. I can’t begin to imagine living a life where I’m purposely pissing off my parents. I don’t know how you do it.”

  Ace shakes his head. “And I can’t imagine living by my parents’ rules.”

  “I don’t know where that leaves us,” I say after a moment, the words quiet.

  He runs his hands through his hair again before he stands up. My face falls. He’s leaving.

  But then, strangely enough, Ace holds out a hand to me. “Do you trust me?”

  I stare at the offered hand, a mix of exhilarated and nervous. “This isn’t Aladdin.”

  “It’s not,” he says. “But do you trust me?”

  There’s only one answer. I take his hand. “Yes.”

  “Then come on. I’m going to show you the world.”

  * * *

  He takes us back to school. It’s only a quarter past four, so it’s still open for students to enter. We just have to swipe our ID cards before we’re allowed inside.

  “I have to leave in half an hour,” I remind him as he leads us up the staircase. I have to get ready for Sana’s birthday party soon, but we have a cushion of time b
efore then.

  “It’s this way,” he says, squeezing my hand.

  When we reach the top floor, he crosses a hallway and stops in front of a locked door. When he takes out a lock pick set, I gape at him. “Why do you have that?”

  “I forget my keys sometimes,” he says, but he’s smirking. “And my dad doesn’t believe in spares.”

  “You forget your keys but not your lock pick set?”

  “Hey, you’re the one who kept insisting I was a bad boy.”

  I splutter. “There are cameras, Ace.”

  “Then you’d better hide me from view,” he says, his smirk widening into a full-blown grin.

  I reluctantly move forward, shielding his hands from the camera in the upper left corner of the hallway.

  The lock clicks, and Ace pushes the door open. “Come on.”

  “Where are we even going?” I ask, squinting into the darkness. “Won’t we get caught?”

  “We’ll just say someone left the door unlocked,” Ace says, and I hear the laughter in his voice. “Give me a second and I’ll show you why we’re here.”

  He hits a switch, and small lights flicker into existence. He looks at me with bright eyes. “Welcome to the planetarium.”

  I gaze around in wonder, reaching out to brush a hand along the walls. I’ve never taken an astronomy class, so I haven’t seen this room in all its glory. Constellations cover the dark walls, interspersed with planets and burning suns. “Why are we here?”

  “It’s my favorite place,” Ace says. “It helps me when I feel like I’m going out of my head. I’ll sit here for a while and remember we’re just a small speck in the universe. My failures and worries are infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things.”

  “Infinitesimal,” I repeat. “Big word.”

  Ace smiles at me, only faintly visible in the low lighting. “Maybe your tutoring is working.”

  “Maybe,” I say, still looking around. “You really love space, huh?”

  “Yeah.” He sits down on the ground and pats the spot next to him. “C’mere.”

  I take a seat and continue staring up at the constellations. I’ve never spent much time looking at the stars, but there’s something comforting about them.

  “I love my father,” Ace says quietly, surprising me. I glance to the side and notice he’s still staring at the ceiling, so I follow suit. Maybe this is a conversation best said without prying eyes. “But he doesn’t love me the way he loves Xander. Not since my mom left, anyway. I tried so hard at first, but nothing I do ever lives up to what my brother has already done. I’m tired of trying.”

  Am I supposed to comfort him or offer my own story? I don’t know, but I can’t let his honesty pass by silently.

  “I have a brother, too,” I say, the words rising unexpectedly. “I told you about him. Samir. Did you know he built his first robot when he was four? My parents still talk about it. Now he’s on our school’s robotics team. I...barely understand science or math. I put in so much effort to get good grades in those classes, but even then, I just barely scrape average. He has to help me sometimes.”

  Ace pulls out his phone. When he offers me an earphone, I take it without question. A soft instrumental song plays as the stars move around us.

  He breaks the silence.

  “I don’t want to go to Yale,” he says, voice hollow. “I want to go to NYU for piano performance.”

  I pause, my heart heavy. It’s almost painful to keep my gaze focused on the ceiling when I want nothing more than to look at his face. “You’ve never said anything before.”

  Ace laughs but the sound is choked. “It just seems...so useless. I’ll always be second to Xander. He’ll take over dad’s business with his Yale degree someday, and I’m going to be left in the dust. What’s the point?”

  I reach out, intertwining our fingers. “This is why you practice the piano three hours a day,” I say, understanding dawning. “Why you take lessons. Why you miss school for competitions all over the world. Ace, it’s obvious this means so much to you. Have you...” I pause, realizing the hypocrisy in my next words. Have you considered telling the truth? My shoulders suddenly feel as if they’re carrying the weight of all the planets around us. “Does anyone know?”

  He exhales quietly. “My dad might pay for the lessons, but I don’t think he pays enough attention to realize it’s more than a hobby for me. Ever since my mom left—” He cuts off, the words choked. I squeeze his hand again until he gains a hold of himself. “The piano is the one thing that still connects us. She’s a world away, and I’m here, but our love for music—it’s constant. It will never go away. It’s how I keep her with me. She’s the one who flies me out for international competitions, meeting me halfway. It’s our thing. Whenever I play, it’s like she’s still with me.” He shudders and I press my shoulder against his. “I can’t imagine a future without the piano, but I don’t know if my dad or Xander will ever understand that.”

  I wish you’d tell them the truth. I wish you’d do what makes you happy. I try to say the words, but I can’t.

  How can I, when I’m in the same situation? I can’t tell him to apply to college any more than he can tell me to change my major.

  “So what are you going to do?” I ask softly.

  “I don’t know,” he says. In my peripheral vision, he ducks his head, staring at our joined hands. “All I know is that I don’t want to do what they want me to.”

  The silence folds around us and my eyes grow wet with all that’s left unsaid. “I don’t want to do what my family wants, either. I want to go to Columbia for English.” My voice cracks as I say, “I want so much, but I’m afraid I’ll never have it.”

  Ace sighs and offers me his other hand. I take it, and we sit in silence for the next ten minutes, his fingers tracing the lines in my palm. In the quiet, I can hear our hearts breaking.

  wishing wells are for those

  with fortunes much larger than I

  in my pocket, I hold a single gold coin

  in your pocket, you hold my heart

  I carry your dreams inside my ribs

  you carry mine between your hands

  we board a ship sailing for the stars

  hoping to wish on them instead

  but then the ocean demands a price

  and slowly, carefully, hopelessly,

  we sink alongside our anchor

  It’s only after those ten minutes that I remember it’s Friday. I turn to him in alarm, wiping my cheeks hastily. “I thought you had a family dinner?”

  “My dad’s out of town,” he says but gets to his feet, helping me up. His eyes gleam with unshed tears, and I pretend not to notice for both our sakes. “I should take you home, though. I’m sorry for bringing up...you know.”

  “Hey,” I say, brushing my fingers against his jaw. The touch is gentle, given without any expectations. “No saying sorry.”

  He rests his forehead against mine. “No saying sorry.”

  And though neither of us can heal the rift between us and our parents, between us and our dreams, I wonder if we can’t heal whatever is left. If we can’t heal together, at each other’s sides.

  29

  T-MINUS 16 DAYS

  I hate coming to community parties.

  They’re worse with my parents around, but they’re bad regardless. The problem isn’t my cousins—or at least, the problem isn’t a majority of my cousins—but rather the adults.

  There are dozens of brown aunties and uncles hovering over our heads, picking us apart with their eyes and turning us to dust with their words.

  The only solace is the relatives I actually like. My favorite cousin, Fatima, is sitting next to me tonight. We’re at some fancy restaurant in Queens that looks out on a glistening bay, which I’m pretty sure leads into the East River. The restaurant hosts over a hundred att
endees, and waiters dressed in blue walk around offering refreshments.

  Fatima is a junior in college. Despite the four-year gap between us, we’ve always banded together in favor of the horde of elementary kids running around. The only rough spot in our relationship is how uneasy I become when we talk about her academic interests. She’s majoring in biology, and I’m almost positive it wasn’t her choice.

  For a moment I consider asking her how it all went down, but I’d hate to recount any fight with my own parents, so I refrain.

  “So what’d you get Sana?” I ask instead, nudging a piece of butter chicken with my fork.

  Fatima sighs, resting her head on her hand. She seems uncomfortable tonight, continuously tugging on her heavy earrings. “What is there to get her? She already has everything she wants.”

  I grimace. She’s not wrong.

  Sana is every stereotypical brown parent’s dream come true. Since she was little, she’s always excitedly gone on and on about how she wants to be a doctor.

  Now, a freshman in college, she’s actually on that path.

  Admittedly, it doesn’t hurt that she’s fair-skinned, beautiful, and an only child. She plays by all her parents’ rules without complaint, and in return they dote on her endlessly.

  I can’t imagine a life abiding by my parents’ standards, but Sana is obviously more than happy to do it. I guess it helps that most of her goals and views align with theirs, unlike the rest of us.

  Out of respect and slight fear for myself, I avoid her outside of niceties. A lot of our relatives have suffered the consequences of befriending her; notably, my cousin Nabila, who confided in Sana that she was bisexual.

  Sana went to Nabila’s parents and outed her. To this day, I’m still horrified Sana valued her parents’ rules over her cousin’s safety.

  Nabila’s parents threw her out of the house—it’s rare for queer people in our community to be accepted with open arms, since it’s still illegal in Bangladesh—and none of us have heard from her since.