Counting Down with You

by Tashie Bhuiyan

  This explains what Fatima wanted to talk to Dadu about. I sigh internally, knowing even Dadu can’t ward off the contempt radiating from Fatima’s parents.

  “Now she has to stay in her undergrad for another year,” Mustafa Uncle says, rubbing his temples. “It’s horrible.”

  “I chose to stay in my undergrad for another year,” Fatima says, her voice sullen.

  A small part of me is jealous of Fatima for pursuing what she wants, which is probably a bad thing. No, it’s definitely a bad thing, because her parents look like they’re one word away from dragging her outside and screaming at her.

  “It’s embarrassing, Fatima,” Mustafa Uncle says, shaking his head. “You should have finished your biology degree. Now med school is going to be postponed.”

  If I tell my parents I want to pursue English, they’re going to look at me the way Fatima’s parents are looking at her right now. They’ll never be able to forgive me, much less speak to me again. My heart constricts at the thought.

  Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.

  As discreetly as possible, I reach toward the center table and open one of the drawers, pulling out a candle and lighter. Within seconds, the scent of lavender fills the room, and my muscles relax infinitesimally.

  “This isn’t the place for this, Mustafa,” Dadu says, giving her eldest son a hard look before turning a warmer gaze toward Fatima. “I’m very excited for you, dear. You’re going to do amazing. Mashallah.”

  Fatima’s expression lightens, and I’m glad to see it. As always, Dadu is ready to stand between us and the world. “Thank you, Dadu.”

  I can’t help but wonder why her parents are like this. I wish I knew how all five of Dadu’s sons ended up being so harsh and strict when she’s always been anything but. At least in my case, I know it’s because of my maternal side, but everyone else is a mystery. I wonder if this is why Dadu feels like she’s failing us. Because somehow, despite her best efforts, her sons turned out into exactly what she tried to avoid.

  It’s easier for men, I guess. Traditional ways cater to them. But I would think—I would hope—being around Dadu would set them off those ways.

  And yet here sits my cousin, as miserable as me. And here sit her parents, as hell-bent on shaping her into something she’s not as my own.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I glance at it quickly. thinking of u. text me if u feel up to it.

  Ace’s words cause my heart to skip a beat. Lionheart, I think to myself, recalling the playlist that’s been on a loop in my head since yesterday.

  A burst of adrenaline rushes through me and I say, “I think it’s really cool, what you’re doing.”

  Fatima looks at me, eyes wide. I don’t think she expected me to say something. I wasn’t even expecting it. “Thank you, Myra.”

  I nod and try to ignore the way her parents are staring at me. Fatima looks relieved. Even if my words result in blowback, it’s okay if I helped her feel better.

  “And what have you been doing in school, Myra?” my aunt asks sharply. “Samir told us all about his robotics club. Are you in something similar?”

  I should have expected that. “I’m in Pre-Med Society,” I say, the words heavy on my tongue.

  “I see,” my aunt says before turning her gaze toward my brother. “Samir, won’t you tell us about your last competition? Your mom said you guys came in first.”

  “Of course, Pooja Auntie,” Samir says with a grin. “I actually have a competition tomorrow, too, but I’m not as worried as last time. I really thought we’d lose.”

  I roll my eyes. I remember his last competition. He didn’t look distressed. In fact, he looked as confident as ever.

  “Oh, don’t be silly, Samir,” Mustafa Uncle says, clapping him on the back. “You’re on the track to MIT at this rate. Making the whole family proud.”

  “I was actually thinking of CalTech,” my brother says, sudden affliction passing across his face. He chews on his bottom lip and asks, “Do you think Ma and Baba will let me go?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Pooja Auntie says, smiling widely. “You’re such a bright young boy. It’s nice to see someone in this family take initiative.”

  When she glances our way, I know she’s looking at Fatima, but I can’t help but feel like her dark gaze is aimed at me.

  “I’m proud of you,” I whisper to Fatima when her mother finally looks away.

  Fatima gives me a hug so tight that it’s almost difficult to breathe. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

  I squeeze back. “You’re so inspiring,” I say, low enough that it doesn’t reach past her ears. “Thank you.”

  Little things are starting to add up. Nandini and Cora’s encouragement. Ace’s kinship. Dadu’s support. Fatima’s bravery. I’m not alone.

  Hours later, after Fatima and her family leave, Dadu and I are cleaning up the dining room and she says, “What you said today was very kind.”

  I glance at her as I wipe down the glass table. “What did I say?”

  “To Fatima,” Dadu says, analyzing me. Her expression is more withdrawn than usual. “That you’re proud of her.”

  I bite my bottom lip. “She has so much courage.”

  Dadu sighs, looking down. “So do you, Myra,” she says. “I wish I could do more to help you kids. All of you have such big hopes and dreams and I want you to accomplish all of them. I’m starting to realize it’s not as easy as I thought.”

  I blink in surprise. “What do you mean, Dadu?”

  Dadu shakes her head gravely. “Our family. There’s so much wrong here. I wish I knew what to do.”

  For the first time, I’m at a loss when it comes to my grandmother. All my life, she’s been this confident, strong figure I’ve looked up to. I’ve never seen her this dejected before.

  I don’t know how to help.

  “You’re everything right with our family,” I say. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.

  “No, Myra.” Dadu smiles weakly. “You are. I can’t wait for the day you realize it, too.”

  36

  T-MINUS 11 DAYS

  Midland High has a different energy when school is out. It’s calmer, somehow. I didn’t expect to find myself here on the Wednesday of spring break, but when Samir knocked on my door this morning, asking if I was still coming to his robotics competition, I couldn’t bring myself to say no.

  Maybe it was because of the way he was fidgeting awkwardly in my doorway, or maybe it’s because I’ve never missed one of his competitions before. Even now, sitting in the bleachers, the thought of missing one leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

  The competitions are year-round, and this is the fourth one. Our school is hosting, and twelve different high schools have crammed into our gym. The judges are near the bleachers, handing out points for visuals, presentation, functionality, team spirit, and whatever else.

  My brother’s team is gunning for first place, trying to snag as many points as possible.

  In a minor act of defiance, I keep my earphones in and listen to Ace’s playlist on repeat instead of paying attention to the student commentator’s play-by-play of the competition on the overhead speakers. Dadu and I are squeezed between two families who are far too enthusiastic.

  I cringe away from the cheering mother on my left and hunch toward my grandma as she fiddles with her misbaha. The bleachers are far from comfortable, but Dadu isn’t complaining, so I won’t either. I distract myself by texting Nandini and Cora until Samir’s group comes forward.

  My brother is in his element, our school’s colors painted across his cheeks. He spends a third of his time controlling the robot, another third cheering on his teammates, and the last third discreetly looking at the bleachers. His gaze is focused far above me and Dadu, where a lone girl is sitting with a book in her lap, toying with a cross neckla
ce.

  I squint, trying to figure out why she looks familiar before it clicks. She’s one of the students that I used to tutor in English after school. What was her name...?

  Leah.

  I look back at my brother, but he’s paying attention to the competition again. I barely understand what he’s doing, but there’s a huge smile on his face.

  Something painful twists inside me. I wish I was that comfortable with my own passions.

  After a while it becomes hard to look at Samir’s beaming face, so I direct my attention back to my phone. As the minutes pass, I resist the urge to text Ace. It’s hard. Harder than it’s ever been to ignore someone’s texts.

  I miss him. A lot.

  Sitting in the bleachers gives me a lot of time to think. About who I am, who I want to be, and who I can be. The choices I want to make. The sacrifices those choices will require.

  My friends are right. I like Ace. Being around him makes me happy in ways I didn’t know I could be. I want more than three weeks, and I don’t want our relationship to be a pretense we put on for other people. I want it to be real.

  But no matter what, it’s something I’ll have to hide from my parents. They’ll never approve of him, no matter what I say, no matter what I do. It’s not a fight worth attempting, not because I don’t want to fight for Ace, but because it’ll be pointless. They’ll force me to stop seeing him, and I’ll lose their trust forever.

  But I want to be with him.

  I want to go prom with him, like any other teenage girl. I want to look across a dance floor and see him walking toward me, holding twin cups of punch. I want to slow dance with him under flickering lights, the sound of our heartbeats echoing in our ears. I want it all.

  I’m willing to lie to my parents and hide our relationship from them if that’s what it takes. I was afraid at first, but the longer I go without speaking to Ace, the more certain I am that this is something I don’t want to lose.

  Studying English is something I can’t do without confronting my parents, without fighting them over my future, but this thing with Ace doesn’t have to be.

  This can be mine and mine alone.

  when prometheus promised us fire

  did he know it would live inside your eyes?

  did he know I would turn to ashes

  to keep that flame alive?

  I will kindle all that remains

  even if my skin becomes a torch

  even if my mouth tastes like a dying sun

  I will burn for you

  I will burn for you

  I will burn for you

  If he’s okay with limitations on our relationship, if he’s okay with understanding that, until we get to college, this is something we’ll have to be careful with, then there’s no reason for me to sit by and let these feelings pass without acting on them.

  I didn’t think I had it in me to be this brave. But after everything, I know I don’t have any other choice.

  I have to be brave.

  For my own happiness.

  The competition ends too quickly. I look up and realize Samir’s team won.

  I guess it’s not that surprising, because he is smart, but I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like if he lost. I wonder if my parents would care. Maybe they’d yell at him instead of me for once.

  When we get home, I head to my room, but Samir stops me. His expression makes me uneasy. “What, Samir?”

  “I’m sorry, Myra Apu,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t think you’d get in trouble because of what I said. I should’ve realized they’d be upset because Ace is a dude, but I figured it wasn’t that deep. I thought as long as I kept the crush thing to myself, it’d be fine. That was my bad. I’m sorry. Really.”

  My resentment falters. I wasn’t expecting an apology, but I realize a small part of me hoped for one. I’m both surprised and relieved.

  “Thank you for apologizing,” I say quietly.

  “If you ever want to...” He doesn’t finish the sentence. “I won’t ever mention Ace to them again without talking to you about it first. I promise. For real this time. Sorry again.”

  I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat. “Thank you.”

  He stands there awkwardly for another moment before he nods and turns away, heading to his room as I head for mine.

  Samir’s apology stirs something in me, and I’m struck with the urge to act now. I need to make an apology of my own. I need to make a confession of my own.

  I can do this.

  I light a cinnamon-scented candle and take a deep breath. Before I can overthink the situation, I grab my phone and text Ace, I’m sorry.

  What I don’t expect is for my phone to start vibrating. Alistair Clyde would like to FaceTime...

  I waver, looking at myself in the screen. I look like I’ve been lying in bed all day, my hair ratty and piled in a high bun and my eyes droopy with dark circles underneath. I didn’t put any effort into looking good for Samir’s competition. I regret it now.

  But I’m not ignoring Ace anymore. I don’t want him to think I am.

  With trembling fingers, I accept the call.

  “Karina?” Ace says, his voice hesitant.

  I lick my lips. “I’m sorry I took so long. Things have just been...a lot.”

  “No apologies, remember?” Ace smiles but it fades quickly. “You picked up.”

  “I did,” I say quietly. He’s leaning against his bed frame, in a sweater that looks fuzzy and warm. I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around his neck and breathe him in. But there are more important things. If I don’t say this now, I’m never going to. “I want to do this.”

  “Do what?” Ace asks, blinking at me.

  I take a deep breath. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. “This thing you and I have. I want it to be real. I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

  It takes a moment but then Ace’s lips part. He’s staring at me like I’m going to disappear right before his eyes. “You want to—really?”

  I nod, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth. “It’s not going to be easy.” My phone is shaking in my hands. “It’s going to be so far from easy.”

  Ace’s gaze is so intense that I feel pinned to the spot. “I don’t care what’s easy, Karina. You’re worth it.”

  I laugh, half-hysterical. “You would say that.”

  “I’m serious,” he says, conviction heavy in his voice.

  I smile faintly. “You should back out while you still can. Doing this...this thing with me is a lot to handle. I have a lot of lines. I’ll understand if you want to call it quits. You don’t owe me anything.”

  Ace starts shaking his head before I even finish speaking. “I’ll take my chances,” he says. He scans my expression before he asks, “What made you change your mind?”

  “It wasn’t a what,” I say. These words are too honest, too truthful. But they’re the right words. “It was a who. Someone who said they saw a spark in me. They helped me realize that I could be brave. A lionheart, even.”

  Ace laughs breathlessly. “They sound wise.”

  “They are,” I say, my smile shaky. “But they’re also beautiful and thoughtful and patient and so very lovely.”

  “Yeah?” Ace says, a smile pulling at his own lips. “You shouldn’t say things like that. They might get the wrong idea and think you like them.”

  “It’s a good thing I do, then,” I say, the words unfamiliar and terrifying. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. “I like them so much, it’s kind of crazy.”

  Ace’s smile stretches even wider, familiar dimples popping into view. “Say it again.”

  “I like you, Alistair Clyde.” There’s something bright and colorful and warm blooming inside me, growing flowers in the gaps between my ri
bs and alongside the edges of my heart. “I like you so, so much.”

  Ace’s eyes shine brighter than they ever have before. The midnight sky doesn’t begin to compare. “I like you beyond explanation, Karina Ahmed. You drive me insane and I wouldn’t trade that for the world.”

  “I drive you insane?” I say, raising my eyebrows. My lips are stretching so wide that my cheekbones hurt. “You’re the one that won’t study no matter how much I beg you.”

  “Actually...” He disappears from the screen and comes back holding a copy of The Merchant of Venice with colored tabs marking the pages. “I finished this.”

  My eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

  “Is Portia a cross-dressing fake lawyer?” Ace throws back.

  There are explosions in my chest, little fireworks of glee injecting themselves into my bloodstream. “You really read it.”

  Ace’s face softens. “I did.”

  “I’m proud of you,” I say, my heart swelling with affection. “Maybe you’ll pass the Regents, after all.”

  He laughs, throwing his head back. “Yeah, maybe.”

  There’s a moment of warm, comfortable silence before Ace breaks it. “I want to ask you something.” For the first time since I’ve met him, he looks bashful. As if he’s somehow nervous to ask me whatever it is.

  “Okay,” I say. My pulse is loud in my ears, because Ace is watching me like I’m holding the universe in my hands.

  Ace looks down, his cheeks a lovely pink color I’ve only read about in books. “What do you think about dinner and a movie tomorrow?”

  I knew it was coming, and yet my breath still hitches. “Are you asking me out?”

  Ace’s smile doesn’t waver as he tilts his head at me. “Yes, I am.”

  I think I’m choking on my lungs. Ace wants to go on a date. With me. A date.

  “Okay,” I say, my voice high-pitched.

  “Okay?” Ace repeats. There’s the beginning of what looks like it could be a full-blown grin hinting at the corner of his mouth.