Love from a to Z

by S. K. Ali

  Hope—she was trying to give me hope.

  She was trying to light the way forward with hope.

  Amazing. To think I’d not been alone.

  That she’d been thinking ahead for me too.

  “Okay, I need to look at the water.” I gazed back at the waves. “Because I suddenly understand why there are rules in the first place.”

  “Me researching MS made you more thirsty?”

  “Yeah. That, and you being you. Really thirsty.”

  She laughed softly. “What does this mean? ’Cause we can’t drink the water, you know.”

  “Hello, people!”

  I turned behind me to see Ms. Raymond with other teachers from DIS making their way toward us.

  Ms. Raymond’s face lit up at seeing our snacks. “Oh, yes! I’m so happy you got to try chapati and karak, Zayneb!”

  Zayneb nodded and held up her chapati. “I approve, Doha.”

  We got up, and, before joining the others, I thanked the family nearby, the ones who’d lent us their chairs.

  • • •

  When we got home that night, we didn’t text each other.

  We didn’t need to.

  We just knew what we would both say.

  ZAYNEB

  WEDNESDAY, MARCH 20

  MARVEL: ADAM . . . I MEAN, WATER

  AUNTIE NANDY AND I WENT for a swim first thing today. We swam laps together and took turns rating each other’s dives, and then Auntie Nandy left for the changing room so she could go up to the apartment and put together her essential breakfast spread.

  I flipped onto my back and relaxed for a bit.

  My eyes were closed as I relived the moments on the beach yesterday, a goofy smile on my face—Adam and I feel the exact same about each other, and we admitted it!—when I got touched on the arm.

  I opened my eyes and lifted my head to a déjà vu. It was the woman in the white swim cap and swimsuit from my first time in the pool, trying to get my attention again. “I’m so sorry to interrupt you again. But my husband is trying to talk to you.”

  Pulling myself up in order to see and clear my ears properly, I turned to where she was pointing. It was the same bobbing man who’d tattled on me before to the gym attendant, Marc. He was standing by the pool stairs, hands hanging by his sides, shorts again hitched under his stomach.

  Her husband?

  I looked at her. “Your husband?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded sheepishly then yelled at him. “Now what is it? I got her attention.”

  “Excuse me, but I thought Marc told you the rules of swimming here.” The man’s arms raised into I’m-the-boss wings as he placed both hands on his hips. He looked like an angry bird.

  “We realize you may be a guest here, but there are rules at this complex, dear,” the woman beside me said sympathetically, like a granny. Like an I’m-the-boss granny.

  I almost lost it.

  But I thought again about being on the beach yesterday.

  Of sitting there in the night and the hot karak and coolness of the breeze off the water. Of Adam, when he said he liked the water a lot.

  It made me remember something: I liked me too.

  And I liked the things I liked to do, like swimming.

  “I’m not breaking any rules.” I spoke loudly so the man could hear. “To wear extra swim fabric is not breaking any rules.”

  “As we told you before, it’s not proper swimwear,” the man insisted, a scowl starting. He crossed his arms for emphasis, like a terrible cartoon. Because I’m the boss, and I say so!

  His wife patted my shoulder. “My husband just likes things the way they’ve been. We’ve lived here for four years. No one’s dressed like you before.”

  I drew myself away from her pretend niceness. “Excuse me, but I’d like to swim in peace now.”

  The man turned and headed toward the door.

  “Oh no, he’s going for Marc again.” The woman tut-tutted, watching him leave. “I’m so worried what this does to his heart. Getting upset like that. He’s so sensitive; I don’t want him to get sick.”

  I stared at her. “Excuse me, but did you ever think what it does to our hearts? To be continuously told that how we choose to be is wrong? Like, why can’t I just swim here in peace? Why do the clothes I have on my body hurt your husband’s heart?”

  She didn’t say anything, but I could see from her eyes enlarging that the wheels were working up there in her brain.

  From a distance, I went on. Not to get her to see it my way, but to help her brain out. “I’m sick of running into this so much. I’m the one heartsick, okay? Me and my sisters, my people.”

  She pursed her lips, so I ended with my last offer for her brain’s expansion. “And you know what? I’m not going to let your prejudice, your outrage, or fake kindness, either, change one bit of me, of how I look, of who I am. Your resistance to my existence is futile, okay?”

  I floated away from her.

  I floated and floated, with my eyes closed, thinking of the water lapping the beach yesterday, the twinkling boat lights, and Adam.

  When I decided I was done chilling, I left the empty pool.

  • • •

  After showering, as I sat with one white towel round my body and another round my head, drying in the changing room, I sent Adam the MS forum links I’d found.

  He replied with thanks and see you soon followed by two wave emojis.

  I smiled to myself.

  To check whether the links I’d passed him worked right, I clicked on the first one. It led me to the MS chat subforum of a group chat site.

  It was a site I hadn’t heard of until I’d done the search for Adam: Nest. I clicked around and saw that it was neatly organized into closed or open forums. I entered an open forum called CollegeDirt and scrolled the postings discussing the merits of different colleges.

  I entered U of Chicago in the search and read the comments a bit until I stopped at a post by someone named SugarWraith.

  Which reminded me of Fencer.

  Fencer had used the online alias @StoneWraith14.

  I searched this name in the forum and came up empty.

  I methodically clicked each of the forum sites I’d sent Adam, skipping the obviously medical ones, looking for evidence of @StoneWraith14.

  Nothing turned up.

  But I wasn’t done checking.

  • • •

  I pulled a black abaya on, wrapped a scarf loosely on my head, and swung my gym sackpack over both my arms before exiting the changing room, planning on getting properly and thoroughly and amazingly dressed upstairs in the apartment.

  Because today was special.

  On the way home yesterday from Katara, while we walked to the parking lot, Adam had told Auntie Nandy and me about the room he’d been fixing downstairs at his house. He wanted it to be done in time for Hanna’s birthday as a surprise for her.

  “But I haven’t been able to go down there and really work on it. I was in the middle of painting it when I got the attack.” He nodded at Auntie Nandy. “And, as you know, I lost a few days from that.”

  “I’ll come over and help you paint,” Auntie Nandy said. “I’m quite a pro at it.”

  Adam had considered for a few seconds then looked over at me. “If Zayneb comes too, then I’m in.”

  I watched Hanna, who’d skipped ahead with her dad and was now “tightrope” walking on the concrete bumpers edging the parking lot. “I will, but on the condition that Hanna doesn’t know we’re there, and she doesn’t see it until we’re done. So that she can be completely surprised.”

  “Deal. I’ll just get my dad involved.”

  Then we’d smiled to seal it, and so today Auntie Nandy and I were going over there right after breakfast.

  Right now, as I walked out of the gym, I was in la-la land, thinking of that smile between us.

  Marc stood up when I reached the gym reception area. “Hi. Just to tell you, we’ve had another complaint about your swimwear.”


  “You mean the same complaint.” I didn’t stop to look at him but only turned when I got to the doors, only to show him I wasn’t fazed by him.

  “I’d appreciate it if there weren’t any disruptions here.”

  “And I’d appreciate it if you’d make sure I get to swim in peace like everyone else. Ciao.”

  I went out into the courtyard but paused right outside the glass double doors.

  Then I lifted my arms to let the air blow through the billowy sleeves of the abaya.

  To let Marc see that I was free of him and his interference in my freedom.

  • • •

  Adam had everything prepped for us: three paint trays housing paint and rollers, small brushes lying on top of closed paint cans ready for edge work, and a ladder, its legs split apart, at attention.

  Even though I knew I’d be painting, I’d dressed well.

  I had on jeans and a white-and-navy-blue-striped button-down shirt with a navy-blue hijab worn trim around my face.

  As soon as Adam had seen me at the front door, his eyes had lit up.

  As Auntie Nandy climbed the ladder to finish the ceiling edges, her wireless headphones on, and he and I began loading our rollers to finish the walls, he said, “Psst, a question in the series I Need to Know Everything About You, Volume One: Do you always wear blue hijabs? Like a shade of blue?”

  “No.” While picking up my paint-heavy roller from the tray, I searched his face, wondering what he meant. “I mean, that’s not my thing. My favorite color is orange.”

  “Really? Because I’ve noticed a lot of blue. And I thought that was cool.”

  I aimed my first roll at the middle of the wall in front of me, smiling. He’d noticed. And liked them. My hijabs.

  I pssted him, too. “I like hearing you say that, that it’s cool. It’s so the opposite of what I usually hear. About me wearing hijab.” And then I went on to tell him about this morning at the pool.

  He paused painting and drew the roller away from the wall. “That sucks, Zayneb. I’m sorry.”

  I paused too. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m a magnet for it. That kind of attitude. I don’t know if all Muslim girls get this stuff.”

  “I’ve got to be honest—I’ve never asked any of the Muslim girls I’ve known about it. I feel bad about that.” He began rolling again, but slower. “I wish I’d been there this morning, though. At the pool.”

  I turned to him. “What do you mean? What would you have done?”

  “I would have spoken up. Maybe recorded it with my phone, so there’s evidence.” He reached high with the roller and smiled. “I would have been there for the water, my water, not the pool water, is what I’m trying to say.”

  My face tingled at the word “my,” something hot spreading through my cheeks, and I wondered if I was blushing.

  It felt weirdly amazing to hear him say “my water” so effortlessly like that.

  I tried to continue rolling nonchalantly. Tried to douse my cheeks with practical matters. “Speaking of water, what do you think we should do? I’m returning home in three days.”

  He went to the cluster of paint trays and loaded his roller again. When he got back to our wall, he had a smile on his face. A secure one. “So last night I read protocol. The way to roll this out so it’s right. I’m supposed to ask your parents’ permission to get to know you.”

  “But they’re in Pakistan and Springdale.” I stopped rolling and thought about it. “Though my mom will be here tomorrow.”

  “Should I talk to her?”

  I went to reload my roller and returned, thinking hard. “It sounds so official. To talk to my parents. Though I think they might know a bit already, because my sister knows.”

  “Well, my dad knows. And he likes you—I think mainly because Hanna likes you. Your aunt knows.” He cleared his throat. “Hanna knows. She thinks it’s weird, because we’re cousins, but other than that she says she’s happy. So now it’s just your parents.”

  “Okay, but do it fast, all right? Like a Band-Aid. I don’t want any pain from it.” I imagined Dad lingering on questions and Mom wanting to be around Adam to check him out more.

  “I thought they were the cool ocean.” He raised his eyebrows at me from near the corner he was painting. “Completely chill parents.”

  “They totally are. But they might also be overly nosy.”

  “Concerned is another way to see it.”

  “I just knew you were the dutiful-son type. Mama’s boy.”

  “Yeah. I actually am.”

  I removed my roller from the wall and turned away in horror. I’d forgotten again. About his mom.

  Oh God, was this always going to happen?

  What was wrong with my mouth?

  “Zayneb? Hey?” He was pssting again, and I could tell he was close behind me.

  I turned to see him rolling some patches I’d missed on the wall. I swallowed before speaking. “Sorry. To say what I did. Like the mama’s-boy thing. Like alluding to you under your mom’s thumb when she isn’t even . . .”

  “That’s why I’m trying to get your attention. It’s all cool. I’ll always be a mama’s boy.” He smiled at me, completely at ease. “Because while I’m not comfortable discussing my mom’s death—that, yeah, hurts me a lot . . .” His smile faltered a bit before he plowed on. “I’m completely fine talking about her life. I already told you that. She was an amazing mom, and she continues to be, because sometimes I bring her up in my head, the things she told me, that we talked about, when I need to figure new things out in my life now. Like my MS and stuff.”

  I don’t know why, but I teared up on hearing that and then nodded, and he nodded, teary-eyed too, and we worked quietly side by side for a long while.

  And I was so glad he’d be talking to my parents soon, because I just wanted to wrap my arms around him.

  • • •

  Somewhere in the soothing rhythms of painting and attaching the small pieces Adam had made over the years to add to the room, I told him all about Fencer.

  At the end of it, he looked like he wanted to wrap his arms around me.

  ADAM

  THURSDAY, MARCH 21

  MARVEL: CONNECTIONS

  WE’D WORKED ALL DAY YESTERDAY, Zayneb, Ms. Raymond, and me, breaking for lunch together, and then dinner with Dad and Hanna, who’d returned from an entire day spent at the beach. They’d been there with the one friend of Hanna’s who had remained at our neighborhood compound for spring break.

  With the work we’d done, the room was half-alive.

  I’d woken up this morning energized to add the finishing touches—the ones I hadn’t wanted to add with Zayneb there, the ones I wanted her to be surprised by.

  But first I had to say good-bye to Connor, who was flying back to college in California.

  We met at our favorite burger place near DIS, the one with the old-timey jukebox.

  He dropped coins in the machine, and “Stand by Me” flooded the place.

  “Fill me in on what’s next for you,” he said, sliding into the seat across from me, a triple-patty sandwich waiting for him on a tray.

  “I’m finishing the room I started downstairs. Then I’m going to spend a bit of time here in Doha before I go see my grandparents, both sets, in Canada. And then, maybe . . .” I paused to take a bite of my cheeseburger and to consider how to tell him my decision. By the time I finished chewing, I’d worked it out. I’d just say it. “Go see Zayneb. In Indiana.”

  He took a long sip of his drink before chuckling. “Okay, this is the best. My man Adam finding his girl.”

  “Do me a favor?” I picked up a couple of fries and dunked them into the container of ketchup. “Keep this news out of the group chat? There was some mix-up, and Zayneb told Emma P. there was nothing between us. I don’t want Emma to think she was lying.”

  “It’s in the vault.” He ate his burger, moving his head to the music in between bites. “What about with your MS? You’ve got a treatment plan worked out?�
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  “That’s Friday. I’m going to the neurologist.” I finished eating my fries. “How about you? You staying in your program?”

  “Yeah, Nancy’s going to help me figure things out. When you go to Vancouver, see if you can catch a flight to Berkeley. I want to see you, and maybe you can meet her. Nancy.”

  “Adding California to the jet-setting itinerary.”

  “I’ll try to get the others to come too. Because, you know, none of our crew is coming back here, right? For the summer?”

  I reached into my pocket. “Hey, I got you a Steam gift card.”

  I dropped the plastic card, loaded with money redeemable for use on the gaming site, in the middle of the table.

  “Why?” Connor reached for it. “Whoa, that’s a lot. Why’d you do that? It better not be a thank-you thing, man.”

  “No way. It’s so we can talk,” I said, undoing the seam of my empty fries sleeve, to flatten it and fold it. “You play, we talk? Every Sunday?”

  He looked at me, then down at my hands origami-ing the box. “Will you play the songs I request then? On your guitar?”

  “Yep.” I took another bite of my burger, and he got up and added more money to the jukebox.

  “Scarborough Fair” accompanied our plans to meet up in California.

  • • •

  Dad took Hanna out to buy her birthday decorations, and as soon as they left, I went downstairs to finish.

  I hesitated only briefly before climbing the ladder, nail gun in hand.

  My hands moved methodically, spacing the lights so that they crisscrossed the ceiling in a weave.

  When I was done, I felt a tingling in my arms that I told myself was fatigue.

  But I put the nail gun down and decided to finish the rest tomorrow morning.

  Early, before Hanna woke up for her birthday.

  • • •

  My method for not thinking of Zayneb leaving was prepping to see her again in the summer. I’d already worked out with my grandparents on Dad’s side that I’d stay with them on my own, as well as when Dad reached Vancouver with Hanna, and then go on to Ottawa to spend two weeks with my other grandparents. After which I hoped to add a trip to Indiana. And California in between somewhere.