The Chai Factor

by Farah Heron

  “Give me five to get my duds on, then we’ll go,” Duncan said, heading to his room.

  They took the subway downtown. Zahra, with her usual no-holding-back extroversion, used the train ride to break past Maddie’s shy persona.

  “Amira told me you dance, too? I’m in modern and classical Indian. I want to do ballet, too, but Mum says there has to be a limit . . . what kind of dance do you do?”

  Maddie said nothing.

  “She’s in ballet,” Duncan said. “Five years now, right, Mads? Tell them about when you guys did The Nutcracker at Christmas. Their costumes were something else.”

  Maddie looked up at Duncan, unsure, and still quiet. Zahra was unfazed, though, and kept talking.

  “The Nutcracker? Lucky. My friend Olivia saw The Nutcracker downtown. Oh, it’s the same place we’re going now, right, Amira? This is my first time at a real ballet. These dancers came to my school once, but it was, like, a kids’ thing. They didn’t even wear tutus. Did you wear a tutu in The Nutcracker? That’s a cool dress you’re wearing. You could do ballet in that. Mum says I don’t know how to sit still long enough to wear a long dress. She wanted me to wear a salwar kameez today, but, seriously, how embarrassing would that be? You know what a salwar kameez is? It’s an Indian outfit with pants and a long top thing.”

  “I’ve seen those.” Maddie nodded.

  Duncan leaned in close, whispering in Amira’s ear, “Your sister’s a spitfire.”

  She smiled. “I know. Let me know if you think she’s too much for Maddie. I can tell her to tone it down.”

  “Nah, it’s good. Maddie’s already warming to her.”

  Amira wasn’t so sure. Three words in response to Zahra’s speech hardly seemed like warming. But true to Duncan’s word, Maddie did seem at least lukewarm by the time they reached their subway stop. Even speaking in full sentences.

  They ate lunch at an Italian place, one of those massive family restaurants that catered more to tourists than locals. Zahra had finally succeeded at breaking past the last vestige of Maddie’s timidness, so the girls were in an animated discussion about recent dance competitions and performances. Maddie looked to be struggling a bit to keep up with Zahra, but that was nothing new. Most people struggled to keep up with Amira’s sister, even on her quiet days. But Maddie looked at Zahra with total awe, obviously desperate to impress her charismatic new friend. Duncan was amazing with her—encouraging his niece when she grew tongue-tied, while guiding the conversation towards topics Maddie was comfortable with.

  “What about you, Amira? You dance like your sister?” Duncan asked.

  Amira laughed. “No. Mum tried, but I’m terrible. I’m more about algorithms than natural rhythm.”

  He shrugged. “Eh. People can have many talents. Look at me. I can play the guitar and apparently make a decent cup of chai tea.”

  Zahra giggled. “Chai tea means tea tea. Amira’s going to let you have it for saying that.”

  He winked at Zahra. “I can only hope. Why do you think I said it?”

  Amira raised a brow. Was he provoking her intentionally? It wouldn’t work—she was determined to be nothing but pleasant today. The conversation stayed on the topic of dance for a while longer, and since Amira could add no valuable insight, she toyed with her pasta. While swirling her agnolotti in the pink cream sauce, she tried to resist the urge to lift her head up, since her field of vision was completely dominated by Duncan.

  She couldn’t help noticing her garden gnome cleaned up well. Really well. Slim-fitting black dress pants, a royal blue shirt with a tight weave, and a slim black sweater vest. His beard had been neatly trimmed, and his mouth faintly turned up with amusement when he met her stare.

  Crap. He noticed her checking him out.

  “You clean up nice, too,” he said quietly, eyes running up and down her dark teal cocktail dress appreciatively. He waggled his eyebrows.

  She swallowed a laugh, kicking him under the table. He grinned and sipped his beer.

  “Uncle Duncan was going to be a famous singer,” Maddie announced. “He was interviewed on TV once.”

  “He can still be famous!” Zahra said. “I heard his group sing in the basement, they are so good! They’re like those college kids from that movie, you know, the one with that blonde girl . . .”

  “Sorry, sweetheart,” Duncan said, smiling at Zahra, “but I don’t see fame and fortune in my future anymore. I anchored that ship a long time ago.” He reached his hand out to pat Maddie’s gently.

  His niece looked up at him and smiled.

  Amira raised a brow in query at Duncan. He nodded. “Superstars tour too much. I like to be closer to home.”

  Maddie was still looking up at her uncle, and he still had his hand on hers. It wasn’t said outright, but clearly Maddie and Duncan had discussed this before. Amira’s heart swelled at the palpable affection between them. It was so touching, but also surprising. Had Duncan put his music career on hold for the sake of this child? Really? True, fame and fortune were rare occurrences, even with Duncan’s talent, but even without fame, working musicians usually needed to travel. To play on tour. Duncan had said he only played in local bands around his town. Why give up his dream to stay put near his brother’s daughter?

  Amira adored her sister, but even she couldn’t imagine putting her life on hold for her sister. She watched him, realizing that she knew so little about this man and his motivations. He smiled self-consciously as he took his hand from Maddie’s to sip his drink.

  “That’s cool you were on TV,” Amira said.

  “Just a morning show out of Peterborough. Local talent showcase. Hardly big leagues.”

  Zahra grinned proudly. “Amira was on the news a lot last year.”

  Amira shot her sister a look. “Zahra, please.”

  “She was angry about what happened and they kept coming to interview her. She was famous. But she doesn’t like to talk about it now,” Zahra said.

  It was Duncan’s turn to raise a brow in query. Amira shook her head and looked at her sister. “I don’t like to talk about it, Zahra. And that means you are not supposed to bring it up.” She tried to smile. “So, anyone know anything about the principal dancer today?”

  Later, when the girls giggled their way to the bathroom together, Duncan took the opportunity to butt in where he wasn’t wanted. “What was that about? Why were you on the news?”

  She glanced up, studying the ornate Tiffany-style chandelier above the table. “It’s nothing. I barely think about it anymore. Something happened and I was a convenient target for the media to latch on to. It’s not a reason anyone would want to be famous.”

  Amira hated anyone bringing up the airport incident, but she specifically dreaded the thought of Duncan knowing what happened that day. She knew what he would say—that she got herself into trouble because of her big mouth, that she should have held in her temper, and that he knew perfectly well how nasty Amira could be while travelling. Duncan’s reaction wouldn’t be different from so many other people’s.

  One pointed look from her would probably shut him up about the topic, but she couldn’t form her face into its familiar shape of disdain. Is that all he saw in her? Fury and rage?

  Was that all she had become?

  She didn’t know what she wanted from Duncan Galahad, but she couldn’t bear the thought of him only seeing that one thing in her. Only the prickly porcupine that he excelled at provoking. Not after she’d seen his softer, nurturing side with his niece. But she wasn’t sure she knew how to be anything else.

  “Suit yourself,” he said. “I know I’ve been the victim of the over-sharing of young girls. Maddie once told a date I sleep in a red plaid onesie.”

  That made her smile. She couldn’t help but want to see that one day.

  The ballet was wonderful. Amira had never been into dance, certainly not to the extent her little sister and mother loved it, but even she was awed by the graceful leaps and twirls. The athleticism and artistry on display
were like nothing she had ever seen before. Still, the performance would have been even more enjoyable if she hadn’t spent most of it trying to figure Duncan out.

  She couldn’t quite wrap her head around the revelation that he had avoided fame and fortune because of a promise to Maddie. Clearly this wasn’t a normal niece-uncle relationship. Seeing as the girl barely had a mother, it was no wonder Duncan was more of a parent figure, but where did the girl’s father fit in to all this? Duncan hadn’t spoken of his brother much, and Amira had no idea how close they were. But they had to be close—they lived together. It seemed they co-parented this child together. Duncan was clearly more than he seemed.

  She glanced at him sitting three seats over, with Zahra and Maddie between them. He appeared to be enjoying the show. Easygoing. Relaxed. Attentive to Maddie. Doting, even, but firm. He hadn’t succumbed to her big eye-pouts when she asked for an ice cream cone from one of the trucks outside City Hall. He had helped draw her out of her shell so well that it was like she and Zahra had been friends forever.

  And he was unusually kind to Amira today, too. Holding doors open, being polite, even thanking her for accompanying him. Not a single smirk or snarky comment. They had agreed on a truce yesterday, but Amira felt positive that this difference in his behaviour had more to do with setting an example for his niece than anything else.

  She turned back towards the show. Amira had been grateful at first that the girls were between her and Duncan, but now she was hit with a disconcerting wave of longing to be closer to him. She wanted to whisper comments in his ear about the performance, maybe get his opinion about the orchestra, even make a crack about the gold butterflies in the hair of the woman in front of her. She wished she could smell his cedar and laundry soap scent, and that desire was not something she wanted to deal with right now.

  She tried to be cheerful and not let on how disturbed she felt on the way home, but apparently she wasn’t successful. Duncan leaned close on the train, his warm breath sending a shiver up her spine.

  “You okay? You’re not still upset about your sister sharing dirt about you, are you?”

  “No. I’m fine. I’m over that. I’m just . . .” She fiddled with the clasp of her purse, head down.

  “You’re what?”

  “I’m a little out of sorts on account of how nice you’re being. I figured for sure we’d get kicked out for bloodshed in the audience.”

  “Hey”—he laughed—“I resent that! I am nice!”

  Amira snorted. Duncan Galahad was many things . . . but she wouldn’t list anything as mundane as nice among his attributes.

  “That place was too pretty for death matches, anyway,” he continued. “The acoustics were incredible, but next time, I’ll take you to the kind of place where the sound is just as good and you can scratch your ass without your pinky raised.”

  Her eyebrows shot up higher than the principal dancer’s leap. “Next time?”

  “Sure, next time. We need to take this friendship to new levels, if you ask me. The girls seem to get along. We should take them to more shows together. Maddie could use a bit of city culture.”

  “This isn’t quite a friendship . . .” she mumbled, but she made the mistake of looking at him. His eyes were warm yet slightly crinkled at the edges. His skin golden beneath his beard. And his lips, slightly curled in the corners. She bit her own lip. He watched her, with just as much interest. She shivered as his gaze swept over her face like a warm breeze.

  Fuck. Distance. Distance between her and Duncan was what she needed.

  “Uncle Duncan,” Maddie said, looking up at him, blue eyes pleading. “Can I sleep over at Zahra’s tonight? She has a bunk bed.”

  “Sorry, it’s a school night. And your dad’s already on his way from Omemee to get you. Maybe another time?”

  “She’s always welcome. Zahra lives for sleepovers,” Amira said.

  “Hey, you know what might work, Mads? Your dad’s coming up to watch my singing competition on Sunday. Maybe if Sameer will loan me his car again, I’ll come get you the night before so you can have your sleepover. Oh, sorry, Amira, I guess we should have asked you first, or your mom.”

  “Please, Amira, can she?” Zahra asked. “I want to teach her the Bollywood dance I’m working on.”

  Amira smiled. “I’m sure Mum won’t mind. But he’ll have to check with Maddie’s dad and Sameer first.”

  Duncan’s brother, Ryan, was already there when they got home, chatting with Barrington in the family room. He was a tall, clean-cut man who looked exactly like a narrower, less burly Duncan. It was odd—it looked like someone forgot to add the finishing touches when he was made. Like biryani without cilantro or fried onions.

  “There’s my girl,” he said, bending to hug Maddie. “How was the fancy ballet?”

  “Really good! It was better than when you and Grandma took me. Zahra said I can come to her dance recital in July. Can we? She does Indian dance, like in the movies. And Uncle Duncan said I could come sleep over before his singing competition on Sunday. I want to bring my new split-sole ballet slippers for Zahra to try. She’s never worn real ballet shoes before.”

  “Hey now, slow down, baby girl, don’t get ahead of yourself. Indian dancing, eh? That’s something. Did you say thank you to the nice people for taking you out today?”

  Amira stepped forward. “It was our pleasure. Zahra and Maddie got along so well, she’s welcome here any time.” She held out a hand for him to shake.

  She looked carefully at Duncan’s brother when he shook her hand. The similarity between them was so strong that she was treated to a glimpse of what Duncan would look like without a beard. Even Ryan’s eyes were the same clear green—that colour bright enough to inspire ballads and prose in her mind. But on longer scrutiny, something was missing in Ryan’s eyes. They were just . . . less. Duncan’s eyes always seemed to flash with emotion. She had seen anger, annoyance, amusement, warmth, even arousal in Duncan’s gaze. Ryan’s eyes seemed almost blank. Cold?

  She was imagining it. He was Duncan’s brother—he wasn’t cold. He was probably just an introvert, like Maddie. Still, he looked away immediately after shaking her hand.

  Amira decided to extract herself from the conversation after Barrington asked Ryan if he’d like to stay for a coffee before heading back on the road. She wasn’t keen on making small talk to impress this man. Her “friendship” with Duncan was odd enough without adding a “meet the family” situation into it.

  “Let’s go tell Mum about the show, Zahra. It was great meeting you, Maddie. I hope we’ll see you on the weekend.” She waved to the men and climbed the stairs with her sister.

  She was relieved to get out of there. Today had been weird.

  Chapter Sixteen

  THEY FOUND NANIMA cooking in the kitchen, but Mum was nowhere to be seen.

  “Ah, you girls are home. How was the ballet?” Nanima asked, turning away from whatever smelled amazing on the stove.

  “So good, Nanima,” Zahra said. “You should have seen the jumps the ballerina did. Maddie told me what they were called, but I don’t remember. She’s going to teach me the five basic positions on the weekend.”

  Amira peeked over Nanima’s shoulder to see what she was making. Looked like a chicken curry.

  “Zahra, go take off that dress,” Nanima said. “You’ll make a mess. Olivia was here with some homework from your teacher. It’s on the dining table.”

  “Where’s Mum?” Zahra asked. “I brought her a program from the show.”

  “She’s gone out tonight. But she told me to tell you to phone her when you get home.”

  Zahra picked up Nanima’s phone from the kitchen counter and started to dial.

  “Nah!” Nanima took the phone back. “Change out of that dress first! Don’t get stains on it before Eid!”

  “Can I go show Olivia—”

  “Zahra, c’mon,” Amira interrupted. “No arguments. Change, then homework.”

  Zahra groaned before headi
ng to her room. Amira peeked into the other pot on the stove. Peas and potatoes. Too bad she was still full from lunch.

  Nanima shook her head. “That girl is turning into you. She’s getting so saucy these days.”

  Amira snorted. “Saucy?”

  Nanima frowned. “Maybe sassy? Smart-mouthed. You were like that when you were her age.” She smiled as she patted Amira’s cheek. “You’re a sweet girl now, though.”

  Amira tried not to snort again at being called sweet. “Where did Mum go?”

  “An art show, I think. With her work friends. You eating with us tonight?”

  “Probably not. We had a huge lunch. And I’ve got work to do. I’m hoping Raymond emailed me today with his comments on my report. And if he didn’t, I still need a conclusion. I lost a whole day.”

  “Okay. I was going to take Zahra to Jamatkhana tonight, but she must be tired, and she has homework, too. I’ll stay home with her.”

  “I can watch Zahra tonight.”

  “No, you have to focus on your school work. Can I make you a sandwich later? Your mum bought that good bread. I can make you grilled cheese and chutney like you used to like.”

  Amira smiled at her grandmother. Nanima was a sweetheart, no question, but she suddenly wondered if her grandmother had any regrets for all the work she did for them. While she hadn’t exactly given up the chance for a lucrative career in music like Duncan did, she had sacrificed a lot to help raise children who were not her own. She even took an early retirement from her part-time job in administration after the divorce so someone could be home for Zahra. Of course, as a sixty-plus-year-old woman at the end of her working life, her situation was night and day from Duncan’s, who’d been in his twenties and just starting his career when he made a commitment to Maddie. But in both cases, one thing was clear—Duncan Galahad and her grandmother were amazing people.

  And wasn’t that a complete one-eighty from how she had previously felt about Duncan? Just yesterday, she was both cursing the man and cursing waking up with beard burn from kissing him senseless the night before.