by Farah Heron
“Amira, it was my brother who didn’t want Maddie to come! Not me. I had nothing to do with it! I just got into a big row with him over this. I was furious. I’m not like him.”
Amira closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. “I know you’re not,” she said finally, between clenched teeth. “But I don’t really know who you are either. I’ve only known you for a few weeks, and I didn’t know your family felt this way.”
Duncan was silent a few breaths. “I’ve always been the black sheep in my family. One of the only liberals. I’ve tried to get them to see things my way, and I try to be a better influence for Maddie.” He paused. “I’ve performed with all types of people, and so many of my students are from different cultures. Even refugees. I’m not like my family, I promise, please . . .”
“But you knew they felt this way?”
He looked down at his feet. “Yes, I knew. It’s a small town, most of my family drank that right-wing Kool-Aid years ago. Ryan’s not fond of all my gay friends either. But he doesn’t say that stuff in front of Maddie.”
“He obviously does! I can’t believe you would let me take Zahra to spend the day with Maddie without warning me she may say something like this! Zahra’s just a kid! And Ryan was here, in my house!” Her voice started to crack. She paused to collect herself. “You know I’ve been trying to shelter her from this crap. And you let me invite her to sleep over! After everything I told you . . . the harassment I went through, the trolls, the pictures. I can’t believe—”
“I didn’t know Maddie would say this stuff to Zahra.” His voice rose again. “So many people have misconceptions because they don’t know people like you. I thought maybe if they met you—”
“It’s not my fucking job to be some Muslim ambassador!”
He said nothing. Duncan was finally speechless. He stared at her, those beautiful green eyes wide.
“It shouldn’t take knowing me to understand that I’m a human being,” she said.
They stared at each other for several seconds. Amira’s mind flashed to the memories of the night before, how amazing it had been to sleep in his arms. How amazing it had been when he was in complete contact with her body as they made love.
Because that’s what they did—they made love. It had never been just sex. She hadn’t understood how complex a physical act could be until Duncan. Devastatingly real and completely present. She’d never felt so connected in her life. She’d felt seen. But he hadn’t seen her. Not really. If he had, he wouldn’t have exposed her to this.
It was impossible to accept, but the truth was that Duncan wasn’t different from any of them out there. He was compassionate, but not enough. He was empathetic, but only to a point.
She met his eyes. He had never looked like this before. Not his usual argumentative self. No trace of snark on his face. He looked wrecked, and completely devastated. She had won this fight and had never felt worse.
She sat down between Sameer and Travis. “You may not think like them, but you excuse them,” she said quietly. “You live with them. You put me and my family in their line of fire. You prefer to surround yourself with intolerance because it’s an easier life, and you just tell yourself, Well, at least I don’t think like them. At least I’m more enlightened than my family.” Amira wiped a rogue tear that escaped as Sameer put his hand on her knee.
The room was silent. All noise in this basement for the last week and a half wasn’t nearly as deafening as this silence.
“Complacency isn’t enough for me,” she said. “To you, it’s just a liberal/conservative issue. Right wing versus left wing. But we are real people, and our mere existence has become political. Your family and their so-called conservative values hurt my little sister. She’s eleven years old, struggling for acceptance, and discovering her self-worth. And Maddie told her she’s worth less because of her race and religion. This isn’t some ideology to Zahra, it’s just who she is. And all she wanted was a sleepover with a new friend. But life can’t be that simple for her, not because of her identity, but because of people like your brother.” Amira swallowed. “And that’s why there’s no future for us. Not a friendship, not more. I don’t blame you for your family, I know you don’t feel that way. But you don’t fight it either. And I can’t be around that. I don’t want me, or my family, to be reminded of the hate. It’s destroying us, Duncan.”
He looked at her, expression absolutely broken. “I don’t know what to say . . .”
Amira stood, not meeting his eyes. “I have to work on my project. I won’t be here later because I have a sleepover to go to. You guys rehearse as long as you want tonight, it won’t bother me.”
She left the room without turning around.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
SHAKING, AMIRA SAT on the edge of her bed.
Her mind was spinning. Her report—she should work on her project. After wiping away another tear, she sat at her desk and stared at her computer. She couldn’t concentrate.
She stood up again, pushing her heavy limbs that wanted to hold her in place, and stopped in the middle of her room. The house was so quiet. No one talking. No cheerful singing. Not even any arguing. Only the loud ticking of the damn clock on her wall. Amira pulled it down and yanked the batteries out of it.
She placed the clock heavily in the corner of her room, next to Duncan’s bag. The dark green duffel bag was open, showing her a peek of his worn blue jeans and one of his many flannel shirts. Duncan had moved his things into her room only yesterday, and already his stuff was strewn about as if it had always been here. His shaving kit in the bathroom, complete with cedar-scented beard oil. His plaid pyjama pants tossed on the chair. Even the guitar she loaned him was leaning up against the corner of the room. He had fiddled with it every day, sometimes singing softly while playing simple chords, other times letting his fingers glide effortlessly over the frets into complicated arrangements. Duncan was talented. She loved watching him play.
Amira packed his things into his bag and left them in the hallway, along with the guitar. She didn’t think it was necessary to tell him she didn’t want him sleeping in her room anymore.
Once her space was tidy, she stood in the middle of the room again. She needed something else to do. Something else to distract her from her thoughts. Her mind was racing in circles, a sharp stab of pain in her chest muddling everything.
Betrayed. That’s how she felt. Betrayed by the fucked-up world that had normalized bigotry. Her logic hadn’t left her—she understood that it wasn’t really Duncan’s fault that his brother and niece had hurt Zahra, but she still felt betrayed by him. She knew they came from different worlds, but it hadn’t occurred to her that Duncan’s world actively hated hers. He should have told her that. He should have told her that involving herself with him would mean constantly fighting against hate.
But one image wouldn’t leave her mind: the anguished look on Duncan’s face when she walked away from him. It was in sharp contrast to the man she had grown so close to. It wasn’t much of a consolation to know that he was probably hurting right now, too, but at least it confirmed that her feelings for him weren’t one-sided.
Another image popped into her head: the priceless look on his face when he’d tied himself up with his own suspenders last night. It was a mixture of pride, arousal, and mischief that was so quintessentially Duncan. No man had ever been willing to be so vulnerable with her. No one had ever understood what Amira wanted. Or needed. She had finally found someone who got her.
But no. He didn’t get her. He didn’t get why it hurt so much that her existence was nothing but a political issue to some people. And he didn’t get how important it was for her to shield her family, her little sister, from the realities of this world for as long as possible.
Sameer said to fight for the good—the best—relationship. Well, this was not something she could fight for. This was the big thing she couldn’t compromise on.
Amira’s text tone rang, startling her. It was Reena.
Reena
Can you take a break from your new man and meet me at the Sparrow? I want to hear about the fancy party.
Amira
There is no more new man. His family thinks we’re terrorists and made Zahra cry. I promised her a sleepover, I have to stay in.
Reena
Oh crap. You need me to bring my sleeping bag and join you?
Amira almost wrote back that, no, she was fine, she didn’t need her best friend’s comfort after the combustion of a relationship that was only days old, but her fingers stilled over her phone. The truth was, she was not fine. About Duncan, about her conversation earlier with Shelley, and about Sameer and Travis. And maybe there was nothing wrong with leaning on her friend when the universe seemed to be conspiring to shatter everything she cared about.
Amira
Yes. Please. I need you.
Finally, it was time to go upstairs for dinner. Amira packed a small bag of things since she had no intention of coming back downstairs until the barbershop quartet left her home. She couldn’t face any of them right now.
Duncan’s bag had been removed from the hallway, and she didn’t see anyone around. Good.
Dinner with her family felt strange. Zahra seemed to have snapped back from her earlier disappointment reasonably well. She didn’t mention Maddie at all and seemed excited that Amira was going to sleep in her room, but it was an act. Zahra’s enthusiasm was muted. Forced. It broke Amira’s heart all over again. Every time Zahra had to face these small fights, these little injustices, Amira’s spitfire sister would become just a little bit more muted, a little less herself. It was a tough pill to swallow. Amira hoped that the likes of Ryan Galahad wouldn’t dim her sister’s light any more than this.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
REENA SHOWED UP halfway through the meal, a platter of sticky buns in one hand and a sleeping bag in the other.
“These were waiting in my freezer for the call of an emergency slumber party,” she said solemnly to Zahra.
Zahra smiled. Reena, clearly understanding Amira’s subtle cues, didn’t ask any questions or even mention Duncan or his family while she joined them for some of Nanima’s delectable curries. After eating, they changed into their pyjamas, popped popcorn, and settled in the living room to watch the ballet movie.
Amira whispered to Reena once the movie was on. “Thanks for coming.”
“No problem at all. I was glad to get out of the house.” Reena put a handful of popcorn in her mouth.
“Is Saira still reeling? You said you thought the battle was coming to a head.”
Reena smiled with a swell of pride as she finished chewing. “Oh yeah, she’s reeling. She’s even more pissed now because she’s moving out.”
Amira’s hand shot to her mouth. “What?”
“I asked her to leave last night. And, shockingly, she agreed. She’s moving back in with our parents.”
“Oh my god, Ree, that’s amazing! Way to go! You stood up to her!”
Reena’s grin widened. “I did. You should have seen me. Although—”
A knock at the front door startled them. Nanima and Mum had gone to Jamatkhana, so Amira paused the movie and answered the door.
Surprisingly, it was Travis, holding a tray of cupcakes and a tote bag.
“Cupcakes!” Zahra squealed.
He grinned. “Hi, Zahra. I thought you might want a special hairdo for your slumber party?”
“Yes! Amira, can he stay? I want him to braid my hair again . . .”
“Sure.” Amira smiled, letting Travis in.
“I hope I’m not out of line here,” he said, removing his shoes and walking into the living room, “but I went to the drugstore and picked up some hair dye. How would you like some pink streaks in your hair, Zahra?”
Amira’s eyes bugged out.
“Permanent pink streaks?” Reena asked.
“I bought temporary dye,” Travis assured. “It washes right out. But I also bought the permanent stuff. I’ll have to bleach her hair first for that, but the colour will be much brighter.”
Amira shook her head. “You are not bleaching my sister’s hair without getting my mother’s permission.”
“Can you ask her?” he asked.
Zahra’s phone was in her hand immediately. “I’m texting Mum. I know she’ll say yes . . . Olivia dyed her hair purple and Mum said it looked cute.”
After a few texts back and forth, Mum texted Amira for more information. Eventually they had the approval. Mum was happy a real stylist was doing it, unlike Olivia’s botched job. She also probably wanted to cheer Zahra up a bit. Hopefully Zahra wouldn’t discover she could get whatever she wanted from any of them tonight.
An hour and a half later, Zahra was as happy as a frolicking unicorn in a meadow, with wide pink streaks in hair that Travis had blow-dried straight.
“I love it!” she said, hugging him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! It’s better than Olivia’s. I look amazing!”
“You look gorgeous, Zahra,” Reena said. “You have to do mine one day, Travis.”
Zahra did look amazing. It brought tears to Amira’s eyes to see how happy her sister was. She looked towards the kitchen, blinking. “How about we get those cupcakes and sticky buns now, Zahra. Can you put them on plates while Travis and I clean up here?”
Zahra bounded towards the kitchen, grinning ear to ear.
“Thank you,” Amira said to Travis as soon as her sister was gone. “You don’t know how happy you’ve made her. Thank you so much.”
He grinned, putting his hair dryer in his tote bag. “I was happy to do it. I needed the distraction. And you should thank all of us. The four of us came up with this idea together. We wanted to put a smile on her face again.”
“Well, it worked. And I’m sure the cupcakes will work, too,” Amira said.
“Those were all Duncan. He left right after you went into your room earlier and came back an hour later with those.”
Amira looked away.
“He’s really sorry, Amira,” Travis said.
“I’m still not exactly sure what happened,” Reena said, confused.
“I’ll tell you in a bit.” She turned to Travis. “You want to stick around and watch a ballet movie with us, or are you guys still rehearsing?”
He shook his head. “No, we’re done. I’ll stay. It’s awkward as all hell down there. Sameer and I are barely speaking, and Duncan’s moping around like a sad puppy. A movie might be just the ticket.” He smiled sadly as he reached back into his tote bag. “I have this, too.” He pulled out a green bottle with a gold-foil-capped cork. “Prosecco. I bought this bottle to celebrate Sameer finally telling his grandmother about me. Tonight we’ll both celebrate our miserable new status as single instead.”
Reena looked back and forth between Travis and Amira. “Single? You and Sameer broke up? Jesus, Amira, it’s only been a day since we spoke! What the hell is going on?”
The ballet movie was terrible. Zahra sat on the floor, close to the TV, away from Amira, Reena, and Travis on the couch, since she’d declared her big sister and her friends had no taste in movies. It was convenient, as it gave Travis and Amira the opportunity to get Reena up to speed on the basement barbershop drama—all over elegant flutes of sparkling wine, sticky buns, popcorn, and cupcakes. Reena’s eyes widened when Amira got to the part about the terrorist accusations, but Amira shook her head slightly, wordlessly letting her friend know she didn’t want to go deeper on this, yet.
“So,” Amira said, turning to Travis with a hushed voice, “things can’t be that bad if you and Sameer are talking today.”
Travis frowned. “We’re trying. We still want to win the competition, but . . . ugh. We’ll be together all day tomorrow, too. Can I recommend not spending two days non-stop with a man you just broke up with?” He paused, watching the film for a few seconds. “But who knows, maybe this’ll make it easier to stay friends after. It will be a slow and painful torture, but I can’t imagine cutting him out
completely. I want Sameer in my life, as a friend.”
“But not more than friends?” Reena asked.
He squeezed his lips together. “No. Not more. I can’t budge on this.” He paused to sip his wine. “I guess it’s a lot like you and Duncan, isn’t it? Sameer and Duncan are not willing to stand up to their families, and we both know we’re too good for that.”
“Maybe, but you and Sameer were together for a year and a half, me and Duncan had three days,” Amira said.
“The past doesn’t matter. We both lost the potential for a future.”
Reena took another cupcake from the tray on the coffee table. They looked delicious, but Amira wouldn’t eat something bought with Duncan’s guilt. The sticky buns were enough.
“There must be a way, Travis,” Reena said. “You two are so perfect together.”
“It’s a lost cause,” he said. “Sameer doesn’t understand why I can’t wait anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I totally understand his struggle, and I’m honestly not forcing him to be out if he’s not ready. I just . . . it feels like he’s ashamed of me, sometimes.” His eyes closed momentarily before he faced Amira, shoulders squaring. “It’s like you said to Duncan, complacency isn’t enough for me. It may be fine for others to live with secrecy, but it’s not right for me. He won’t even post a picture of us together on social media. He’s always preoccupied with what others will say.” Travis looked towards the door leading to the basement. “He says it should be enough that he loves me, but it’s not. I want more. I deserve more. And he deserves it even more than I do.”
Amira leaned back in her seat and raised her half-empty flute glass. “Here’s to not being anyone’s family secret.” She drained the glass, the cool bubbles tingling on the way down her throat. “I wish there was a way to make it okay for you, though.”
“Yeah,” Reena said. “I can’t believe Sameer’s family would be so rude about this. No one in my family gave two shits when my cousin Marley told us she’s bi. Except my mother. But then, my mother thinks bare shoulders are an affront to humanity, so . . .” Reena drained her glass. “Poor quartet. Is Barrington happy at least?”
