by Farah Heron
“Have you spoken to him?” she asked, not needing to reveal who she meant.
“Yeah,” Travis said. “Lots. He feels terrible about what happened.”
Amira dug her fingernail into the cardboard coaster under her drink. She didn’t want to talk about Duncan. She bit her lip.
Travis smiled sympathetically, understanding this was a topic Amira wasn’t ready for. “When are you going back to work?” he asked, not realizing that was another topic Amira wasn’t keen on discussing.
She paused, then smiled sadly. “I’m not. I resigned.”
Sameer looked at her. “Crap. Really? Because of your mentor?”
“Yes, in part. Let’s just say I’m not interested in ass-kissing to try and weasel my way into a club that wouldn’t let me in anyway. Hyde is more toxic than it used to be.”
Travis wrinkled his nose. “So, you just up and quit?”
She nodded. “Maybe it’s time for a fresh start. A new Amira.”
“That’s big, though,” Sameer said. “What will you do now?”
Amira smiled. “I’ll be okay. I have an amazing letter of recommendation from my professor and she had some job leads for me. I have an interview next week with a friend of my dad’s who owns a small consulting firm that specializes in noise control. And I’ve applied to a lot of jobs at manufacturing plants outside Toronto.”
“You’d leave the city?” Travis asked.
Amira shrugged. “I’m thinking about it. It’s a good time for a change. Things are kind of unsettled at home, maybe it’s time to move out. But I can’t afford to live alone in Toronto.” She cringed. “I’m not sure roommates are a great idea. I’ve applied for positions in Waterloo, Windsor, and Peterborough.”
Sameer raised his eyebrows. “Peterborough?”
Amira reddened. “I know Duncan lives near there, but that’s not why I applied. It’s a good job . . .”
“Still, though,” Sameer said, glancing at Travis.
Travis only smiled. “He’ll be here Sunday,” he added.
That wasn’t a surprise. Why wouldn’t Duncan drive an hour and a half into the city to see his friends sing? Loyalty . . . that was his thing.
Amira poked another hole in the cardboard coaster. She wasn’t sure she was ready to see him again. Eventually, their paths would have to cross if she was going to stay friends with Sameer and Travis, but she wished she could have more time to figure out her life first. Things had already been so emotionally intense lately with the work and family crap going on, but even through all that, Duncan-fucking-Galahad was never far from the front of her conscious mind. It shouldn’t have been that way. Duncan should have been nothing but a memory.
Amira had met with Professor Kennedy on schedule a week after she submitted the report and quite literally dropped to her knees with relief when her professor said it was accepted and granted her the credits. She still had bruises after that less-than-intelligent reaction. She chatted briefly with her professor about having quit her job and why. And while Professor Kennedy didn’t flat-out tell Amira that she had done the right thing, she did give sage advice about watching your own back as a woman in the industry and avoiding situations where you didn’t have someone on your side. Professor Kennedy said she would be happy to look out for appropriate opportunities for Amira and give her any references she needed. “Women in STEM need to stick together,” Professor Kennedy had said with a smile.
Her convocation ceremony was next week, when she would proudly accept her master’s degree in front of both her parents, her sister, and her grandmother. Amira had done it. She’d finished graduate school and she was so proud of herself. But predictably, Amira wasn’t happy. Also predictably, she was utterly furious about that.
How the hell had someone like Duncan Galahad—a garden gnome, a snarky, overprotective, white-knighting bearded wonder—wormed his way so deep under her skin that she couldn’t enjoy reaching a milestone she had worked so hard for? He and his xenophobic family had stolen her joy.
Xenophobic was the worst name she allowed herself to call Ryan in her inner dialogue since the competition, and that had been a challenge. Her choice thoughts about him on the days immediately after seeing him would have made a longshoreman blush.
No. She was bigger than him. Better. She wouldn’t resort to name-calling, even in her head. She had no doubt that Ryan called her every name in that blushing longshoreman’s dictionary, though, and she didn’t care one dime about that.
But wondering what Duncan thought of her stole too many of the hours when she should have been sleeping each night, leaving her groggy in the morning and short-tempered during the day. Did he think she was out of line for yelling at his brother? Did he see her point of view at all? Had she explained why she was upset clearly enough to make him get it?
And now she would have to see him again in two days while she was still spinning from their last encounter. She’d have liked to have waited until she could get through a day without thinking about him. Screw a day, she would be happy with an hour.
“The whole A-Team will be singing together again. In person,” Travis said.
“I thought you said only two members of Fourth Fret were sick?”
“Yeah, but they asked all four of us to join them. We will be the rare barbershop sextet.”
Amira wrinkled her nose. “Sextet? That’s terrible. Sounds kinky.”
Travis laughed. “Yeah, I can see why they normally keep to four in a barbershop group. Still going to come?”
Amira looked down at the mutilated remains of the cardboard coaster. She raked the mound of shredded paper over the wood of the table, making a small pile of red and white while thinking about what to do. It wasn’t just herself she had to consider, but Zahra, too. She hadn’t mentioned Maddie or Duncan once since the guys left, but Amira knew her sister. Zahra also hadn’t said anything about ballet and she even shot down her mother’s offer of signing her up for a ballet class next year. Zahra wasn’t over her new friend’s betrayal.
“You two won’t be able to avoid each other forever,” Travis said. “We’re going to have a huge wedding and we want both of you in the wedding party.”
“What? But I’ve only known you for, like, what, a month? I can’t be in your wedding party!”
Sameer laughed. “We used to hang out when I was a baby, remember? And anyway, we wouldn’t be engaged if it wasn’t for you. That day before the competition, when you told off Duncan . . . you inspired me. By not coming out and living the life I wanted to live, I was excusing all of them. That night, I thought to myself, What would Amira do? And I came up with the song idea. You don’t know how much you helped me.” He grinned.
Amira frowned. “I wouldn’t have done that. I have a terrible singing voice! And stage fright.”
He laughed. “Fine. Will you be my grooms-maid anyway?”
“Is that a thing? Grooms-maid?”
“Travis gets to have one: Justine. So I get one, too. Right now we’re fighting over who gets Barry and who gets Duncan.”
“I’m thinking we’ll play musical attendants. They can switch sides for every picture,” Travis said.
Amira gave them a pointed look. “Also, musical because you’re making the wedding party sing, right?”
Travis nodded. “You’d better believe it.”
She frowned. “You guys really want to have a big wedding?”
“Yup. Huge.” Travis smiled. “We know everyone in Ottawa, and we both have enormous extended families. We’re going to invite all of them. Let them decide if they want to show up, but we’re not hiding anything. Like I said to you earlier, we’re going to normalize this shit.”
Amira smiled. “Well, I’d be honoured to be included. Even if I have to march down the aisle with the garden gnome himself.” She paused. “I’ll need vocal lessons.”
Travis smiled. “I know a music teacher. Will you come Sunday?”
“You really want me to come that much?”
“Ye
s, of course!” Travis groaned. “We’re Amira’s team, remember?”
“We didn’t have to tell you Duncan was coming,” Sameer added. “We could have lied to get you to see him.”
“But you didn’t,” Amira said.
“No,” Sameer said. “He wants to see you, Amira. He wants to talk to you about what happened. I’m not excusing him, but I think you need to hear what he has to say. There’s more to this than you know.”
She sighed. She couldn’t avoid him forever. And maybe this was the best place to get the damn meeting over with—in public and with her friends. If she wanted to avoid Zahra hearing the conversation, she could get one of the guys to hang out with her for a bit.
“Ugh. Fine. I’ll come. Tell your garden gnome I’ll see him at the busker festival.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
ON SUNDAY, WITH two hours left before she and Zahra planned to head downtown to see the A-Team at the festival, Amira sat on her bed in her underwear, trying to decide what to wear.
A sundress? It was warm enough . . . but . . . would Duncan think she was dressing up just for him?
Jeans? Maybe . . . but Duncan saw her in jeans all the time when he was here. Jeans wouldn’t make much of an impression.
This was ridiculous. She was overthinking this. Tied up in knots at the thought of seeing him again. She had second-guessed going to this festival so many times she practically had whiplash. But both Sameer and Travis texted her several times to make sure she would show up, so she didn’t think she could get out of it at this point. Plus, Zahra was looking forward to it.
She finally decided to get her sister’s wardrobe advice. Zahra was young, but no one in the house could match her fashion sense. Amira threw on her furry purple bathrobe and headed out of her room to find her sister. But strangely, she found Zahra standing in the basement kitchen.
With Duncan.
Duncan Galahad was in her house. Breathing her air. Taking up so much space, just like he always had.
“Amira!” Zahra said. “Look, Duncan brought me a ukulele!”
Amira tore her gaze from the red beard in the room to see her sister was, indeed, holding a ukulele. A pink, shiny ukulele.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Amira said to him, barely hearing her own voice over her loudly beating heart.
He looked at Amira, those wide green eyes intense, and without their usual confidence. “I was telling Zahra . . . before . . . I teach kids her age to play the uke. She seemed interested. I have some beginner books here she can learn from, or . . .” His voice trailed off as he awkwardly handed her a small stack of slim music books. Amira took them and placed them on the kitchen counter. A peace offering? Had he brought Zahra a gift to impress Amira?
He looked at Amira, gaze meeting hers. No sparkle of mischief like the day she met him.
“Can I go across the street and show this to Olivia?” Zahra asked. “She has one, too.”
“Sure, Squish. Let Nanima know you’re going. We’re leaving in a couple of hours, okay?” Amira said as her sister was already on her way up the stairs. She looked at Duncan. “Thank you. I’m sure Zahra will enjoy the ukulele.”
“It’s no problem.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I just got into town. I drove down for a show later today.”
“I know. Zahra and I are coming to watch you guys.”
“Yeah, Sameer told me. But . . . can we talk first? I can wait while you change.”
Amira was still frozen in place, mesmerized by the man in her kitchen. She had expected this conversation to happen in public, after their performance and after she had acclimated herself to being in his presence again. And after she had put some clothes on would have been nice, too.
But he was here now. And maybe it was a good idea to get this difficult talk over with before the sextet performed at the busker festival. Sextet . . . god, that sounded so wrong.
She peeled her focus away from his face to look at the rest of Duncan. Dressed in a simple grey T-shirt and jeans, he looked both exactly the same and completely different than the last time she saw him. He looked good. Really good. It was amazing what warmer weather could do for a Canadian’s aesthetic appeal. She liked his forearms and biceps on full display. Her gaze swept back to his face and she finally put her finger on what was different.
“Your beard.”
He instinctively rubbed the red hairs on his chin. “What about it?”
“It’s less . . . bushy. And a lot shorter.”
“It’s my summer look. Travis is going to kill me for changing it before a show, but it was getting too damn hot. So, can we talk?”
Amira tensed. “Fine. Let’s go sit.” She walked into the family room.
Duncan followed her. “Don’t you need to change?”
She looked down at the bulky floor-length robe. This monstrosity covered more of her than the sundress she was thinking of wearing. And now that he was here, retreating to her room, even just to change, would lead to overthinking. She wanted to get this over with. “No, it’s fine. Sit.” Amira took the oversized armchair, watching as Duncan perched tensely on the couch.
“Okay . . .” He ran his hand over the back of his neck. “This is tough . . .”
“I won’t bite your head off.”
“I know. I owe you an apology. And an explanation,” he said.
“Okay,” Amira said, fighting to keep her expression neutral. “Go ahead.”
He folded his hands in his lap. “Since I left Toronto, I’ve done a lot of thinking about everything you said to me and Ryan that day, and . . . you were right. All of it. Even though I don’t have an issue with you being a Muslim, by not taking a stand against my family and by excusing them, I was just as bad. I’m really sorry. I should have told you about my family before I introduced you, or Zahra, to them. Before I even got involved with you. You deserved honesty from me. But”—he paused—“I never told you why I stay with Ryan and Maddie.”
“To help with her, right?”
“Yes. But there is a reason Ryan needs help.” He rubbed his hand over his beard. “I did teachers college here in Toronto, and I had every intention of staying in the city when I was done. Jobs are scarce at home, and there was so much more . . . life here. A couple of months before I was done school, my dad called from Omemee to tell me Ryan and Shay went on a bender. Ryan was in jail, and they didn’t know where Shay or Maddie were.”
Amira’s hand shot to her mouth. “Oh my god.”
He looked down. “I told you Maddie’s mom, Shayna, was a drug addict, but what I didn’t make clear is that my brother was actually worse than her back then. They’d been good since Maddie was born and we were optimistic they’d put it behind them for the sake of the baby, but something happened that night. They relapsed, hard. Ryan was arrested, high as a kite, after they destroyed some cars, but Shay disappeared with the baby. Dad thought she may have ended up in Toronto, and he was able to get Ryan to give us some names of her friends in the city when he sobered the next day.”
“Oh, Duncan. I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “It took me four days to find them. They were in this grimy little apartment. Really, a barely converted garage. Shay had bruises on her arms and legs and open sores on her face. The place smelled like vomit, and there were diapers and formula everywhere. Probably stolen. Shay wasn’t wearing a shirt when I walked in—and she was trying to nurse Maddie.”
Amira’s heart sank. “How old was Maddie?”
“Maybe five months old? I took the baby from her arms and Shay didn’t stop me. I think she may have thought I was Ryan. But she was too high to do anything. There was a half-naked man passed out on the bed beside her.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. It was a hell of a scene. I should have called the cops, but . . . instead, I walked Maddie to the nearest hospital. She seemed fine, a little dehydrated, but luckily her responses were normal. She happily drank two bottles of formula in the emergency room. They released her into my
care after I said I would take her back to Omemee to my parents, but it was the middle of the night. I took her by bus back to my bachelor apartment with the formula and diapers they gave me at the hospital. I stayed up all night with that baby. She cried a bit. I learned how to give her a bottle and change a diaper. Google was my friend. I promised her—no matter what happened—I would always be her uncle Duncan, and I would always do right by her. My parents drove down the next day to pick her up. They were eventually granted custody. They had her until she was three. Ryan got custody back after he went to rehab and had been clean two years.”
“Wow.” She had known Maddie’s mother was a sore spot for Duncan, but Amira never imagined it had been this bad. Amira’s heart clenched. Poor Maddie.
“One of the reasons Ryan was granted full custody was because I was living with him, and our parents were nearby. We all testified we intended to play an active role in her life and help Ryan with her. We’ve all rallied together to raise that girl. Ryan’s good now, he’s been clean for years, but, I don’t know . . . I worry. He relapsed before. Maddie needed stability in her life, and I was determined that the crazy liberal musician uncle was going to be it.”
Considering the lengths Amira was willing to go to when her sister was hurting, she now understood Duncan’s devotion to Maddie. “So, you stayed there to protect her.”
“Yeah. I knew my family was conservative, and a bit racist. But . . .” He looked down. “I didn’t really think it was a big deal. What you said that day—that to me, it was just politics—you were right. My family had been through a lot, and yeah, maybe sometimes I didn’t want to rock the boat with Ryan, but . . . it was just an abstract thing, you know? They didn’t like Muslims, or immigrants, or gay people, but I wasn’t like them. It was fine, a lot of families have different politics.”
“But this isn’t just politics, it’s hatred,” Amira said. “You get that being a recovering addict is not an excuse for racism, right?”
Duncan cringed. “I know. Ryan and I don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, but I had no idea he was this bad. I didn’t know about his online stuff. He never says that extreme crap to me. Probably because he knows I’d rip him a new one if he did.”
