by Jae
“No,” Laleh said. “It must have been the defibrillation. Somehow, being hit by the same charge must have synchronized our brains or something.”
“I wonder what would happen if we got zapped a second time,” Hope mused out loud. “Would that throw our brains out of sync?”
Laleh sucked in an audible breath. “Are you so desperate to get rid of this link that you’d risk something like that?”
“No, of course not. I wasn’t seriously considering using a defibrillator on us. I’m just wondering where to go from here.”
“Maybe it will go away on its own,” Laleh said.
Hope sat up and leaned against the headboard. “Maybe. But sitting around, waiting and doing nothing has never been my strong suit.”
“Do you really think what we’re experiencing is so bad that we need to do something to reverse it?” Laleh asked quietly. She sounded a little hurt. “I mean, other than me not being able to watch Grey’s Anatomy without cringing anymore, our connection doesn’t seem to have any disadvantages,” she added in a more humorous tone.
Disadvantages… No, there hadn’t been any, at least nothing she could put her finger on. But the experience still left her feeling uneasy. “I guess I just like being the master of my own brain.”
“That control thing again, huh?”
Hope could nearly see the affectionate smile on Laleh’s face. It took the sting out of what would have otherwise made her defensive. “Yeah. When I was a child, I had very little control over anything, so now it’s important to me.”
“Isn’t that the case for most kids?” Laleh asked.
“Probably. But it was different for me. I was… I grew up in foster care, and I got shuffled around without having a say in where I lived or who I shared a room with.” Hope snapped her mouth shut. Had she really just said that? Normally, she avoided talking about her past. She hadn’t even told Jordan or any of her exes about growing up in foster care. Maybe sharing it with Laleh felt so natural because they shared so much of their knowledge already.
Laleh was silent for a while, as if sensing the importance of what Hope had revealed. Or maybe she was thinking about whether she should ask Hope about her parents. In the end, she didn’t. “I get it,” she said quietly. “And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this situation easier on you.”
“Thank you.” Hope fell silent, not knowing what else there was to say. Part of her already felt as if she’d said too much, revealed too much of herself.
“So, are you flying back tomorrow morning?” Laleh asked, as if sensing Hope’s need to change the topic.
Not that the topic she had chosen was any more pleasant for Hope, but Laleh couldn’t know that. “No. My flight isn’t until eight in the evening. There’s something I need to do before I fly home.”
“Why don’t you call me once you’re back? My parents have already asked me twice about when you’ll come over for dinner.”
At the mention of food, Hope’s stomach let out a hearty growl.
Laleh laughed. “Was that your stomach?”
“Uh, yeah.” Hope pressed her free hand to her belly.
“Don’t they feed you at these fancy medical conferences?”
“There was a buffet at noon, but I haven’t had dinner yet.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Laleh said. “Go eat!”
Hope had to laugh. “Aye-aye, ma’am.”
They were both silent for a moment.
“Safe travels,” Laleh finally said. “And good luck with whatever it is you have to do tomorrow.”
A lump formed in Hope’s throat, and she swallowed to force it down so she could speak. “Thanks. Take care.”
“You too.” In the background, someone called for Laleh. “Good night.”
Then she was gone.
Phone still in her hand, Hope lay on the bed for a minute longer before swinging her feet to the floor. “Food it is,” she murmured. If she was lucky, the hotel staff might be able to point her to a Persian restaurant. She was in the mood for some comfort food.
* * *
Hope parked her rental car outside the wrought-iron fence and sat there for a moment, staring through the bars. She jingled the key in the ignition, tempted to turn the engine back on and drive straight to the airport. Come on. You can do it. March up that hill, leave the flowers, get out. There’s nothing to it.
Slowly, she got out of the car and closed the driver’s side door with a soft click, not her usual energetic slam. The tissue paper around the flowers crinkled as she clutched the bouquet with a sweaty hand. The purple tulips—her mother’s favorite—made her think of Laleh for a moment.
Laleh would be able to do this; Hope knew that without a doubt. In fact, if she lived in the area, she would probably be here every Sunday, a gaggle of relatives in tow.
But without any family members to support her, Hope hadn’t been here much. Instead, she’d tried to move on and deal with the reality of life on her own.
She took a steadying breath and stepped through the gate of the cemetery. Everything still looked exactly as she remembered. The gravel path was dappled with patches of sunlight filtering through the trees. Her gaze zeroed in on an old oak, which was surrounded by a carpet of red, golden, and orange leaves. She wanted to hide behind its thick trunk, as she’d done the day of the funeral, but she was grown up now. Adults didn’t hide.
She followed the path up the hill and then turned left. Her steps became slower and slower as she drew closer. Finally, she stopped at the third grave on the right.
Dry leaves had piled up, partially hiding the name on the stone.
Hope knelt down and brushed the leaves away with her free hand. Her fingers, usually so steady during even the most difficult medical procedures, trembled as she reached out and traced the engraved letters.
Donna M. Finlay
Beloved mother
1960-1993
She stared at the name until it began to blur before her eyes. Mainly for something to do, she unwrapped the tulips and placed them on the ground in front of the headstone. She traced one of the purple petals with the tip of her index finger.
Should she say something? But what? It wasn’t as if her mother could hear her, was it? Only a few days ago, she had told Laleh that she didn’t believe in near-death experiences or an afterlife.
Laleh did, though.
She glanced left and right. The cemetery was empty, so no one would hear her. Should she…?
A gust of cool wind swept through the cemetery, swirling the leaves around the grave and brushing her cheek like a caress. A shiver skated down Hope’s spine. It was like an answer to her silent question.
Oh, please. You don’t believe in stuff like that, remember? But she hadn’t believed it possible for her to suddenly speak Farsi and have access to another person’s knowledge either, and yet it had happened.
What the heck. Can’t hurt, right? She cleared her throat. “Hi, Mom.” She’d thought she would feel foolish talking to a person who was no longer there. And she did, at least a little. But that paled in comparison to the grief, sadness, and anger that rose up in her, lodging in her chest until she could barely breathe. She struggled to force out the words. “I know it’s been a long time since I’ve been here.” Her voice became smaller with every word. “But…I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.” Her throat, her eyes, the inside of her nose…everything burned.
Christ, she was crying! Hope wiped her cheeks and then stared at the dampness on her fingertips. She’d cried at the funeral when she’d been eight, her face pressed to the rough bark of the oak, but never afterward, not even when she’d had to leave her first foster family because their “circumstances had changed,” whatever that meant. She’d learned to keep everything shut up inside and not bond with people too closely because those bonds never lasted.
Roughly, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and snorted through her tears. How ironic that she of all people was now connected to another per
son, without being able to shut her out.
She touched her mother’s name again. “I miss you. I miss your smiley-face pancakes. I miss the way you could make me laugh even when the chemo made you sick.”
All these years, she hadn’t allowed herself to linger on thoughts like those, but once she had started, all the little things she missed about her mother poured out of her. More tears came, but this time, she didn’t wipe them away. Laleh hadn’t been too proud or too embarrassed to cry last Wednesday either. You’ve got no reason to apologize, she had told Laleh then.
“I think you’d get a good laugh out of this weird mind-meld situation, Mom.” With one hand on the cold stone, she told her mother everything that had happened since her little resuscitation mishap.
She didn’t know how much time had passed, but by the time she finished, her tears had dried and the sun had started to set. Hope glanced at her watch. Shit. If she didn’t hurry, she’d miss her flight home.
She got up and brushed a few leaves from her pants. Stepping backward, she took in the gravestone and the tulips in front of it one last time. “Thanks for listening.” She wasn’t sure if she’d be back, but she was glad she had come.
Leaves swirled around her as she threw one last glance back and then hurried along the gravel path to her rental car.
* * *
Laleh set the koobideh kabob and the shirin polo in front of her guests at table three and smiled at the young couple. “Here you go. Noosh-e jan—enjoy your meal. And let me know if you need anything else.”
As she stepped away from the table, a wave of sadness hit her out of nowhere. Her smile died away.
Where the heck was this coming from? She had been fine a second ago. A little unsettled maybe, as she’d been all day, for some reason feeling the way she did before a dentist visit. But she’d pushed that anxiety away. There was nothing on her schedule that would explain this feeling of dread—quite the opposite. She was looking forward to getting home, putting her feet up, and watching a movie. Now not even the thought of a bubble bath and a glass of wine could cheer her up.
She trudged to the kitchen.
Aunt Nasrin looked up from the appetizer platter she was arranging. “What’s going on with you, Laleh joon? You look like the guests just spat in the shirin polo.”
“I’m fine,” Laleh said, but her voice quivered and she had to fight back tears.
Her aunt put the dolmeh down, rounded the counter, and took Laleh’s face between her hands to study her. “Oh, Laleh joon. I know exactly what’s going on.”
“You do?” Great, because I don’t have a clue.
“Of course.” Ammeh Nasrin pulled her into a warm embrace. “That young couple at table three…” She pointed over Laleh’s shoulder. “I saw them come in. They are so obviously in love that it made you realize how lonely you are. We really need to introduce you to some nice young men.”
“No, that’s not it.” Or was it? Laleh tried to pinpoint the emotions weighing her down. Longing and loneliness were definitely part of the mix. Did she really miss being in a relationship so much?
The memory of leaning her face against Hope’s shoulder came back to her, the way it had felt to press her cheek against someone’s warm body.
Maybe she was lonely and just hadn’t realized it. That heavy feeling in her chest wouldn’t go away, no matter how close her aunt held her.
“If that’s not it, what’s wrong?” Aunt Nasrin asked.
Good question. Tears burned in her eyes. Jeez, she wasn’t usually so weepy, but now she was nearly crying for the second time this week, this time for no good reason at all. Unless… She tried to calculate how long it had been since her last period. Was it really that time of the month already? It had to be, right? What else could cause such mood swings?
Aunt Nasrin’s eyes widened. She let go of Laleh and stared at her. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
“What? No!” Admittedly, there had been some strange things going on with her lately, but unless a major miracle had happened, she could rule that out with certainty. “Just a touch of PMS, I think.”
“Oh.” Aunt Nasrin smiled knowingly. “Sit down. I’ll make you some tea.”
“But there are guests waiting.”
“Sit down,” her aunt repeated. “They won’t starve just because you’re taking a break.”
Laleh plopped down onto a stool in the corner of the kitchen. By the time she’d finished sipping her chai, the sadness that had gripped her slowly faded away. It wasn’t entirely gone, but it no longer overwhelmed her. She felt raw and spent, somewhat the way she had felt after crying in Hope’s arms.
Hope… For a moment, Laleh wondered how she was doing. Hopefully better than she was.
Her aunt abandoned her pots once again, came over, and stroked Laleh’s back. “Are you feeling any better?”
Laleh put her tea glass down and slid from the stool. “Much better, thanks.”
“See?” Aunt Nasrin gave her a broad smile. “Not much that a nice hug and a good glass of tea can’t cure.”
“Yeah.” Still a little shaken, Laleh took the appetizer platter her aunt had prepared and marched toward the kitchen’s swinging doors.
CHAPTER 11
By Wednesday, Laleh still hadn’t heard from Hope. Had she changed her mind about accepting the dinner invitation?
But Laleh sensed that something else was going on. Maybe Hope was slammed at work, now that she was back from the conference.
She flopped down on the couch and flicked through the channels, but nothing captured her attention. Her thoughts kept returning to Hope. Since they had met outside of the hospital for the first time three weeks ago, this was the first Wednesday she hadn’t seen Hope or at least heard from her. Was everything okay with her?
She peeked over at her cell phone on the coffee table. You could call her and find out. Phones work both ways, you know?
Finally, she sat up, reached for the phone, and selected Hope’s number from her contact list.
It rang and rang. Just when she thought the call would go to voice mail, Hope answered. “Yeah?”
“Hi, Hope. This is Laleh.”
“Hi. Sorry I didn’t call. It’s been one of those weeks. Are you calling to see if I’m still alive?”
Laleh chuckled, pleased to hear Hope sound so upbeat. When she’d called her from Boston, she’d seemed a little tense. “Something like that.”
A honking sound filtered through the line.
“Are you driving?” Laleh asked.
“Yes. I’m on my way home from work.”
Laleh glanced at the clock on her DVD player. It was half past eight, which meant that Hope had worked overtime. She was definitely working too much. “Oh. Do you want to call me back?”
“No, that’s okay,” Hope said without hesitation. “I’ve got Bluetooth. Besides, we emergency physicians are very good at multitasking.”
“Yeah, well, you weren’t so great at it when you cut yourself trying to dice an onion while you talked to me.”
“That’s different.”
Laleh would have bet money that she’d say that. “How?” she asked in a challenging tone.
“I was distracted by…something,” Hope said.
Laleh wanted to tease her some more, but she still didn’t like the thought of Hope driving while on the phone, so she forced herself to keep it short. “Listen, have you thought about when you’d like to come over to have dinner with my parents? My mother would like to know so she can prepare her gain-five-pounds-within-one-evening feast.”
“Tell her to just pick a day, and I’ll try to make it work.”
“How about…?” Laleh hesitated. Hope had mentioned growing up in foster care. Did that mean she had no family to celebrate Thanksgiving with? Or would Hope think her intrusive if she suggested they spend a day usually reserved for family and loved ones together?
“How about what?” Hope prompted.
Laleh inhaled deeply. “Thanksgiving.”
“Thanksgiving?”
“Yes. That day when you eat so much food you have to go lie flat on your back, moaning uncontrollably.”
Only silence answered; then another car honked. This time, it sounded much closer, as if it was coming from right behind Hope’s car. Had she missed the fact that the traffic light in front of her had turned green?
Hope cleared her throat. “I know what Thanksgiving is, thank you very much. But do you really want to invite me over on that day?”
“Only if you’re not celebrating with someone else,” Laleh said.
“I usually don’t celebrate at all. Most of the time, I volunteer to pull a double shift at the hospital instead.”
“Did you do that this year?”
“No, not yet, but if one of my colleagues asks…”
Laleh shook her head, even though Hope couldn’t see it. “Oh no, that won’t do.” She couldn’t stand the thought of Hope spending Thanksgiving alone or working the entire day so she wouldn’t have to go home to her sterile condo. “You’ll come over and have dinner with us.”
Hope chuckled. “And people say I’m bossy.”
Damn. Was she pressuring Hope into doing something she didn’t want to do? “If you’d rather come over another day…”
“No, it’s okay.” Hope paused as if she had surprised herself by agreeing. “If you’re sure your family doesn’t mind, that is. I don’t want to crash their Thanksgiving dinner. I don’t get off work until seven, even if I don’t work a double shift, so I’d be late to the party.”
“That’s fine. Our Thanksgiving dinners usually last from two in the afternoon until long after midnight, so just come over whenever you can. My parents love having guests. I can’t remember the last time it was only my parents, my brothers, and me at the dinner table.”
“So it’s a big crowd?” Hope sounded a little tentative.
“Not that big. You’ll be fine.” Laleh swung her feet up on the coffee table and wiggled her toes.
