Aside from my thoughts and speech occasionally derailing, I kept my distraction hidden as best I could. She and I were always careful to put on professional faces unless we were absolutely alone. We were science teachers when we were supposed to be, and we were Coach Randall-Mirwani and Coach Bailey when we were supposed to be, and then we went home, and it was sheets and sweat and not getting a single paper graded.
In short, I loved it.
Then, a day or so before school let out for Thanksgiving break, I had an idea that seemed like a good one at the time. Since we were taking steps toward becoming a family of sorts, Shahid and I wanted to gently put Kendra on our extended family’s radars. Let them meet her and get to know her a little so when we eventually had news, the surrogate mother of our hypothetical future baby wouldn’t be a total stranger to any of them.
She’d already met Shahid’s family a few times, but she’d never had the pleasure of a meal with mine. And since her family lived several states away, rather than letting her spend Thanksgiving alone again, I suggested she come along to my parents’ house.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
As mileposts whipped by and the highway took us closer to my hometown, though, I had second thoughts. A lot of second thoughts.
“So.” I cleared my throat. “I should probably warn you about a few things.”
Kendra shot me a look from the passenger seat. “Don’t tell me there’s more than you’ve already told me.”
“Well.” I thought back to the millions of conversations we’d had about my family in the past, and I supposed I’d covered almost all of it.
She put her hand on the door handle. “Would I be wise to leap from a moving vehicle and spare myself?”
I laughed and patted her leg. “No, no. It’s not that bad. Well, my sister is, but—”
“Oh yeah. You’ve told me stories about her.”
“Okay, so I did warn you about her at least. But the thing is, the rest of my family doesn’t get Shahid. At all. And it’s kind of an annual tradition for them to harangue me for everything they think he does.”
“Such as…?”
“Not coming to Thanksgiving, for one.” I rested my hand on the wheel again. “Trust me, you’ll know what I mean when you see it. But if they happen to give you the side-eye for some reason, don’t take it personally. They’re just not used to me showing up with anyone.”
“So, I probably shouldn’t tell them about you bending me over the—”
“No.”
“Or that I can confirm which of you likes to be on top when—”
“No.”
“Or—”
“Kendra…”
She giggled. “I’ll be good, I promise.”
“Yeah.” I shot her a look. “That’ll be the day.”
We both laughed, but then she said, “So, even after all these years, they still have issues with him?”
I nodded. “They do mean well, and they try, but they had a hard enough time when my brother married a Baptist girl. When you’re a dyed-in-the-wool Catholic, inviting an observant Muslim to dinner can be a little…”
“Different?”
“Yes. Different.” The sign for my exit came into view, and my chest tightened. “Well, we’re almost there. If you want to turn back, we—”
“Gabe, relax. As long as they’re not evil, and they’re not trying to hook me up with every available man who hasn’t done prison time, I’ll be fine. Promise.”
“Okay.” I exhaled. “I just, uh, figured I should give you a heads up. That’s all.”
“Fair enough. I’ll be okay.”
You will. Let’s hope I will too.
* * * * *
Most of my family lived within twenty miles of my parents, so everyone else had already arrived by the time I pulled up the long driveway.
The sight of my sister’s red Subaru almost brought a string of curses through my clenched teeth. We’d never really gotten along and had actually stopped speaking for about three years after she’d made some choice remarks about Shahid and 9/11. After our dad’s near-fatal heart attack several years ago, we’d agreed to a tense ceasefire, if only for our parents’ benefit. Our relationship was better now, but I doubted it would ever be great.
Still, our parents wanted the whole family together, so we’d both grit our teeth and get along. Mostly.
In the house, I introduced Kendra around. My mother and sister-in-law were immediately hanging on her every word—my brothers and I had all been married so long that bringing a new female to a family gathering was novel enough to turn heads. Oh, if they only knew.
“Hi, Gabe.”
I turned around. “Hey, Jennifer. Um, how are things?”
“Good. Good.”
“Enjoying married life?”
“Mmhmm.” She nodded past me. “I see you brought a stand-in this year.”
I groaned. Already? “She’s not a stand-in. That’s my best friend, Kendra. Her family lives in another state, so I invited her to join us.”
“And let me guess.” She smirked. “Shahid had to work? Again?”
“Yes. He did. Because ERs don’t close on holidays.”
“Mmhmm. Is he ever going to join us for a holiday?”
“Jennifer.” I forced out a breath. “Can we not do this? Please?”
She glared at me and then sighed. For a moment, I thought she’d drop the subject, but instead, she turned to Kendra, who had materialized beside me. “Well, just be glad you’re having Thanksgiving here. Shahid’s family probably would’ve made you wear a burqa.”
I silently prayed for the floor to open up and swallow me. “Jennifer, are you—”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not the case,” Kendra said, a hint of a snicker in her voice. “They didn’t make me wear one to their Super Bowl party. In fact, his dad complimented me on my Steelers jersey and face-painting skills.”
My sister scowled.
“His family also doesn’t do Thanksgiving anyway,” I muttered. “They’re Muslim.”
“So they don’t like American holidays?” Jennifer asked.
I pressed my thumb and forefinger into the bridge of my nose. “Seriously? This again?”
“I’m sorry, Gabe. I just do not understand those people.” She clicked her tongue. “We all bend over backwards for him, and he never comes to anything. I mean, I even made sure all the food at my wedding was kosher.”
I groaned again. Kendra snorted, covering her mouth.
“What?” My sister narrowed her eyes. “What’s so funny?”
I managed to keep a straight face, but Kendra wasn’t helping. “Muslims eat halal, not kosher. Kosher is Jewish.”
“Whatever.” She waved her hand. “I made the effort, and he couldn’t even be bothered to show up.”
I looked her in the eye. “Did you really want him there?”
She clenched her teeth. “I wanted the entire family there.”
Of course you did. Because a single unoccupied seat at your reception was an affront.
“He’s sorry he couldn’t make it,” I said quietly. “Circumstances were—”
“Oh, it’s always something with him. He doesn’t come to anything. Not to weddings. Not to holidays. Are Thanksgiving and Christmas really that offensive to him?”
“And Easter, for heaven’s sake?” my grandmother interjected, appearing beside us.
I pinched the bridge of my nose again. “He’s not offended. The holidays aren’t something he celebrates, but he’s also an ER nurse. He has to work. For the last time, he volunteers to work holidays so his coworkers can spend them with their families. In exchange, they cover for him when he works shorter shifts during Ramadan.” I turned to my sister. “And he wanted to attend your wedding, but he was doing his pilgrimage to Mecca. That’s
kind of an important thing.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And my wedding isn’t?”
I sighed. “His grandfather needed to go while he was still in good health. He had a mild stroke earlier in the year, and there were some concerns about him. So it couldn’t exactly wait.”
“Did it have to be that weekend?”
“Yes! They can’t just go whenever they feel like it. There’s a certain time when they go.”
“And he couldn’t have gone any other year?”
I sighed. “Look, Jennifer, I don’t know what you want me to tell you. He felt terrible that he couldn’t go, but he needed—”
“Just like he feels terrible for missing everything else, I’m sure.”
“He actually would like to come to more,” I said. “But we are kind of at the mercy of his work schedule.”
“And his religion,” Jennifer said. “None of us argued when you guys had a Muslim priest officiate your wedding. It’d be nice if Shahid bent a little too.”
Kendra and I exchanged glances. Her eyes were wide with both horror and barely contained amusement.
“Gabriel, Jennifer.” Our mother beckoned to us from the kitchen doorway. “Need both sets of hands in here, please.”
I exhaled. Well, that was as good an interruption as any, and judging by the wink from my mom, it wasn’t accidental.
To Kendra, I said, “I’ll be right back. Do you want me to grab you a drink?”
“Sure.” She smiled, and added in a conspiratorial whisper, “Just nothing alcoholic, remember?”
My heart fluttered, and I couldn’t help smiling. With all the nerves and worry on the way here, I’d actually forgotten why I’d brought Kendra with me in the first place. About the secret kept safely between her, my husband and me, and the gigantic news we might be dropping in the next few weeks or months.
And now I remembered, and it was all I could do not to cup her face and plant a soft kiss on her lips.
Do your worst, Jennifer. You can’t rain on this parade.
* * * * *
My good mood carried me through dinner and the tradition of lounging around and shooting the breeze. Even my sister’s snide comments and brazen ignorance couldn’t drag me back down. After all, I was sitting there beside the woman who was taking my husband’s and my sex life to a whole new level, and who was eventually going to have the child we’d been wanting all this time. When I came for Thanksgiving next year, there was a very good possibility I’d be wrangling a car seat, high chair and all those other inconveniences I looked forward to. Or at the very least, I might be the one breaking some Big News over dinner. Jennifer was exhausting, but nothing could stop me from smiling every time I looked at Kendra.
Still, good mood or no, I was exhausted by the time we left. Though it was a three-hour drive, we decided against staying overnight, and after we’d said good-bye to my family, headed out.
We weren’t even out of the driveway before Kendra had to smother a laugh. “I thought you were exaggerating. They don’t get him at all, do they?”
“No. I mean, they try. They really do.” I paused. “Aside from Jennifer. She thinks she’s trying, but she doesn’t even know the difference between halal and kosher.”
“Do many people?”
“Well, okay. But he’s actually explained halal to her more than once, so she doesn’t have an excuse. And she knows damn well Muslims don’t have priests.”
“Jesus.” Kendra shook her head. “So, does she not care, or—”
I tapped my nails on the wheel. “A long time ago, she dated a guy who had a huge problem with Muslims.” I rolled my eyes. “I mean, she’ll tell you now that the guy was a racist, sexist asshole, but for some reason, everything he said about Arabs and Muslims is still valid.”
“Of course.”
“At least everyone else in the family tries. Maybe if we all lived closer and they saw him more often, it’d be easier, but between the distance and his work schedule, they only see him maybe once or twice a year. So they’ve never really gotten to know him. When they do see him, there are sometimes…misunderstandings.” I chuckled. “You should’ve seen it the first time we had the Fourth of July at my brother’s house after we started dating.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. It was during Ramadan, so Shahid couldn’t eat until sundown. Even though I carefully explained that to everyone, my sister-in-law’s father got drunk and decided Shahid was being rude, insulting his barbecuing, trying to fuck with a patriotic holiday, and… God, I don’t even remember most of it. He threw an absolute fit. I’m not joking—if you can imagine an Islamophobic slur, he used it at least twice.”
Kendra’s eyes got huge. “Tell me someone put him in his place.”
“My sister-in-law did her best, and she apologized profusely to Shahid, but I mean, the guy was drunk. What can you do?” I rolled my eyes. “So then when the sun had gone down, he brought Shahid a beer and a hot dog and told him he had no more excuses to sit there without eating.”
Kendra cringed. “Aren’t hot dogs made of—”
“Yep.”
“And Shahid doesn’t drink—”
“Nope.”
She snorted. “Oh Lord. I can just imagine him explaining that to a drunk asshole.”
“My brother still laughs about how the biggest fireworks that night weren’t out on the road where the kids were popping off firecrackers.”
“Does Shahid laugh about it?”
I shrugged. “He didn’t at the time, but he does now. Kind of. He’s used to a certain level of bullshit because of his religion and because he’s Middle Eastern. He gets it all the time at work. So much that it’s become a running joke. He never says anything, but I think if he could get just one group of people to get off his back about it, it would be my family.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.” I pressed back against the headrest and sighed. “It’s funny, but it’s exhausting too. As if I enjoy not being able to spend holidays with my husband, and then my family has to give me shit on top of it.”
“What do you think they’ll say when you tell them you and Shahid are going to raise the baby Catholic and Muslim?”
My heart stopped. “Oh God.”
Kendra reached over the console and squeezed my leg. “On the other hand, maybe that’s something to keep between all of us.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” I grimaced. “But the baptism situation could get complicated.”
“Oy. I can imagine.” She paused. “You know, I think I’m kinda getting the easier end of the deal here.”
I glanced at her. “Yeah? How’s that?”
“You and Shahid have to navigate all the religious topics and try to explain all this to your families.” She laughed. “All I have to do is get through pregnancy and childbirth.”
I shot her an incredulous look and then shook my head and chuckled.
“You’re probably right—it will be less painful for you.”
Chapter Sixteen
Kendra
Gabe was quiet for most of the drive home. Elbow pressed against the window, head resting against his hand, other hand white-knuckling the wheel. We shot the breeze as we headed up the interstate, and I dozed off for a little while, but Gabe never quite relaxed. Even as we neared our town, almost three hours after leaving his parents’ place, he was still wound up, tense from his furrowed brow to his rigid shoulders.
“You all right?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He exhaled hard. “I really am sorry you had to be subjected to all that.”
“You did warn me. And I think it was more you being subjected to it than me. I just stood on the sidelines and watched in horror.”
He laughed but didn’t sound like he really felt it. “Still. Thanks for the company. Even after all this time, I still feel kind of weird going to family
gatherings by myself.”
“I can understand that. But hey, look on the bright side—at least your family isn’t trying to hook you up with every set of testicles within a fifty-mile radius.”
“Oh God.” He rolled his eyes. “They’re still on your back about that?”
“Yep. And I’ll probably hear about this on Christmas. Spending Thanksgiving ‘with a friend’ is going to translate to my mother as ‘meeting a potential suitor’s family.’”
“That should make things…awkward.”
“Uh-huh.” I scowled. “They’re already on my back about not having kids, so…”
Gabe laughed. “Aren’t they in for a surprise?”
“Right?” I shook my head. “Explaining our situation will be fun when that time comes.” I watched the other lane’s headlights illuminating his sharp features. “I can imagine it’s going to be fun to explain to your side too.”
“Yeah.” He tapped his thumbs on the wheel. “Can’t wait.” Then he shrugged. “Honestly, I think they’ll be so excited about a new baby, they’ll forget about the…uh…”
“Maybe. I’m guessing at least one faction won’t forget about a few things relating to Shahid.”
Gabe cringed. “No, probably not.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Honestly, they really are good people. And I know they mean well.” He frowned. “They’re just taking their sweet time about understanding Shahid.” He paused. “I guess I should be thankful for the small things, though. They don’t act like he’s a terrorist.”
“Have they ever…”
Gabe shook his head. “No. They don’t know much about Islam, but they get that not all Muslims are terrorists. Just don’t ever tell him that my dad was only okay with him after he found out Shahid was from Pakistan and not Iran or something.”
“Seriously?”
“Mmhmm. Never mind the fact that he’s been in the States since he was four.” He exhaled sharply. “Now if they could get over the fact that his religion means Christmas and Thanksgiving aren’t actually holidays, we’d be in good shape.”
“Sounds like his job doesn’t help much.” I watched him for a moment, studying his taut features as the streetlights blinked past. “Do you think Shahid would go to things like this if he wasn’t working?”
The Best Laid Plans Page 12
