The Name of Red

by Beena Khan

  “What’s your favorite genre?” he asked.

  “Primarily general and literary fiction. I’m not the biggest fan of romance novels. They’re kinda cheesy.” Elif grimaced at the word romance.

  He was taken back. “Why not?”

  She glanced at him and asked, “Do you think because I’m a woman, I should like romance novels?”

  He shook his head and said, “Well, no.”

  “Then?” she asked.

  He was getting flustered at her questions. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out so he closed it. He looked up and noticed her smile.

  She likes seeing me squirm.

  “You blush a lot,” she commented.

  That’s the second time she’d said that.

  He ran his hand through his silky hair. Her eyes followed his movement. After a few seconds, he asked, “Who’s your favorite author?”

  Elif sighed and looked away. “They’re so many to choose from. I like Jane Austen, Arthur Golden, Khaled Hosseini, Nadia Hashmi, Chuck Palahniuk, and Gillian Flynn.”

  He made a mental note to himself to find similar books she liked. He liked Gillian Flynn and Khaled Hosseini too.

  She turned her face toward his, and asked in return, “Who’s your favorite author?”

  “I like Stephen King, James Patterson, and Jodi Picoult,” he replied. He continued to ask, “What is one book that you will remember forever?”

  Elif pondered in thought. “The Alchemist.”

  She likes classics, Kabir thought.

  “What about you?”

  “The Thirteenth Tale,” he replied.

  Elif grinned up at him. She asked, “Do you read romance books?”

  It’s as if she purposefully wanted to bring the previous conversation up again.

  He regretted asking her questions on romance novels. Kabir didn't want to answer her and ordered a virgin pina colada for himself instead. He did read romance novels secretly, but he didn't want to admit it in front of Elif.

  Elif stared at Kabir.

  He reads romance novels, but he’s not telling me, she thought. She tried to hide her smile as she resumed drinking.

  After a few minutes, Elif attempted to bring romance novels up again, but he wouldn’t budge with his response.

  “Do you like Nora Roberts?” she asked him, her body turning toward him.

  She noticed his eyes dropped unintentionally to her cleavage that was exposed. His cheeks colored and then he looked away. His cheeks looked like the blush of roses, and she felt a smile tug her lips. She wasn’t offended, in other situations she would be, but there was something about Kabir that separated him from other people.

  Innocence, perhaps?

  She wanted to laugh at his shy boyhood but didn’t want to embarrass him.

  Kabir glanced up at her shortly and gave her a tight-lipped smile. “No.” Then, he whispered, “Danielle Steel,” before turning around.

  Elif laughed silently as he walked away.

  ❖

  “Do you read E.L James?” Elif asked Kabir one day.

  Kabir shook his head as he took a sip of his Red Bull. “I’ve read her books before, but they’re not my type of romance novels.”

  “Bondage isn’t your kink?”

  He sputtered his drink, astonished at her direct question. He was mortified, as his mouth fell open, before clamping it shut again. He was stunned in silence at her boldness. His cheeks burned hot, and he didn’t know where to hide his face from her sight. His movements were frozen to the spot.

  Did she really just say that out loud? he thought.

  He noticed Elif was suppressing a smile, and she was enjoying his reaction. The sight of him blushing egged her on.

  “You’re very straight forward,” Kabir admitted softly.

  Elif shot him a look of innocence. “I learned from a friend a long time ago to be honest. Life is too short to hold back what you’re thinking,” she replied, the sparkle in her eyes returning.

  Which friend? he wondered.

  Kabir held her gaze feeling nervous.

  She talks like her statements have no effect on people.

  Elif broke eye contact and ordered another drink.

  “Most people would hesitate asking personal questions. If it was a guy asking, many women would get offended,” he said.

  Elif turned to look at him, her eyes squinting as she let his statement sink in. Afterwards, she nodded and replied, “That’s actually true... but, if the statement is genuine, if it doesn’t mean to hurt others, it shouldn’t be unspoken.”

  Kabir thought about that for some time.

  She was right, but maybe she was just too honest, too bold.

  “Yeah, that’s true. But it’s a lot of power. A person who is too honest holds too much power over another person who might be...weaker, who might not know how to react,” he said. He didn’t want to admit he was the weaker sex in the situation and that she was powerful.

  Elif flashed a toothy grin at him. Her eyes sparkled, and he felt his heart skip a beat. “I used to think like that, but then I stopped letting people affect me. Fear holds you back...A great lady, Eleanor Roosevelt, once said, ‘No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.’”

  After some hesitation, Kabir answered her question with some admittance. “No, I don’t like bondage. I’m claustrophobic, and seeing someone tied up makes me nervous.”

  “But you’re not the one being tied up?” Elif asked, surprised.

  He felt his face get warm, and it heated under her gaze. His cheeks reddened at her language, and he was hoping she didn’t notice. He felt as if all of his insecurities were being laid out in front of him as if he was socially incompetent. It wasn’t a feeling he wasn’t used to, but he secretly liked how she talked to him. It was refreshing.

  “Have you ever tried bondage?” Elif asked him.

  She’s so crass, Kabir thought.

  “Your words are traumatizing to me and yeah, once,” he admitted.

  Elif’s eyes warmed and she giggled, covering her mouth with her slim fingers. He noticed she didn’t wear a ring on her finger. His gaze dropped down to the ring on the necklace that was still hanging around her collar.

  He wanted to ask about it, but he wasn’t outspoken like her.

  Instead he asked her a question regarding the original conversation, “Do you like Fifty Shades of Grey?” He didn’t want to go into too many details about his awkward bondage experience.

  She smiled and said, “Nice descriptions.”

  She didn’t tell Kabir whether she liked the book or not.

  “What was your bondage experience like?” she asked.

  Kabir sighed. “Awkward and painful. What about you?” he shot back, finding the courage to question her.

  Take that.

  She looked surprised but smiled. “I tried it a few times—it’s kinda—fun.”

  Kabir regretted asking her the details. Now, he was curious about who it was with and when. She was beautiful, kind, honest, and admitted she likes bondage sex.

  Was it with the guy whose ring she wears on her neck?

  As if reading his thoughts, she asked, “Aren’t you going to ask me details?”

  He shook his head, fiercely. “No—too personal.”

  Elif took a sip of her drink as she observed him. She smiled coyly at him.

  “You should try being honest. It helps to release the sudden thoughts someone keeps so bottled up inside. Wouldn’t it be amazing to speak what you’re thinking? No words unsaid. Tell me something honest.” Elif wasn't asking, she was ordering him.

  You’re the most beautiful human I've ever seen.

  Instead, Kabir thought hard and replied, “I think my best friend Samar is a jackass with a stick up his ass.”

  Elif grinned at him. “Why do you keep him around?”

  “He’s a bad drunk, but generally, he's not all that bad,” Kabir said. “Your turn now.”

  “Vodka tastes like shit,”
she said.

  Kabir laughed at her. “Try something else then.” He noticed she liked to drink. A lot. He assumed it was because she liked booze. A lot of young people who come to his bar drink a lot.

  “Booze in general tastes like shit. I drink whiskey sometimes too. Wine is the only decent drink. I drink that when I’m in a good mood but even that is so scented,” Elif replied.

  Kabir liked these honest truths between them.

  Chapter 6

  Elif swirled her drink breathing in its toxic fragrance.

  She hated the smell of booze, but she liked that it would get her drunk. She always looked forward to coming to the bar because her brain couldn’t wait for the giddiness and intoxication that it brought. She brought the amber cocktail to her lip and let it sit in her mouth as she savored the taste before swallowing. It cooled down her throat. She closed her eyes as she drank it.

  It was good. So good, she thought.

  Her sadness began to fade as she had her first taste of alcohol. By her tenth drink, she was numb. She called Aryan over for another refill. He glanced at her and shook his head.

  Elif pouted and slurred. “Why?”

  “You had ten drinks in one hour. There’s a cap as a rule,” Aryan replied simply.

  She wrinkled her nose out to him. “You’re a bartender, and you’re stopping me from drinking?”

  “You’re getting intoxicated pretty fast. There’s a cap because there’s a protocol so I don't over-serve you, and you don’t hurt yourself or others in your intoxication. It would be normal if you had ten drinks in three hours, but it’s only been an hour,” Aryan replied.

  She stared at him. “Fine,” she muttered.

  He changed the topic by asking, “Are you new to the city?”

  “Yeah. I moved here six months ago.”

  “Where did you move from?” he asked.

  “Heaven,” she replied, not wanting to provide personal information about herself.

  Aryan rolled his eyes at her. “I moved here when I was seventeen from Punjab, India. I came here through DACA.” DACA stood for Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals. Children who were brought to the United States were eligible to apply for a worker’s permit, but they can't have felonies or misdemeanors. If they do, they’re no longer eligible for the program and can be deported.

  That’s where he gets his slight accent, she thought.

  Elif raised her eyebrows. “That’s neat. You live here by yourself?”

  Aryan nodded. “My family is back home.”

  “How did you end up bartending?” she asked.

  Aryan glanced at her. “I was homeless once and on the streets begging for money. Kabir walked past me, and he stopped and spoke with me. He was one of the few people who actually did. Two years ago, he offered me a job,” he replied, smiling at the memory.

  Elif was surprised.

  Jeez, that’s noble of Kabir, she thought.

  “That must have been a shitty time for you,” she said.

  He nodded. “Tough times, but life moves on. I owe my life to Kabir. We’re not just friends anymore but we’re brothers.”

  “Can I be your brother too?” Elif wiggled her eyebrows at him.

  Aryan grinned. “Sure.” He reached out and touched his knuckles to Elif who raised her hand to meet his.

  “There, that’s one step of brotherhood. Now we should cut our hands and do a formal handshake in blood,” Elif said, grinning at him.

  Aryan grimaced at her. “Americans have weird practices.”

  “It’s a blood oath,” she said.

  “It’s creepy,” he replied.

  “It’s loyalty.”

  “Loyalty that needs blood to be bled first. Sounds like witchcraft.”

  Elif laughed at Aryan’s facial expressions.

  Aryan continued saying, “I still don’t understand American lifestyles. People are addicted to coffees.”

  “Yep, I’m one of those weirdos.”

  “Gender reveal parties are stupid. People just look for a way to waste money. I wish they knew how meaningful money is,” Aryan said softly.

  He’s saying that because he had nothing before.

  Elif smiled sadly at him and placed her hand on top of his that was on the table. “How did you end up in the streets?” she asked.

  “It’s a long story. I moved here from India. I tried a million jobs and ended up broke and jobless. I came to America, and I didn’t speak the English language fluently. My accent embarrassed me. I came here to follow my dream of having a successful life, but it didn’t work out too well in the beginning,” he explained.

  Elif kept silent. She didn’t share the same experience he did.

  “Sometimes, it’s as if the brown minority has to suffer, always,” Aryan said.

  Not true always, Elif thought.

  “I didn’t suffer financially. I was born into money,” Elif replied carefully, avoiding his gaze. She was still embarrassed about the wealth she was associated with.

  Aryan replied sadly, “Then you’re blessed, make it count. So no more drinks for you until tomorrow. Drink apple juice instead.” He placed a cup of apple juice in front of her.

  Elif only nodded in response because she had lost her appetite for drinking booze.

  ❖

  Kabir was chatting with Aryan.

  The restaurant and bar was empty now. There were no more conversations or whispering. Kabir gazed at the stool Elif sat in. She had left a few minutes ago, and the stool was still dented with her imprint.

  “Does she talk to you?” Kabir asked.

  “She mainly asks questions about me, doesn’t reveal much about herself,” Aryan replied.

  “I’m curious, she drinks a lot. She drinks for a good time? She seemed very intoxicated when she left,” Kabir pointed out.

  Aryan shook his head. “I don’t know. Even if she did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  Kabir’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why not? You’re my friend.”

  “True, but I’m friends with her now too. She said we're brothers,” Aryan replied, proudly.

  Kabir threw his head back and laughed, the rumble of his laughter echoing through the silence of the night. “You made her your sister?”

  Aryan’s eyebrows shot up and he shook his head no. “Nah, I never said that. You think I’m an idiot to make her my sister?”

  “Why not?” Kabir asked.

  “You make her your sister then,” Aryan shot back.

  Kabir lost his smile and looked down at the table.

  Aryan muttered under his breath, “I didn’t think so.” He looked up and asked Kabir dead in the eye, “You like her?”

  “I don’t know her,” Kabir confessed.

  “But you clearly want to,” Aryan continued.

  “She’s very... complex,” he said.

  Aryan nodded and said, “She is...Just don’t lose yourself in her complexity.”

  Kabir didn’t reply.

  ❖

  Over the next few days, Kabir frequently encountered Elif at the bar. “Do you have the designs ready yet?” he asked.

  She shook her head no. “I’m still working on the color scheme.”

  He nodded, and they began to speak about their favorite books.

  “I like The Hunger Games,” she said.

  “Everyone likes it.”

  Elif tilted her head toward him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Badass heroines are very popular,” he replied.

  “I'm a badass too,” she said.

  Kabir drummed his fingers slowly on the table, pondering over her comment. “Are you?”

  “I did skydiving many times.”

  He laughed. “Gee... you're a daredevil.”

  She didn’t appear to be happy with his laughter and said, “I can kick a man’s ass.”

  Kabir nodded. “Of course.”

  “I learned martial arts when I moved here. It was four months training.”

  He looked at her surprised
. “For what?”

  Elif paused before replying, “Self-defense.”

  Kabir was wondering what could have happened that provoked such training.

  Is that why she has the scar on her shoulder? he thought. It looks like she fell.

  He pressed, “Honest truth, did something happen?”

  She put her drink on the table and fiddled with her hand. She almost looked nervous. “Long time ago, I met a guy who didn’t like hearing no.”

  “Oh,” Kabir said simply.

  She was silent for a moment before responding in a deep breath, “It's one of the reasons I continue drinking.”

  She doesn’t drink for fun?

  “Did he hurt you?” Kabir asked softly.

  “I thought he was my friend, my closest friend, but he... hurt me physically when we were together,” she admitted, glancing at him with the side of her eye.

  Kabir was caught off guard, at her truth.

  He was surprised she shared something so personal. He watched her before choosing his words carefully. She was looking directly at him, but her eyes looked vacant as if she was lost.

  Those eyes will be the end of me.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Elif turned toward him, and gave a small, sad smile, “Don’t be. It wasn’t the worst thing that happened to me.”

  Kabir was afraid to ask her the next question, so he kept quiet.

  Then, what was?

  Chapter 7

  Today, Kabir noticed Elif was wearing a white and pastel pink floral shoulder dress, ending at her knees. He didn’t notice people's clothing before but hers was interesting to look at. It was a part of her. The off-shoulder neckline of the dress accentuated her collarbones and shoulders. The dress had short sleeves with a flared hem. He watched as she leaned over the bar, sipping her drink. Her hair laid over one shoulder.

  I don’t understand why she wears spring dresses in winter, he thought. He remembered the conversation they had a few days ago regarding her self-defense training. He wanted to ask her more about it, but he didn’t want to intrude.

  Instead, Kabir plopped himself down on the bar stool and placed three diverse books on the bar table and asked Elif to choose. He found out she had read two of the three choices he presented already. His choices included White Teeth by Zadie Smith, The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde, and The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz.