The Name of Red

by Beena Khan

  “How could I? First, you get engaged, then your engagement breaks, and you swear off of love. Then you meet Elif, and she is all you see. You never see me,” Nadia accused him, her voice breaking.

  Why am I always invisible to you?

  “You need someone stable. I’m what you need, but desire has blinded you. I’m your solution. I told you to stay away from people who cause problems,” she said.

  Kabir gazed at her and remained silent.

  Kabir listened as Nadia continued, “I’m your best friend, I know you more than anyone else, and you know me more than anyone else. I've always been there for you. Ride or die. I wish you would see me instead.” Her gaze dropped to the floor before returning to meet him again.

  Kabir was unresponsive to her. She stared at him bewildered and hurt, her heart on her sleeve.

  Is this what it’s like when you break someone’s heart? he thought.

  He’d never broken someone’s heart before.

  “Everything pretty harms you. She will be the end of you,” Nadia warned him quietly.

  After realizing, Kabir wasn't going to say anything, she left him standing, and she never returned to his restaurant afterward.

  Chapter 44

  Elif didn’t see Kabir for the next week.

  He didn't come to the restaurant, even though she came every day. She waited every day to talk to him, but he didn't come. She tried to call him a few times, but his phone went straight to his voicemail.

  “You have reached the right person at the wrong time, so leave your name and message and I’ll get back to you.”

  She smiled at the recording.

  “Hey Kabir, it’s me.” Elif paused and then added, “Call me back.” She waited for days for him to call her but he never reached out. She watched Aryan as he tended to the customers around him.

  He saw she was looking and raised an eyebrow.

  “Where is he?” she asked quietly.

  He was silent for a few seconds, as if not sure if he should reply.

  “He’s safe,” Aryan simply replied.

  How does he know he is safe? she wondered, Obviously, Aryan in contact with him, but Kabir is purposefully avoiding me.

  Elif’s thoughts began to turn bitter.

  Aryan was her new designated driver, he was always available to drop her home in his car and even closed the bar early for her.

  Even though Kabir is gone, his presence is still here.

  ❖

  Kabir watched Elif from the lounge entrance.

  He stopped by and evaluated how things were going twice a week. He didn't come inside the restaurant, he worked from the back entrance. He was avoiding Elif, unsure of what to say to her after she had rejected him and his feelings.

  He was only a few feet away from here, but the distance felt like miles apart. He watched her sometimes. She didn’t drink as much as she used to now. It was as if she had limited her quantity of booze.

  He was surprised but happy.

  Elif scanned the room every few minutes, as if she was determined in finding what she was looking for.

  Men approached her, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He realized she didn’t need him pulling guys off of her. She could handle herself. Whenever a guy approached her and said hello, her eyes widened as she turned toward them to glance at them, but then her eyes became empty.

  Kabir wistfully wished she was waiting for him.

  He turned around to leave but saw Samar..

  Kabir narrowed his eyes. How did you get in here?” he asked.

  Samar looked apologetic. “I have the backdoor lounge key.”

  “What do you want?” Kabir asked, bluntly.

  Samar flinched at his harsh tone.

  “Look man, I’m sorry I did some shitty things. I wanted to apologize.”

  “Shitty thing?!” Kabir exclaimed. “You came onto Elif and wouldn’t leave her even though she said no.”

  Samar hung his head down in shame and ran his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

  Kabir sighed.

  Samar glanced over Kabir’s shoulder at Elif. Then, he smiled at him. “You love her, right?”

  Kabir was silent and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “What happened to the bro code? No chasing girls a friend likes.”

  “Well…she’s pretty. We both saw her at the same time,” Samar explained.

  Kabir grimaced.

  “I’m sorry man. You’re my brother, and I’m sorry I touched her,” Samar said softly.

  “You should apologize to her, not me,” Kabir explained.

  “I’m too scared,” Samar admitted. “I don’t want another bottle smashed on my head.” His body recoiled against the memory.

  Kabir hid a smile. “Did you stop drinking? You’re a lousy drunk.”

  Samar nodded. “I don’t drink as much. Occasionally now.”

  Kabir was silent.

  “Do you forgive me?” Samar asked, hopefully.

  Kabir sighed. “We’ll see.”

  Samar grinned at him, and Kabir gave him a reluctant smile.

  ❖

  Elif was irritated by the men who kept approaching her.

  None of these were the man she was waiting for.

  She was hopeful when she heard a deep voice, but her smile turned into a frown when she realized none of them were Kabir.

  ❖

  One day, Elif decided she had enough. It had been so long since she last saw Kabir. She cornered Aryan at the bar.

  “Where is Kabir?” she asked.

  “He’s safe, Elif.” That was the same reply he had been giving her for the past month.

  “He’s not here,” she protested.

  “He’s at home, Elif.”

  “Where the hell is home?!” she exclaimed.

  Aryan didn't answer and began serving drinks to the customers sitting at the bar.

  “Where can I find him?” she asked him, her voice rising.

  Aryan glanced at her and sighed, frustrated.

  “Where is his home?” Elif was shouting now. When Aryan didn't answer her again, she jumped up on the bar table.

  “Where is he?!” she demanded, her knees on all fours on the table. Aryan’s eyes widened and was surprised at her anger.

  “Okay. He lives at 630 Village County,” Aryan replied reluctantly.

  With a grateful smile, Elif left the bar in a rush.

  She took a cab and reached Kabir’s house in twenty minutes. As she left the car, she tossed the driver a twenty, and she slowly made her way toward the house walkway.

  She stopped before it.

  The house looked new, as if remodeled a year ago.

  It wasn't a traditional house with a roof, but one that was made out of steel and glass. The roof was flat, and it didn't have a visible chimney. The windows were large and took up most of the walls. They were made out of glass. Elif assumed it was to have lots of light reach into the house. Through the windows, she could see the inside of the house. She gazed at the modern architecture, at the white, marble kitchen tables that were geometric.

  She stood at the metallic door entrance, and rang the doorbell, only once and waited impatiently for him to answer the door.

  Kabir opened the door and looked surprised when he saw her. He was wearing his gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

  She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Hello,” Elif said, trying to calm her emotions.

  “Hi,” Kabir simply said, not moving at all nor welcoming her in his house.

  She waited a few moments before asking, “Well, how are you?”

  “I’m okay, how are you? Still drinking your life away?” he asked sarcastically.

  Elif ignored the jab he threw at her.

  “Aren’t you going to welcome me in?”

  Kabir shrugged and moved out of the way so she could step inside. Elif’s heels clacked as they touched the polished, marble, concrete floor. His house was large and decorated in a monochr
omatic theme.

  He likes minimalism, she realized.

  He liked to use neutral colors: gray, white, black, silver, although she did see some navy blue in the paintings surrounding the wall. In the living room, there was a large six piece set chrome colored set, and underneath their feet, laid a large white sheepskin carpet. The sheepskin carpet looked expensive, but it was soft. It was so clean. It was hard to believe anyone had ever stepped foot on it. His house had no clutter, no shoes or jackets thrown on the floor.

  She smiled as she gazed through it, as she remembered her own cluttered apartment.

  “Your house is beautiful.”

  Kabir modestly stared at the ground before muttering a thanks. Elif turned toward him and stared him down. Kabir felt uncomfortable under her invasive gaze. He was amazed, she made him uncomfortable in his own home.

  “Why are you avoiding me?” she asked him directly.

  Kabir didn't answer and walked into the kitchen. He took out two glasses from the cabinet and poured some grape juice for them.

  “No booze in my house. This is the closest thing you’re getting to wine,” he said, shooting daggers at her.

  “Fine,” she snapped at him, as she tried to remain angry at him, but her emotions betrayed her. Laughter wanted to burst out of her. Elif took the grape juice from him, and they sat down on the couch. Suddenly they were quiet, the energy and mood they had before was gone, replaced with silence. Now, they were comfortable in it taking over.

  Kabir began making dinner.

  “I didn’t know you knew how to cook,” Elif said. They were at the kitchen countertop. Kabir was standing up cutting onions and tomatoes, while she was watching him.

  “Can you cook?” he asked her.

  She nodded yes at him.

  “You don’t want to help me cook?”

  “I’m a guest,” she replied simply.

  He rolled his eyes at her.

  “When did you care about household rules?” Kabir asked her. “You’re always drinking my alcohol at my bar, in my territory, then you come to my house to eat my food.” Kabir shook his head at her.

  Elif glared at him in return.

  “Okay, give me something to do. I will defrost the chicken and heat the oil for starters,” she said, moving away from her chair and going to the fridge.

  “Already done,” Kabir said shortly.

  Elif raised an eyebrow at him. Then she noticed the chicken pot in the sink filled with hot water and a pot with oil heating up on the gas.

  “Oh,” she said, embarrassed.

  Kabir turned to look at her, “You can help me cut the coriander leaves for now.” She nodded and opened the refrigerator and began cutting fresh coriander leaves.

  Together they made dinner.

  “You don’t measure the amount of spices and salt you put in your food?” Elif asked Kabir.

  “No, It’s nerve wracking to think about. I go by an estimate by looking at the ingredients,” Kabir replied.

  Soon, the mixture of tomatoes and onions looked nice enough to place the chicken pieces on top of it. Kabir added turmeric, red spice, chicken masala, and some salt before he began stirring the food. He put the heat on medium before leaving it to cook for twenty minutes.

  Elif helped set the table and warmed some fresh, frozen, naan, flatbread to go along with the meal. She also cut cucumbers and onions to make raitha, a cool and refreshing yogurt dish mixed with mild spices, fresh cilantro, green onions, ground coriander, and ground cumin.

  The food was delicious, and Kabir was an excellent cook.

  “When did you start cooking? Did your mother teach you?” Elif asked him. She took her hand to tear the oven-bread naan and dip it in the chicken sauce before swallowing it in her mouth.

  Kabir smiled and shook his head no. “My parents live in Chicago. I moved out when I was twenty-one when I graduated from my undergrad and began studying at Cornell University for medical college. I lived with Samar and we learned to cook. The first experiences were not so pleasant.”

  “Samar’s so different from you.” Elif gazed at her food as she remembered his harassment from the bar nights. “I haven’t seen him since he attacked me.”

  Kabir looked up at her, “Yeah, I told him to stop coming to the restaurant.” He was silent before he added, “He wanted to apologize to you. He’s an ass, and he was wrong those times when he was inappropriate with you. It’s hard for me to hate him though, because he’s like my brother and my best friend. He took me in his house and fed me when I had no money. It was embarrassing to ask my parents every time. I was very dependent on them.”

  They finished eating, and Elif began to help Kabir wash the dishes before he shooed her away, asking her to sit down instead.

  “You’re avoiding me,” Elif said, randomly.

  Kabir ignored her.

  “Delam barat tang shod. Jaye Shoma Khalil,” Elif admitted.

  “What does that mean?” Kabir asked quietly.

  “It means, my heart can't function without you. I miss you. Your place by my side at the bar has been empty, and I wish you were there,” Elif admitted softly.

  Kabir glanced up at her, surprised. He smiled faintly, as his heart hammered in his chest.

  “When you left, you knew I would chase you,” she said. Elif took a deep breath and continued, “There’s something I haven’t told you.” She reached for her purse and withdrew a few papers stapled together to Kabir. She slid them across the table to him.

  Kabir furrowed his eyebrows in confusion before reaching for the papers and beginning to read them.

  She slowly said, “I have been seeing an oncologist for a year now.”

  Kabir had finished reading the papers and stared at her open-mouthed.

  She continued saying, “The day I came to your bar was when I first found out my diagnosis. I went home and changed into my red dress...”

  The memory began playing in Elif’s mind.

  “Elif, your lab tests came back. I’ve looked into your biopsy, and it’s not benign. I’m afraid you have cancer. It’s liver cancer,’” Dr. Williamson said.

  Elif looked up at her oncologist, momentarily stunned.

  “The good news is that it’s early. I know this diagnosis can be traumatizing, but you’re still stable. We can treat it since the diagnosis is recent, a little radiation can help and go a long way.”

  I have cancer, she thought as the news hit her. I’m a widow, childless, and now I have cancer?

  Elif studied Dr. Williamson as he spoke. He was a middle-age man, and his eyes were kind as he spoke.

  “Elif, do you have anything to say?” he asked.

  She felt tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to cry. She didn’t answer him and remained silent.

  “You’re not dying Elif...You can have cancer and still live. I have a treatment plan for you, I wanted to start radiation right away so we can get rid of the cancerous cells. After radiation, we would need to do x-rays and blood tests every six months to see if anything has returned, and to see if you’re still healthy. I would highly recommend you don’t drink any more alcohol. It can accelerate the disease if you still drink.”

  “I have trouble giving up booze,” she admitted.

  “I would like you to join Alcoholics Anonymous.” Elif began to protest but he cut her off. “It’s a healthy way to share your story.”

  “I don’t feel comfortable.”

  Dr. Williamson was silent as he studied her. “Alright, we won’t push it but you should stop drinking. Next week, we want to start on your radiation, okay?” he asked gently.

  Elif was no longer listening to him. All she could recall was hearing the word “cancer.” That was something she read in books and television. She never thought it could happen to her. She took the pamphlets the oncologist offered her. She noticed an Alcoholics Anonymous pamphlet and looked at him in surprise.

  “If you change your mind,” Dr. Williamson said.

  She nodded and took an uber hom
e. It had been eight months since she moved to New York. She hadn’t bought her own car yet, and she didn’t want to. During the silent ride, she pondered about her diagnosis.

  Why now?

  She entered her apartment and went straight to the bathroom. She turned the faucet on full and hot water poured down at her. Her skin scorched under the heat, and her skin pinkened. After a few seconds, she turned the cold faucet on.

  The shock of her diagnosis began to wear off as she exited her bathroom in her white robe. She looked at herself in the mirror, and she began putting on makeup. She didn’t know why, but she needed something to do to ease her mind. Her fingers picked up her foundation, and she began to apply her base.

  Makeup is a good cover up, she thought.

  She liked the end result. She didn’t use much makeup, just enough to look presentable.

  Presentable to who exactly? she thought bitterly.

  She went to her closet looking for something to wear. Her eyes fell on a red dress. She smiled at the sight of it. She remembered wearing that dress on her first date with Isaah. They had gone out for dinner. He had left his leather jacket and wore a suit for her. She dropped her robe and changed into her red dress, opting to go without a bra. She wore white heels with the dress. She grabbed her bag, her trench coat and left her apartment.

  She kept on walking, but she wasn’t sure what her destination was. She heard thunder rumbling as she walked.

  It’s going to rain. What a nice time to walk.

  She had been walking for ten minutes when she felt the first rain drop on her forehead. Then, it began drizzling. The rain began to pour down heavily, and she almost slipped on the hard cement with her heels. She looked around her surroundings and noticed a restaurant Ferdaus illuminated around the corner. Several people walked up the stairs, toward the restaurant, most likely trying to seek shelter in the rain.

  She followed behind their footsteps.

  “The day I came to your bar, that’s when I was first diagnosed with liver cancer but it was survivable. For the previous few weeks, I had pain in my abdominal area so I saw my doctor. I found out something else the day after you stayed over, when I was drunk that night. It’s the real reason why I... pushed you away every time you came close to me.” Elif finished, as the memory ended.