by Leylah Attar
“Since when, Jayne?” shot Ryan. “Should you even be up? It’s not noon yet, is it?”
She was sixteen or seventeen, and her schoolgirl crush on me embarrassed Ryan, although he didn’t say. He knew I would never make the moves on his kid sister. That’s just part of the bro code.
“Shut up, smartass.” Jayne flipped him the finger and gave me a honey-sweet smile. “You sure I can’t get you anything?”
“Jayne, I’ll look after breakfast,” said her mother. “You go change.”
Elizabeth Worthing was not impressed with her daughter’s flimsy pajama shorts. Jayne made a face, but she went off to do her bidding.
“Morning, boys.” Mrs. Worthing gave Ryan and me a peck on the cheek. “Have fun last night?”
Ryan groaned, nursing his head.
“How about you?” she turned to me. “You need an advil too?”
I shook my head. My cotton-balled hangover had been knocked right out of me.
“God, you reek,” she said, as I reached over and grabbed an apple. “Off to the shower, young man. You’re not getting any pancakes until you’ve freshened up.”
“Pancakes? Yummm.” I took a big bite of the apple. “Thank you, Mrs. Worthing.”
“Call me Lizzie,” she said.
“Since when?” asked Ryan. First his sister and now his mum. “All my friends call you Mrs. Worthing.”
“Lizzie, Mrs. Worthing. What difference does it make?” I heard her say as I headed for the bathroom.
“Hey, Jayne.” It was Shayda’s voice, coming from the study room. “Have you ever seen a red butterfly?”
Without the distraction of her unsettling presence, I could focus on other things. She had an accent— barely detectable, like she had practiced the words many times to iron it out, but it still lingered in the folds. It wasn’t so much the way she said things, but the tone they took. High and low, up and down, a soft lilting like she was a bit unsure, so some words came out like question marks.
“A red butterfly?” replied Jayne. “Does that even exist?”
“Sure does.” I peeked into the study.
They jumped liked they’d been caught in the act.
“I saw one just this morning,” I said. I had the funny feeling they’d been talking about me.
“Yeah, right.” Jayne recovered first. “What’s it called then?”
A full flush settled over Shayda’s face when I looked at her.
“A Beetroot Butterfly.” I smiled.
3. A BAR ACROSS THE STREET
PAST
Matilda didn't speak much English, but we communicated just fine.
“Morgen,” she said, her eyes fixed on my lips.
Kiss me.
Obviously.
I obliged.
“Morgen.” She laughed and said again.
“She wants to know if she’ll see you tomorrow,” explained Ellen.
“Morgen. Ja. Ja!” I nodded.
“Okay.” Matilda smiled and got out of the car.
Jayne let herself in the front seat and stared sullenly after her. “She walks funny.”
I laughed. Matilda walked sexy—with a seductive sway to her hips that got more pronounced when she knew she had eyes on her.
“I like her,” I said to Ellen.
“I knew you’d get along,” she replied. “She really likes you.”
“So what else is new? Everybody likes Troy.” Ryan slapped me in the back good-naturedly.
“And I like you,” said Ellen, sidling up to him.
“Sheesh.” Jayne rolled her eyes. “Now that we’ve cleared all that up, can we go? Mum said to be home by six.”
With my parents out of town, Bob and Lizzie had taken me under their wing.
“Why don’t you just stay here until they get back?” they said.
“Thanks, but I prefer my own space.”
Truth is, I would have loved to stay. Lizzie was a mean cook, and Bob often took Ryan and me to work with him. We’d take pics of the properties he was listing and goof around at local hangouts until he was done.
But I couldn’t stay. Because staying meant running into Shayda, and I didn’t want to feel that intense awareness of her shoot through me. It made me feel alive and lousy at the same time, because I had no business thinking about her. So I accepted Bob and Lizzie’s dinner invitation instead. She would be gone by then and I wouldn’t have to wrestle with my misplaced reaction to her—look at her, don’t look at her; talk to her, don’t talk to her.
“Hey,” Jayne rolled down her window and pointed to a Greek restaurant as we drove by a busy stretch of the road. “This is where Shayda works!”
“I thought she works for Dad,” said Ryan.
“Yeah. In the day time. At night, she waitresses here.”
“She has two jobs?” asked Ellen.
“Mmmm.” Jayne nodded. “She’s always working. She has to sponsor her family over from Tehran. I think her parents and brother are still there. She’s only been here a year though.”
“Mum said she had an arranged marriage,” said Ryan.
“It wasn’t arranged-arranged. Her aunt set them up when she moved to Toronto.”
“You think her family got her married so they could all move here?”
“What do I look like? The six o’clock news?” Jayne swatted her brother.
“I’m just asking,” said Ryan. “You two seem to have hit it off.”
“How old is she anyways?” asked Ellen.
“Same as you. Twenty? Twenty-one? I’m not sure.” Jayne shrugged. “She doesn’t talk much about herself.”
*****
“Any plans for Canada Day?” asked Bob.
“Not really. I’ll probably just catch the fireworks at night,” I replied. With Matilda.
“Can Ellen and I come over? You guys have such a fantastic view out on the lake,” said Ryan.
“Sure. Consider yourself invited.”
“Why don’t you join us for lunch, Troy? Then you guys can head out together,” suggested Lizzie.
“Thank you. You’ve just spoiled me with that delicious chicken. You know I’d never turn down your cooking.” I smiled.
“I’ll make something too,” said Jayne.
“You?” Bob and Ryan looked like they’d just been smacked in the face.
“Yeah, me. You gotta a problem with that?”
“I’m glad you’re taking an interest, Jayne.” Lizzie hid a smile. “What’s with the sudden domestication?”
“It’s not sudden,” Jayne protested. “I just didn’t...you just don’t know about it. That's all. None of you know.” She sputtered indignantly.
“Well, I look forward to whatever it is you plan to serve us,” said Bob.
“Sure. You have insurance,” replied Ryan.
“Mom!” Jayne was not amused.
“I was thinking of inviting Shayda and Hafez too,” said Lizzie. “What do you think?”
“I think that would be fantastic,” said Bob. “After everything they’ve been through, being around family would lift their spirits. Even if it’s not their own.”
“Why? What happened to them?” asked Jayne.
Bob and Lizzie exchanged a look.
“Let's just say they’ve had a rough start,” replied Bob.
A wild, unruly part of me crawled out from the ranks, wanting to know more, but I secured it, like trapping a horned spider under an upside-down glass. I couldn’t contain it too long though. The beast broke free on my way home.
I stopped at a bar and found a table by the window. So what if it happened to be directly across the street from the restaurant Jayne had pointed out, the place where Shayda worked?
One drink, I told myself. Then I leave.
But a man can make one drink last for a long time when he wants to. And so I sat there, ignoring to the stares of women in clingy dresses, nursing a dry manhattan, as I watched the waitress across the street.
She was wearing the same yellow dress, with a gr
een apron around her waist. Her hair was tied back and she occasionally tucked a loose strand behind her ear. The patio was full, the music loud. She seemed to be the only one serving the tables. In and out she darted, balancing trays of drinks and bread and entrees. She smiled when she was supposed to, talked when spoken to and brought the check at the end of the meal. It was as if she was there, and yet removed, like she had carefully stowed away the part of her that was her, and was moving around in a hollowed-out robotic assembly of hands and legs and eyes and face. It wasn’t something you’d notice, unless you’d seen her, the real her, like I had for those few beats on the sidewalk. Because even momentarily, she had shone, so bright that I wondered what she’d be like if she were free and unrestrained.
I stayed until she turned the sign on the door to ‘CLOSED’ and the lights turned off inside. But she wasn’t done. She came back out and watered the plants on the patio. She must have been dead tired, but this was the part she enjoyed. I could tell because she stroked the flowers gently, letting her fingers sing to them, perking up their tired, wilted forms after a hot, sunny day. Then she found a small table in the corner, away from the lights, and had her dinner.
Why was she sitting here alone? Why wasn’t she hurrying home to have dinner with her husband?
Not your business, Troy. Not your business.
I watched as she tidied up, collected her things and walked to the bus stop. She was fumbling in her purse for change when the bus obscured her from my view. Then she was gone, an unknown commuter on a sleepy ride home.
I pulled out a few bills from my wallet and swallowed the last of my drink. I thought about calling Ryan and letting him know I was going to skip lunch tomorrow.
Hey, Ryan. Guess what? You know your father’s assistant? Yeah, the one that’s married. I just spent the last few hours stalking her. That’s what I said. I sat across from her work and watched her. I wish I knew. She just gets to me, man. I feel like shit. I know. I don’t think I can sit across from her and her husband and make small talk. You get it, right?”
I called Matilda instead.
4. A SIMPLE COMPLICATION
PAST
My room faced the water. When the sun came out, it bounced off the lake and cast rippling strobes of light on the ceiling.
“So pretty.” It fascinated Matilda. “Your home. Hervorragend.”
We’d spent half the night at a twenty-four hour burger joint, and the other half on the roof of my car, looking at the stars. It was nice, but now I was buzzing to go.
“I’m going for a run,” I said.
She looked at me uncomprehendingly.
“A run. You know, exercise.” I mimed.
“Ah. Ekzersize. I know best ekzersize.”
She locked her heels around my waist. She had long, strong legs and eyes that reminded me of a jungle cat—pale green, but shot with gold. It was easy to lose myself in her wild embrace. This could be The Summer of Matilda. But I’d stopped last night and I was pulling away this morning.
“No like?” she asked.
I loved the way she said ‘like’. Half-way between lick and like.
All hail The Summer of Girls With Sexy Accents.
“I like.” I kissed her.
This was every guy’s dream—a sweet, sexy, summer romp, at the end of which she’d head back home and I’d head back to college. I felt the rush of my response to her touch, her splayed-out hair, her big, wide pupils. But something didn’t feel right. And that very word—‘feel’—made me uncomfortable.
“I have to go for my run,” I said.
“Okay. I will watch light.” She went back to staring at the ceiling.
She was easygoing and sexy and cool.
I had to get my shit together.
This was not going to be The Summer of Regrets.
*****
“Hey, Bob. It's Troy. Sorry, I’m not going to make it for lunch, but I’ll be by later. No. Everything’s fine. Yeah. See you soon. Thanks.”
I’d called to make sure Ryan’s family didn’t wait for me, but they’d left the door open when I got there. There were no other cars in the driveway so I figured I’d timed it just right.
“Hello?” I called as I let myself in.
No answer.
I walked through the hallway, past the kitchen, and froze when I got to the living room.
Shayda was still here.
And she was looking out to the backyard, through the sliding door.
Why the fuck was she standing there alone? Where was her husband? Why wasn’t she out there with everyone else?
I could see Ryan and Jayne goofing around with hoses in their hands. Then Bob and Lizzie got involved and soon the whole family was running and screaming and getting soaked.
All right! A water fight.
I could do a water fight. I could walk past Shayda, totally unaffected, and join in. This time it was different. This time I was prepared for whatever weird, walloping sensation might hit me, and I was ready to punch that sucker straight back to oblivion.
She didn’t hear me walking up behind her. She was engrossed in the scene before her—all the laughing, hitting, yelling, squealing.
I was about to say something funny and silly and totally absurd. Then I caught her reflection in the glass.
You know those moments in childhood that completely floor you? Like the first time you see a dead bird or a dead squirrel and you realize that things die? You’re momentarily seized with a longing to revert back to a time when you didn’t know, a time of innocence and endless possibilities. That was the longing I saw in Shayda’s eyes as she looked out that door—open, naked, unguarded longing.
I wanted to retrace my steps, wait at the traffic light instead of flooring it to make the amber; I wanted to sleep in a little longer, dally over the phone with my parents, stop at the gas station for chewing gum—anything to go back and add a few more seconds, a few more minutes, because then I would have missed it. The look on her face.
But it was too late. Our eyes met in the reflection as I stood behind her, and the look turned to shame and humiliation. The horror of being caught with your mask down. For a while, she just stood there, like a deer that knows it’s been caught in the hunter’s cross hairs. Then she bolted.
I seized her before she could escape, pinning her against the glass, my hand over hers, so I could anchor her, keep her from getting swept away.
Hey. It’s okay.
She made a small, choking sound when I pulled her away from the sliding door. My arms went around her and her cheek found my chest. And just like that, something fell into place.
All of my wild, crazy exuberance fit perfectly in the quiet crevices of her dreams. It was as if all my life, I had been running towards this moment, this diamond sharp clarity of being and belonging, this strange, intriguing girl with her rose breath and her broken wings.
I didn’t want to feel this. I wanted Matilda and wild, summer escapades and no strings. And this could never be that. This was so many strings that I felt like a puppet. She could contort me in a million different ways.
Run, Troy, run.
But I just stood there, holding her. Because I fucking liked having her in my arms.
It was simple and as complicated as that.
*****
The sun had set, but the air was still hot and humid. Crowds of revelers had laid claim to their beach spots with picnic baskets and coolers and folding chairs.
“I’m so glad we don’t have to hustle for space here,” said Ellen. “Thanks for having us over.”
“My pleasure.” I replied. “We’d be there already if the traffic wasn’t so bad.”
“You think your car will be all right at the gas station?” asked Ryan.
“Greta said she’ll look after it.” I glanced back at Shayda. She was trailing along with Jayne.
We’d jumped apart when a loud splash brought us back to our to senses—Jayne pushing Ryan into the pool. She ran back to the house, squealing,
when Ryan threatened to come after her.
“Troy!” she said, when she saw me. “We’ve been expecting you.”
I extracted myself from her ardent, puppy-love hug. “We?”
“I’m going too,” she said. “And Shayda.”
And so here I was, walking around like I was perfectly cool with it, when really I was in the ring with the twisted fuck called fate, slugging it out, one round at a time, because it wasn't fair that we kept getting thrown together. This was not how I’d planned to catch the fireworks.
“So will Matilda join us later?” asked Ryan.
“Matilda?” Jayne caught up to us. “Matilda’s not coming, is she?”
I laughed. When Jayne wanted something, she wanted something. And right now, she definitely did not want Matilda around.
“Matilda’s host family had other plans for tonight. She’s not going to make it.”
The grin on Jayne’s face. Like she’d just scored the last cookie in the cookie jar.
“It’s not going to happen,” I said.
“What’s not going to happen?”
“Whatever you’ve got spinning in that delightfully stubborn head of yours.”
“You think I’m delightful?” The grin grew wider.
She was impossible. And adorable. Like one of those wind up toys that just kept going and going.
Ryan rolled his eyes. “We better hurry or we won’t make it to Troy’s in time.”
I glanced back and stopped. “Hey, where’s Shayda?”
She was nowhere in sight. Behind us, the boardwalk was teeming with obscure figures, all jumbled up in a long trail of shadows.
“Does she know where we’re heading?” I asked.
“No,” said Jayne. “I didn’t think to tell her.”
“Shit.” My eyes scanned the crowd. She could be anywhere by now.
“Why don’t you guys go ahead?” I handed Ryan my keys. “No point in all of us missing the show.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Jayne, latching on to my arm.
