Love from A to Z(18)

“I’m going to pretend it is.” Auntie Nandy, sitting at the table with her laptop, smiled. Then she whispered, as though the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame had her place bugged, “It’s actually from 1980. But isn’t it great? Nazia Hassan singing ‘Aap Jaisa Koi’? ‘Aap jaisa koi meri zindagi’!”

She got up and began dancing. Raising one hand in the air, she shook it a few times then swung it down across her body dramatically before lifting it up again in a sudden whoosh, all the while shaking her shoulders and hips. Her eyes were closed, but her expression was serious.

Auntie Nandy’s hips and shoulders looked like they belonged to two different people, while her arms didn’t seem to know whether they were taking turns flailing for help from a helicopter hovering over a deserted island or pointing earnestly at something someone lost on the ground.

I couldn’t look away, so I stood in the doorway of the kitchen, holding my plate up to my chest, trying hard to keep my lips at an appreciative-smile level and not let them venture where they wanted to: side-splitting, bust-out-laughing, this-is-perfectly-too-funny-to-be-cringey level.

But then came a point when she twisted-shimmied her way down while one hand did jazz hands and the other tried to pull her pants up, and I had to run to the table and put my plate down to use both my hands to cover the laughter exploding from my mouth.

She saw me and tried to straighten gracefully, giggling at the way she had to yank her pants before she made it even halfway up. “Oh, so you think I don’t know how to dance? Or is it you think you know how to dance?”

“I actually do, Auntie Nandy.” I laughed. “And you actually don’t.”

“This is disco, Zoodles.” She pulled my arms to get me to join her on the carpet. “Listen to the rhythm. It’s different from your music.”

I laughed again and reached for my phone. “My friend Nhu’s mom runs a dance studio. And she even teaches disco. I’m going to FaceTime her to show us some real moves.”

“Perfect. Let’s hit it from the top!” Auntie Nandy pressed a remote, and her sound system started again.

? ? ?

Kavi, I like disco music.

Also, here’s the best song: “Aap Jaisa Koi.”

Aap jaisa koi meri zindagi mein aaye.

Which means: If someone like you entered my life . . .

? ? ?

Souq Waqif was beautiful at night. We ate at Damasca, a Syrian restaurant, and then wandered the bustling market.

The cobblestone streets, polished smooth, were lit by lights attached to the buildings, in alcoves and atop the structures as well. The buildings themselves were traditional Qatari style, low and with wraparound balustrades and second-story balconies overlooking the market below.

There were all sorts of shops selling everything from trinkets like camel key chains to rugs to perfumes and pure-gold jewelry. And clothing shops with tons of scarves stacked in piles near their entrances.

I couldn’t stop myself from buying a few hijabs.

I bought one for tomorrow’s field trip with Hanna’s class.

It was the color of the sky before a storm, a sort of grayish baby blue, but the best part was the print on it. Darker gray silhouettes of tiny birds flying.

When we reached the car in the parking lot across from the souk, I draped the hijab around my head to model it for Auntie Nandy. “Good for a trip to an animal sanctuary?”

“Perfect.” She put our purchases in the trunk. “We leave at seven thirty, so get to bed as soon as we get home, Zoodles.”

“Yes, Mom-sub.”

On the road, she turned off the radio. “I should tell you something about Adam. You’ll be spending time with him tomorrow.”

I looked at her. It was like her voice had become muffled. Or dropped an octave.

The glistening in her eyes told me it was sadness. She blinked a few times, and a tear dropped.

Whoa, that was sudden.

I didn’t say anything and instead focused on the palm trees lining the avenue we were driving down. The night sky was visible between the buildings behind the trees, and I thought about the photo of Adam looking at the same sky yesterday.

Yes. There was something sad in his eyes.

And now maybe I was going to know why.

I glanced at Auntie Nandy again. She was still blinking.

Then she turned the car into a plaza parking lot and reached into the glove compartment for a tissue box.

I pulled my arms in tight and clutched myself while she blew her nose, wondering if I should hug her or something.

Auntie Nandy drew a breath. “Adam’s mother passed away when he was in my class in the fourth grade.”

“Oh God.” I gripped myself tighter. “That’s so sad.”

“It was obviously devastating for him, for the whole family. She was diagnosed with her illness, MS, many years before, in her late twenties, and she coped, even did well, but then, after she had her second child, it progressed rapidly.” She began crying again.

I reached my hand out and rubbed her arm. She wiped her face with a folded tissue and swallowed before turning to me. “I’m telling you because Tuesday is the anniversary of her death, and I see it in him, the remembrance of it.”

“Thanks for letting me know.”

“She was one of my closest friends. She taught at DIS too. High school art.”