The Mothers(42)

“What?” she’d said.

“I said, me and Luke have been spending time together.”

“What?” Nadia said again.

“I know,” Aubrey said. “Don’t you think it’s weird?”

“Why would it be weird?”

“I don’t know. We just never really spent time together before but now . . .”

She’d trailed off cryptically. Spending time, what did that even mean? Fucking? No, Aubrey would’ve said something if she’d broken her virginity pledge, wouldn’t she? So if they weren’t having sex, what were they doing together? That had bothered Nadia the most. Luke courted Aubrey. He took her on trips to the zoo, where he’d bought nectar so they could feed the birds. Aubrey sent Nadia pictures of them posing in front of the birdcage, Luke dripping with tropical birds on his arms, or the two of them celebrating their first anniversary at Disneyland, Luke wearing a Goofy baseball cap with dog ear flaps. Nadia couldn’t imagine Luke ever wearing a cutesy hat in public, let alone planning a date that took more effort than sending a text message a few hours in advance. He was different now. Or maybe he was different with someone other than her.

She’d never thought their relationship would last. How could it? What could they possibly have in common? What could possibly bind them together? Instead, she’d scrolled incessantly past photographs of the two of them sitting together on the edge of a dock or sharing dinner downtown or posing in the kitchen with Pastor and Mrs. Sheppard on Thanksgiving. Mrs. Sheppard beaming, an arm around Aubrey’s waist, as if she had actually selected her perfect daughter-in-law years ago. She must have felt relieved that Luke had finally realized it.

“So are you going?” Shadi asked. “To the wedding?”

“I guess I have to,” she said.

“I can always go with you,” he said.

She heard the smile in his voice even though his back was to her. He hinted about this often, visiting home with her and meeting her father. Their friends teased them about marriage but she always avoided the topic of a deeper commitment. Besides, his mother liked her but she wanted Shadi to marry a Muslim girl.

“Okay,” Nadia said when he’d announced it. “What do you expect me to do about that?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I just think it’s funny.”

“My dad wants me to marry a Christian boy,” she said. “It matters to some people.”

She felt annoyed by the way Shadi hinted about the future. He’d just received a job offer from Google but, he’d mentioned once, almost slyly, that if she wanted to move back to California after graduation, he could transfer to the Mountain View office. She’d laughed at his underestimation of the expansiveness of California. Didn’t he know that Mountain View was an eight-hour drive from San Diego? Still, it scared her, his willingness to pick up his life and follow her. She’d fallen for him when he wanted to become an international reporter, flying on choppers into war-torn countries. His independence liberated her. But now he was going to work in an office and she felt crushed already by his hopes for her. As graduation approached, she found herself picking fights with him more, like when she told him she didn’t plan to walk at commencement. Shadi told her she was being selfish.

“Graduation’s not about you,” he said. “It’s about everyone who cares about you. Don’t you think your dad wants to see you walk?”

“Don’t you think it’s none of your fucking business?” she said.

She didn’t want to walk if her mother couldn’t be there to watch her. Her mother had never gone to college but said she would someday, always someday. When the Palomar College catalogue came in the mail, she would lean against the countertop, scanning the bold titles of courses she would never take. Once, Nadia’s father had thrown out the catalogue with the rest of the junk mail and her mother had almost rooted through the trash can for it before her father said he’d already taken it to the dumpster.

“I thought it was trash,” he’d said.

“No, Robert, no,” her mother said. “No, it’s not trash.”

She’d seemed desperate, like she’d lost more than a catalogue that arrived in their mailbox every six months. By then, her mother was too busy with work and family to return to school, but she’d always told Nadia that she expected her to go to college. She reminded her of this when she checked over her math homework or chided her for her sloppy handwriting or quizzed her on reading assignments. Nadia knew she was the reason her mother had never gone to college and she’d wondered if, after she left home, her mother might finally go. Now graduation seemed silly. Why should she dress in a cap and gown and sweat in the sun, when her mother was not there to pose in pictures with her and cheer when her name was called? In her mind, she only saw pictures they would never take, arms around each other, her mother gaining little wrinkles around her eyes from smiling so much.

Nadia apologized to Shadi that night. She slipped inside his bed naked and he groaned, rolling toward her, stiff before she even touched him. She tasted the salt off his skin, the ticklish spot on his neck, as he fumbled in the nightstand drawer. She was on the pill but she always made him wear a condom too.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asked after.

“I hate when you do that,” she said.