Counting Down with You(32)
As I’m going to bed, my phone starts ringing with a FaceTime call from my parents. After a moment of deliberation, I slide my thumb across the screen, answering it.
My dad’s face greets me this time. “Myra, where is your brother?”
“Uh. I don’t know?” I say, glancing in the direction of my bedroom door. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” my dad says. “I wanted to ask him to send me a link for the last Knicks game. He said Dadu deleted it off the DVR, so I tried to find it online, but I can’t.”
Looks like Samir took my advice. “I can find it for you,” I offer hesitantly. “If you want.”
“Really?” Baba’s eyebrows rise. “Can you show me how?”
“Yeah,” I say and move to my laptop, opening up a YouTube tab. I flip the camera so he can watch as I click the official NBA account and find a highlights reel of the game. “I’ll text you the link so you can watch it.”
“Thank you so much,” my dad says and the gratitude in his eyes settles some of the rocks floating in my stomach. “So how was your physics lab? Did you finish it? Ma told me you were working on it late today.”
“Yeah,” I say, offering him a tight smile as I flip the camera back around. “Sorry I haven’t called every day. There’s been a lot of schoolwork recently. I think they’re piling it on because spring break is in a week.”
“Oh, right, I forgot about that,” my dad says, scratching his beard. “Maybe you should use that time to work on those new SAT workbooks I bought for you.”
“Yeah, definitely,” I say, even though the idea of spending my break studying gives me a headache. “Do you think Cora and Nandini could come over to our house one of those days?”
“Ask your mom, not me,” Baba says, shaking his head.
I sigh. “Can you ask her for me?”
He considers me for a moment. “Okay. No promises, though.”
This time, my smile feels genuine. “Thanks. How is Bangladesh?”
Baba’s face twists. “Your mother’s family is...loud.”
I snort, remembering the last time I visited, over five years ago. “I know.”
He relays a little more about the last few days, and I listen until my eyes start to droop. My dad must notice, because he waves me off when I insist I’m still awake. “Get some rest, Myra. You worked hard on your lab tonight.”
A flash of guilt runs through me. “Yeah.”
“Good night,” Baba says, waving at me through the camera.
“Good night,” I say in return and set my phone aside after he hangs up.
I’m used to lying to my parents. I have no doubt Samir lies to them, too. It’s the way it has to be. But sometimes, I can’t help but feel bad about it. I remind myself that tutoring Ace is a white lie—nothing that has any bearing on my relationship with my parents. It’s not something they have to know about.
I fall asleep to that thought.
T-MINUS 22 DAYS
When I wake up Saturday morning, I stare at the posters of poetry hung on my bright yellow ceiling and bask in the comfort of not being called lazy for getting up at 11:00 a.m.
My room is relatively sparse. My parents always say less is more, so I’ve kept the decor to a minimum. Instead, there are stacks and stacks of books piled against the walls. My shelves are overflowing, but my parents have yet to buy me new ones.
I’m idly eyeing the stack of books on my bedside, trying to pick one for my weekend read, when someone knocks on the door.
“Myra, are you awake?” Dadu asks.
“Yeah!”
The door opens and Dadu peeks her head in, smiling. It feels like a breath of fresh air. “Do you want to come grocery shopping with me after breakfast?”
I smile back. It’s always nice to see Dadu in a good mood. “I’d love to.”
Later, when I’m walking through the fruit aisle, my phone buzzes in my back pocket. I unlock it to see a text from Nandini: have you checked FB?
I frown. no, I barely go on fb unless it’s for class!! why?
baaabe. april fools must’ve come early for ace lol
Cora sends a screenshot of her Facebook app to our group chat the next moment. Ace Clyde is in a relationship.
The first comment says Mia Jackson: lmao with whomst?
The second comment says Ace Clyde: karina ahmed, rmbr??
I curse in surprise, dropping my phone into the shopping cart.
Dadu comes up behind me, a concerned expression on her face. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I say, shoving my phone away and focusing on the bananas. Is Ace insane? I don’t know what could possibly make him think that was a good decision but he’s going to regret it dearly.
The most ridiculous part of this is that we’re not even Facebook friends.
My phone buzzes in my pocket again, but I ignore it. I can’t even think about this or I’ll start screaming, and then I’ll probably get carted out of the grocery store.
“Are you sure, Myra?” Dadu asks, cupping my face and turning it side to side as if she can diagnose me from a glance. “Are you ill? We have to go to Sana’s birthday party on Friday. If you’re feeling sick, we should get you medicine today, to make sure that you’re healthy by then.”