Counting Down with You(40)
I laugh in surprise. Near the end of his life, Dada was always serious. It’s strange to hear he wasn’t always like that. “A rascal?”
Dadu grins, reaching over to run a hand over my hair. “A rascal. He would get us into all sorts of trouble. I thought I would handle it fine because of all of my older brothers, but he was just...different. He treated me differently. I never realized until I met your grandpa, but my brothers were always so careful around me. They treated me like a precious jewel that could break at any moment. Only once I met him did I realize how sheltered I had been to the absurdity of the world around me. It changed me to see the manner in which your grandfather approached things. It made me realize that maybe I wasn’t the person I thought I was. My family believed me to be one way, but I was quickly learning that I was someone else altogether.”
I’m not the way my family believes me to be, either is on the tip of my tongue. But that’s not a conversation for right now.
Dadu swallows roughly, her eyes glimmering in the candlelight. “Your grandpa never treated me that way. He always saw me for who I was, even before I saw it myself. His equal. He was free with his thoughts and actions around me. Wild in a lovely and terrifying sort of way. It was so unfamiliar. I didn’t know what to do with him at first.”
That sounds increasingly familiar. “What did you do?”
“I calmed him down,” Dadu says, her voice quieter. The words send a chill through me. “And I think he needed that on occasion, the same way I needed his boldness. I was able to ground him in reality.”
“How did you do that?” I ask, equally hushed.
Dadu looks away, her gaze somewhere distant. “By loving him.”
I inhale sharply, not having expected that answer. Dadu looks back at me, her eyes alert again. “Is there a reason you’re asking, Myra?”
“No,” I say, scratching my nose. “I was just curious.”
Dadu considers my expression. I have no idea what I must look like to her, but I doubt it’s the perfect picture of innocence.
“Myra Apu has a cruuuush,” Samir’s voice says behind me, and I turn to see him leaning against the dining room’s entryway, holding a tray of Oreos, likely stolen from the pantry as a snack. There’s an infuriating grin on his face.
My neck burns. “Shut up. I do not.”
Samir wiggles his eyebrows at me suggestively. I reach for a napkin on the dining table, then toss it at his head. He ducks out of the way, sticking his tongue out at me. “Don’t forget to call Ma,” he says, laughing when I throw another napkin. “I was just on FaceTime with her, and she said you’re ignoring her calls.”
“I am not ignoring her,” I say. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. Samir’s words about having a crush keep looping through my head, and I stand suddenly, making for him. He never thinks before speaking.
His eyes widen and he skitters away, toward the stairs. I move to follow him when Dadu says, “Myra.”
I pause, looking back at her. “Yes?”
She’s watching me with a small smile. “Can you grab me a sweater? I’m feeling cold.”
I slump in sudden relief, which probably paints me as even guiltier. “Of course,” I say and hurry to get it for her.
On my way, I knock on Samir’s door. He opens it a crack, peering at me through the small gap. “What?”
“Don’t do that,” I say, my skin crawling as I meet his eyes. Samir often forgets that we have different consequences for our actions. It’s insufferable and anxiety inducing. “You’re going to get me in trouble. I don’t have a crush on anyone.”
He raises his brows. “I was just joking,” he says, opening the door wider. There are faint noises in the background, his laptop open to some video game streaming app. “It’s not a big deal. Dadu doesn’t care.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I know, but just—don’t, okay? I don’t have a crush on anyone. Don’t bring up that kind of stuff at home. Promise me you won’t.”
Samir holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “All right, all right. Relax. I promise I won’t bring it up.”
The stiffness in my frame eases. “Thanks.”
He shrugs but falters. Another awful grin spreads across his face. He pokes my side, asking, “You’re being pretty defensive. Do you have a crush on someone? You said you were tutoring that dude, right? What was his name again?”
I smack his hand away, even as my heart skips a beat. At least this proves Samir didn’t even care enough to remember Ace’s name. “No. He’s just a classmate. And didn’t I just say not to bring that up at home? Don’t you have homework to do?”
“Sorry, sorry, I’ll stop now,” my brother says and snorts at the irritated expression on my face. “I’m already done, by the way. Maybe you should go do yours.”
He shuts the door in my face before I can flip him off. I grumble under my breath, but my heart feels a little more at ease knowing he won’t say anything like that again. I grab a sweater from Dadu’s room and head back downstairs to the dining room.
On my way, I pause in the living room at the sight of my phone, which is playing a Top 40 playlist from Spotify on the speakers. I pick it up unthinkingly and search for a classical music playlist.