Counting Down with You(46)
I try not to laugh.
Ma sighs. “It’s awful, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s great,” I say through muffled giggles. She levels me with a flat look, and I grin. “Practice makes perfect?”
“I suppose,” she says, considering her hands before looking up, scrutinizing me. “There’s something different about you.”
All my amusement dies. “Is there?”
She tilts her head, her eyebrows knitting together. “Did you change your skin routine?”
I roll with it immediately. “Yes,” I say, nodding. Ever since my mom started working in a dermatology office as a receptionist, she’s been hyperaware of skin products. “Cora’s mom brought some face wash from her last business trip. My skin feels so rejuvenated.”
“Which brand is it?” Ma asks curiously.
“Uh. Good question.” I scratch my head. “I can’t remember. I’ll text you a picture later tonight, when I’m applying it.” Translation: I will text Cora begging for help.
Ma nods, as if satisfied. “How is everything else? Baba told me you wanted to invite Cora and Nandini over?”
I nod slowly, trying not to look too overeager. “Can I? It’s been so long since they last came over.”
She hums. “Only if you clean the entire house. Promise?”
“Promise,” I say, flashing her a shaky thumbs-up. “I’ll start after I finish my precalc homework.”
“Mashallah,” my mother says, a smile spreading across her face. “I’m glad to see you’re working hard.”
Another nagging stab of guilt. “I try my best.”
Our conversation ends soon after that, and I exhale deeply, trying to get rid of the lingering unease.
A text from Ace flashes across my screen.
Alistair Clyde:
i showed my mom ur insta post and she says we make a cute couple. i’m inclined to agree...
I grin despite myself. I’m obvs bringing the cute to the table... what’s your contribution???
“Myra?”
I look up. Dadu stands over me holding a small bowl of rosogolla, spongy white sweets in sugary syrup. It’s one of my favorite desserts, and it lightens the load on my shoulders.
I sit up and reach for it. She offers me a spoon before sitting beside me on the couch. “Thank you,” I say.
“You look happy today,” Dadu says as I take a bite.
I smile faintly, gesturing toward the bowl. “Well, you made rosogolla.”
She shakes her head, eyes trailing over my expression. “No, not because of that. When you came in today, there was something different about you. Your steps seem lighter.”
I shake my head, laughing. “What are you talking about?”
Dadu reaches for the bowl instead of answering. I let her take it without complaint and smile when she tries to feed me. I part my lips, and she gives me a large serving, causing my cheeks to puff out.
“I don’t know why, but you’re happy, Myra. I’m glad to see it. You deserve it.”
I try to speak through my food but don’t quite manage it.
Dadu smiles and wipes the side of my mouth with her saree. “I’m happy for you.”
She leaves the bowl on the table and stands before I can finish chewing, making her way back to the kitchen. I stare after her retreating figure in bemusement.
After I finish my dessert, I open up Snapchat and look at myself in the front camera, trying to discern whether there’s something noticeably different about my face.
I don’t see anything, so I put it off to familial love. I’m the same girl I’ve always been.
As I’m closing the app, I get another text from Ace.
Alistair Clyde:
pls send me the pics?
Me:
hold onnnn
Me:
[14 attachments]
There’s no response, which is unexpected, given that Ace usually replies within minutes.
Except then I get the strangest notification of my life.
@AlistairClyde tagged you in a photo.
Oh no.
I open Instagram incredulously. Staring back at me is one of the pictures Daniella took earlier today. It’s the one where Ace is spinning me and I’m staring up at him, entirely overwhelmed.
There’s a reddish tint to my face, as close to a blush as I can get with my brown skin. Ace is staring down at me, his expression cool, but there’s an intensity in his gaze that causes my breath to stutter even now.
The caption of the photo is: magic...
I remember his words from earlier; There’s something magical about this moment I don’t ever want to forget.
The longer I look at the photo, the more I focus on myself rather than Ace. I think I might know what Dadu was talking about. I think I might know what my mother was talking about.
There’s something different about me here, visible in the lines of my expression. I don’t know how to put it into words, but maybe my grandma already did. I look happier.
Am I happier?
Is this what happiness feels like?
I don’t have the answer, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find it. T-19 days until my parents come home and all of this ends. That’s not nearly enough time, but it has to be.
24
T-MINUS 18 DAYS
After ten minutes of Cora and Nandini giving me pointed looks and giggling whenever Ace so much as glances my way, I drag him to the library to study instead. I thought that since it was first period, we could have a more leisure-based study session with my friends, but I underestimated how chaotic they can be.