I Have Lost My Way(47)

Harun has prepared no lie, no excuse. Let the chips fall where they may. He braces himself. And then Freya and Nathaniel step into the living room. “Sorry we made him late,” Freya says.

The arrival of Freya and Nathaniel, two total strangers, is so unexpected, it rearranges the atoms in the room. Ammi’s worry turns to confusion. Abu’s hospitality takes over. “You brought friends,” he says, rising from his seat, hands outstretched.

“Yes, I brought friends,” Harun says.

“Friends?” Halima says, eyes widening.

“Friends,” Abu says, acting as if it’s perfectly normal for Harun to bring people—one of them a girl—home without warning. “We will add two more chairs to the table. Come, Rabia, I will help you,” he tells Ammi.

From the dining room, Harun hears the scraping of chairs, the clattering of additional plates and silverware, Ammi and Abu’s hushed conversation, which he does not need to hear to know the content of. Who are these strangers Harun has brought?

Suspicious. That’s fine. That’s why he brought them here. To subject himself to one of Ammi’s scrupulous audits.

As the seats are rearranged in the dining room, questioning glances are bandied about the living room. None of his siblings say anything. They are too polite. It’s Saif’s wife, Leesa, who finally asks, “Are these your friends from school?”

And though he has not told Freya or Nathaniel a thing about this meal, or about his family, or his predicament, or himself, really, without missing a beat, Freya smiles and says, “Yes.”

By the way Halima’s eyes widen, Harun understands that he’s not the only Freya fan in the family. He feels a twinge of regret that they never discussed this. It would have been nice to share something with someone in this family.

“What is it you study?” Abdullah asks.

“Music,” Freya replies.

“Nursing,” Nathaniel says.

“I didn’t realize the school offered such a diverse curriculum,” says Halima.

“Or that men could be nurses,” Saif says.

“Don’t be such a sexist jerk,” Halima says. “Of course they can. People can be lots of things.” Though she’s speaking to Nathaniel, she’s looking at Harun.

“Please,” Ammi says, returning to the living room, “come to the table.”

The table is set with the linens Ammi carried with her when she came here, nearly thirty years ago, and is laden with crispy samosas gleaming with oil, pakoras, jewel-colored sauces, dahi bharas.

They all sit. Ammi begins passing around the platters of appetizers. Remembering how hungry Nathaniel was before, Harun instructs Ammi to give him two of each, explaining what each one is.

When the platter comes to Leesa, she demurs and turns her attention to Freya. “Not to be rude, but how do music majors expect to make any money?”

Ammi coughs.

“I’m sure she’ll find a way,” Halima says, giving Harun a look.

“It’s not so easy to make it as an artist,” Leesa says. “When I was younger I wanted to be a figure skater, but there’s no money in that either, and you have to travel constantly.” She shakes her head. “I’m a homebody, so no thanks. Luckily, I had a plan B: real estate. You have to have a plan B. Do you?”

“No,” Freya admits in a small voice.

“You should,” Leesa says. “I mean, there’s probably more money in nursing. And definitely in real estate. Steve and I do quite well for ourselves, don’t we, babe?”

“There’s more to life than money,” Ammi says. “And many paths to take.”

“So long as the paths lead to medicine, business, or law,” Halima says.

“Don’t forget,” Abdullah adds. “Engineering is also okay.”

“That’s not fair,” Ammi says to Halima. “You want to be a . . .” She waggles her fingers. “Cartoon maker.”

“An animator, Ammi. Like for Pixar.”

Harun watches this all in disbelief. Why are they talking about career choices?

Ammi turns to Nathaniel. “What kind of nursing will you do?”

“Stop questioning my friends,” Harun says. He knows he’s behaving rudely, but he wants the interrogation to turn from Nathaniel to himself, where it belongs.

“Hospice care,” Nathaniel replies.

“With dying people?” Leesa says. “How depressing.”

“I think it’s an honor to accompany people as they pass.” Nathaniel pauses to lick a bit of tamarind sauce off his finger. “We all die. It’s the only sure thing in life and the one thing we all have in common with everything else on the planet.”

“Indeed, but for us, may it not be for a long time, Inshallah,” Abu says. “Shall we move on to the main course?”

Ammi stands. “Beti, help me carry in the food.”

Halima stands. Freya does too. The three of them disappear into the kitchen, reappearing with enough food for ten extra guests. Freya sets down chicken karhai in front of Harun. “Your mom says this is your favorite.”

Chicken karhai and lamb biryani and beef keema. All of the dishes are his favorite. But he did not come here for a nice dinner with his favorite foods. He came here to force the issue. Why is no one forcing anything?