Love, Hate and Other Filters(48)

I hold the phone to my ear while I put down my food and settle into my bed. I count the rings. Of course he’s out; it’s Saturday night. I should hang up. But caller ID.

I ready myself to leave a breezy message, but a breathless female voice answers in the middle of the fifth ring. “H-h-ello?”

“Uh, I think … sorry. I must have the wrong number?”

“Who are you looking for?”

“Kareem?”

“He stepped out for a second. He’ll be right back.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks,” I say, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“I’ll yell down the hall for him. Can I tell him who’s calling?”

“Maya.”

“The documentarian?”

“I guess … that’s … me.”

“Hang on.” The woman pulls the phone away from her mouth, but I can still hear her yelling for Kareem. “Babe. Phone. It’s Maya.”

There’s scuffling, and then Kareem’s muffled voice says, “Give me five minutes. I’ll be right behind you,” and then I hear something like a kiss. Definitely a kiss. “Maya? What’s up?” He sounds worried.

“Hey, thought I’d give you a ring, but I guess I caught you at a bad time.” I bite my bottom lip. I want desperately to sound coolly detached but not like I’m trying too hard to sound coolly detached—basically Lauren Bacall in To Have and Have Not but less insolent and more Indian. (Another movie Hina made me watch.)

“No worries,” he says. “Everything good with you?”

“Yeah. Sure. But I don’t want to keep you from … from …” I’m fishing for the woman’s name. Obviously.

“Suraya.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

“Chill. It’s fine. I’ve been meaning to call you, to see how things have been since the vandalism at your parents’ clinic. How have they been holding up?”

“You should go. You don’t want to keep Suraya waiting …” A whirling fireball grows in my chest. I have no right to feel this way, but I do.

“Maya, you sound kind of—”

“I’m surprised, that’s all. I didn’t expect someone else to answer your phone.”

“Suraya and I got back together last week.”

“Back together?” I gulp.

“Remember, in your backyard, my brokenhearted sob story? Suraya was the breaker.”

“And now you’re back with her?” I try and sound upbeat and friendly instead of simply confused. I’m fairly certain I’m completely failing.

“Funny how life works, right? The timing wasn’t right then … we both had growing up to do. Anyway, we had dinner a couple weeks ago, and the whole meal neither of us could stop smiling. We decided to give it—us—another try.”

Kareem’s happiness sings in my ear. I can’t begrudge him. After all, I’m the one who threw us away. I knew then as I do now that we weren’t meant to be together. So it makes no sense that I’m hurting the way I am.

“It may seem weird, but Suraya and I—she gets me, you know? We can be together, and it’s easy. I don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not.” He pauses. “You know how when life gets too complicated, it’s easy to overthink everything? Intellectualize too much?”

“Please, I’m the president of Overthinkers Anonymous. I’m their patron saint.”

Kareem laughs. “Sometimes you’ve got to be less cerebral and more intuitive. So I figured I’d take a chance, trust my heart, and be less concerned about all the made-up things that were supposedly getting in our way. Cue segue. So how are things with Phil?”

“Don’t ask. I think he’s back together with Lisa.”

“You think?”

“Maybe? I’m not sure. Things have been so confusing and messed up the last couple weeks …”

“Well, the bright lights of New York City are right around the corner. Plenty of new adventures to be had.”

“New York’s not meant to be, either.” My throat tightens. I can no longer even feign being cool and detached. I am the total opposite.

“Why? What happened?”

“My mom totally freaked, and now my parents refuse to let me go to NYU. I’m going to live with my aunt and go to school in Chicago. I can’t even live on campus. It’s that or community college and live at home.”

He takes a breath. “Holy shit. That sucks. I’m so sorry, Maya. They’re still being that way even though they discovered the bomber wasn’t a Muslim?”

“Believe it or not, my mom actually argued that the fact that the terrorist wasn’t Muslim added to her point. It’s too dangerous even when the guy isn’t Muslim, so imagine if the next terrorist is.”

“And your dad’s going along with it? It makes no sense.”

“I know. He’s totally on her side. No matter how irrational she acts. Obviously, he agrees with her, but he won’t say it out loud, just defers to her instead. And without them paying for it, there’s no way I can afford NYU.”

“Has your aunt tried talking to them?”

“Hina is the one who came up with the idea of me living with her so I can have a semblance of freedom and not have to live with my parents.”