Darius the Great Is Not Okay(57)

“Your sister wanted to spend time with you. You spend all day off with Sohrab, wandering around doing who knows what, and Laleh’s here all alone.”

I was pretty sure Babou had been home all day too, so Laleh had hardly been “all alone.”

“You really hurt Laleh’s feelings, storming off like that.”

I didn’t storm off.

I made a tactical withdrawal.

“You guys started without me. Again.”

“I didn’t want your sister to wander off.”

“Well, would that be so bad? For us to watch it without her?”

“She’s your sister, Darius.”

“This was supposed to be our thing. You and me. This was our time together. And she’s ruining it.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I might actually enjoy watching it with her?”

Stephen Kellner had never hit me. Not ever.

But this felt like it.

What was it about me that made it so easy for him to cast me aside?

Was it because I was such a target?

I swallowed and took a deep breath. I didn’t want my voice to squeak.

“Fine. Then watch it with her.”

“Don’t be upset, Darius.”

“I’m not upset, okay?”

Stephen Kellner didn’t like it when I got upset.

He didn’t like it when I had feelings.

“Darius . . .”

I shoved myself off the ground.

“I’m going to bed.”



* * *





Even when Dad stopped telling me stories, he made a point of saying “I love you” every night before I went to bed.

It was a thing.

And I always said “I love you” back to him.

It was our tradition.

That night, Dad didn’t tell me he loved me.

I didn’t tell him either.





THE TOWERS OF SILENCE



Mom knocked on my door the next morning, long before the azan. We were going to see the Towers of Silence.

I had to wait in bed a few minutes for my own Tower of Silence to go away.

So far I had stuck to my plan not to go number three in my grandmother’s house, but it was making my mornings increasingly awkward.

“Darioush!”

“I’m awake.”

Mom was back to calling me by my Iranian name.

I wished she would make up her mind.



* * *





I stood in the cool morning, my hands stuffed in my pockets.

Déjà vu.

But this time, it was Stephen Kellner who pulled the Smokemobile around.

Laleh and I crammed ourselves into the back. Babou climbed into the middle next to Mamou. His mouth was set in a perfect line. Dad kept trying to meet my eyes in the rearview mirror, but I avoided him.

Laleh was wide-awake. Wide-awake and angry. Her eyes were puffy, her voice scratchy. “I don’t want to go.”

“You’re going,” Mom said from the passenger seat. “We all are.”

It was clearly a running argument.

Laleh groaned and buried her face in my side.

It reminded me of when she was little—really little—and I would get to hold her whenever Mom and Dad needed a break. Even if she was wound up, she’d eventually fall asleep on my lap, her face mashed into my shoulder, arms limp, mouth drooling.

That was my favorite version of Laleh. When all I had to do was hold her, and she loved me more than anything. And Star Trek was something only Dad and I did.

I didn’t want to share. Not Star Trek.

I hated how selfish I was.

But then Laleh wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. She let out this soft sigh.

She was mad at Mom and Dad, but she was content with me.

It was so hard to stay mad at my sister, even if I wanted to.

And it was Dad who had decided to replace me, anyway.

Not Laleh.

The drive to the Towers of Silence wound around the base of the mountains outside Yazd. I sat in the back and tried not to throw up as Stephen Kellner navigated the undulating roads at unsafe velocities.

“Here!” Mom shouted.

My neck nearly snapped when Dad slammed the brakes. He pulled into an unmarked gravel parking lot.

The Smokemobile sputtered and fell silent when Dad pulled out the key. The Black Breath enveloped us again, heavy with the scent of burnt hair and scorched popcorn and a hint of The End of All Things.



* * *





    The rising sun painted the khaki hills red and pink as we hiked the dusty trail. Mom and Dad led the way, Dad offering an arm to Mamou here and there. Babou took the slope on his own, more slowly. For a moment I wondered if he needed help, but then I remembered how he had clambered over the roof to water his fig trees. And how Sohrab said we were supposed to watch him until he was done. So I hung back to keep an eye out and hoped he wouldn’t fall.

Laleh walked with me. When her energy ebbed, and she started to whine, Babou turned around and took her hand.

“Laleh-khanum,” he said. “Don’t you want to see the top? It is very beautiful.”

“I don’t care!” Laleh pouted, stretching her complaint out until it snapped.