Darius the Great Is Not Okay(75)

The truth was, I hadn’t actually touched it since we’d arrived.

Laleh wormed her way next to me on the couch. Her silky headscarf was out of place, but it looked cute that way. She was soft and warm against my side as she laid her head on my chest and closed her eyes.

I loved my little sister. When I looked at her, I felt the same way as when I stared into the ancient flame of the Atashkadeh. Or when I heard the azan ring out across the city.

Dad found us like that, curled up against each other. He mussed my hair, but the joke was on him, because it was still wet from my shower. He dried his hand against his leg.

“Homework?”

“Just some reading for econ.”

“I’m proud of you. For doing it.”

I wasn’t sure what to think of that—Stephen Kellner, expressing pride in me—but he was trying to make things better between us.

I wanted things to be better too.

“Thanks.”

Laleh yawned and snuggled against my arm.

I could have stayed like that forever.



* * *





Mamou hugged me good-bye. She kept kissing me on one cheek and then the other, alternating back and forth until my face was hot enough to boil off the tears she left behind.

She took my cheeks between her palms. “I love you, maman.”

“I love you too. I’ll miss you.”

“Thank you for coming to see us.”

“I loved it,” I said.

And I had. Really. I loved Mamou’s hugs, and her cooking, and her laughter. I loved it when she let me help her with the dishes. I loved it when we sat together and drank tea.

I told myself I was going to call her every week on Skype. I told myself I’d always come say hi whenever Mom called.

But I knew deep down I was going to fail.

Because each time I talked to her, I’d have to say good-bye.

Now that we were part of each other’s lives—our real lives, not our photonic ones—I didn’t know if I could survive that.

I’d finally managed to open up the well inside me.

I didn’t think I could block it again.



* * *





Mamou turned to wrap up Laleh in a Level Thirteen Hug.

I couldn’t watch.

I slung my Kellner & Newton Messenger Bag over my shoulder and dragged my suitcase to the door, where Babou waited. The creases around his eyes were seismic in the morning light, but they were turned up.

“Darioush-jan,” he said. “Thank you for coming.”

He took me by the shoulders and kissed me on both cheeks.

“Take care of your dad. He needs you. Okay, baba?”

“Okay.”

No one had ever told me Dad needed me.

But I wondered if maybe it was true.

Maybe Babou saw something I never had.

I wasn’t sure if he really wanted it, but I reached out and hugged him. His face was scratchy against my cheek.

Babou surprised me when he wrapped his arms around me too.

“I love you, Babou.”

“I love you, baba. I will miss you.”



* * *





The worst was watching Mom say good-bye to Babou.

They knew they were never going to see each other again.

I thought about what Mom had said: how she wished I had known him before. Back when he was warmer. Stronger. Happier.

I knew she was saying good-bye to that Babou too. The one who carried her piggyback through the streets of Yazd. The one who tucked her in at night. The one who picked figs fresh from the tree for her every summer.

Babou kissed Mom on the forehead and then ran his fingers through her hair. The same way Mom always did to me.

I didn’t think she would ever stop crying.



* * *





I watched Mamou and Babou wave to us, silhouetted in the front door, until Dayi Jamsheed’s SUV turned the corner and they disappeared.

Laleh was already out again, drooling on my hoodie.

Dayi Jamsheed’s SUV rode a lot smoother than the Smokemobile, even if he had learned how to drive from Babou, all evasive maneuvers and unsafe velocities.

With Laleh against me, and Mom talking to Dayi Jamsheed in soft Farsi, I started getting sleepy myself.

Dad looked back at me and Laleh. He caught my eyes, nodded toward Laleh, and smiled.

We were going home.





THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS



I thought I would feel different—transformed—by my trip to Iran. But when we got back home, I felt the same as always.

That’s normal.

Right?

Laleh and I took two days off from school to get over our temporal displacement. Dad and I still watched Star Trek: The Next Generation every night, sometimes with Laleh and sometimes by ourselves.

When we watched “The Best of Both Worlds, Parts I and II”—Dad made a special exception to the one-a-night rule for cliff-hangers—Laleh got scared and ran up to her room.

I hoped she’d be back.

But maybe not right away.

“It’s kind of nice when it’s just us,” Dad said.

“Yeah. But I don’t mind if Laleh watches. Sometimes.”

Maybe I did feel different after all.