Darius the Great Deserves Better - Adib Khorram Page 0,12

were actually mad at each other. They were frustrated, and worried, and they were doing that weird Parental Voice where they’re agitated but trying to keep their voices down, like they could shield me and Laleh from knowing bad things if only they whispered.

I had gone to the bathroom to brush my teeth and pee before bed, and I heard them talking (my bathroom shared a vent with theirs), which is how I ended up sitting on the toilet listening to them.

“I just don’t see how we can make it work,” Dad said. “I’ve already got the California project lined up, and another after that in Arkansas if it gets confirmed. You’re working overtime. And we still can’t—”

Mom sighed. “I know. I know. I just hate not being there.”

“I know, love.”

Dad murmured something too quiet for me to make out.

“Not good. Mamou says it won’t be long. Most days he doesn’t even wake up long enough to eat.”

They were talking about Babou again.

Things got muffled after that, but I could hear the sound of Mom crying.

It was the most harrowing sound in the universe.

I pulled off a handful of toilet paper to wipe my own tears, but I accidentally bumped the tank on the toilet.

I flushed the empty toilet, just to keep my cover, but that meant I heard even less.

When the roaring water quieted down, I caught a little bit more between my own sniffles.

“ . . . kids about it sooner or later,” Mom said.

“Tomorrow,” Dad said. “Let me check with my parents first.”

Things got quiet after that. Either they’d started to whisper, or they’d moved away from their bathroom.

I washed my hands and took a couple deep breaths and went to bed.

But I still couldn’t sleep.

* * *

When I got home from practice the next afternoon, Laleh was sitting upright at the table, drinking tea and reading an overlarge paperback book. The color had come back to her cheeks, and she perked up a little when she saw me.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey, Laleh.” I leaned down to kiss her head. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah.”

What’re you reading?”

“Dune.”

“Oh.”

I blinked.

“Is it any good?”

Laleh shrugged. “Kind of boring.”

“Oh.”

I went to the teapot and poured myself a cup.

Ever since our trip to Iran, Laleh had taken it upon herself to make tea when I wasn’t home to do it.

She always made Persian tea—black tea bursting with cardamom. It felt like being back in Iran, with Mamou and Babou (when he was sick but could still do things). In their house, the kettle was always on.

I swallowed away my sadness.

“This is good, Laleh,” I said. “Thanks.”

She didn’t look up. “Not too much hel?”

“It’s just right.”

Laleh nodded and kept reading.

I thought about sitting with her, but she seemed like she didn’t want company.

She wasn’t sick anymore, but there was something going on with her. Something she wasn’t saying out loud.

I studied my sister, but she just sipped her tea and turned the pages of her book.

So I went upstairs to do my Algebra II homework. Ms. Albertson had assigned us a bunch of exercises, but I couldn’t quite wrap my brain around the point and purpose of conics.

Who goes around slicing a cone to see what it looks like on the inside?

I ran a hand through my hair, tracing the line of my fade. I liked the way my skin tingled.

Dad knocked on my door frame. “What’re you working on?”

“Parabolas,” I groaned.

“That bad?”

I shrugged.

“Want me to look?”

“Sure.”

Dad stood over my desk, resting his hand on the back of my neck. He gave it a squeeze as he read over my equations.

The light from my desk lamp cast his face into sharp relief. The lines around his eyes looked deeper, and I remembered the weird tension in the car ride home from my game, and how he and Mom had been whispering last night.

“Is everything okay?” I blurted out.

“What?”

“Just . . .” I swallowed. “Things seem weird. With you. And Mom.”

Dad sighed.

He moved his hand down to my back.

“Things are okay,” he said. “Money’s just a little tight right now, after the trip to Iran, and sending money to help out Mamou.”

I nodded.

Dad drummed his fingers on my back. I didn’t think he knew he was doing it. “With your mom working so much overtime, and me being out of town, we thought it would be good if your grandparents came to stay with us for a while.”

“Oh,” I said.

The thing about Dad’s moms was, even though I knew they loved me and Laleh, I never got