Darius the Great Deserves Better - Adib Khorram Page 0,18
Stephen?” Oma asked. She rinsed off the pot and then pulled the plug to let the sink drain. “And your mom and Laleh?”
“Dad likes to let Mom sleep in on the weekends.”
“Hm.”
But as soon as I said that, Mom stepped into the kitchen, already dressed for work.
I hated when she had to work on weekends.
“Those smell so good,” she said, kissing Grandma and Oma hello. “Save one for me?”
“Of course,” Oma said.
Mom kissed me on the forehead on her way out the door. “Have fun with your grandmothers.”
“I will. Thanks.”
While I made a pot of Assam, Laleh came downstairs, no doubt lured by the same tantalizing scent that had roused me from bed.
“You want to help ice them, Laleh?” Grandma asked. She handed Laleh the little plastic canister of icing.
“Yeah.”
Laleh used a fork to drizzle zigzags of icing over the rolls in their circular pan while I set the table for five.
“Your dad’s not still in bed, is he?” Grandma asked.
“Just taking a shower,” Dad said from the doorway. He was in his blue sweatpants and a gray Kellner & Newton T-shirt, his short hair still damp and messy. He usually kept his blond hair combed and styled with a perfect side-part, but that was before he and Mom were tired all the time.
“Did you leave the fan on?” Oma asked. “We’re going to clean the bathrooms after breakfast.”
“You don’t have to do that, Linda.”
Dad always called Oma by her first name.
“Someone’s got to.”
Dad cleared his throat and rested his hand on my head. “Who’s hungry?”
* * *
After breakfast, I ran upstairs to make sure the bathroom was okay before Grandma or Oma got to it.
I mean, I’d been keeping my bathroom tidy since I was fourteen, when I noticed just how much leg hair I was shedding and felt weird that Mom and Dad had to sweep it up all the time.
And, since I shared the bathroom with Laleh, I was pretty careful not to leave anything awkward in view.
Not that I owned anything that awkward, anyway. Just an open box of condoms with only one missing, because Dad made me practice putting one on a cucumber during one of our talks.
Persians are more likely to have cucumbers around the house than bananas.
There was no way I would use any of them before they expired. I told Dad that. But he said to hold on to them “just in case.” Which is why I had a box of condoms hidden in my nightstand with only one missing.
Okay. Two missing.
I practiced on myself, one time.
“Just in case.”
“Darius?”
I banged my elbow against the counter.
“Ow.” I looked up. “Hey, Laleh.”
“What’re you doing?” she asked.
“Just making sure I . . . um, we had cleaning supplies and stuff. For Oma and Grandma.”
“I think cleaning is their favorite.”
“I guess.” I set the all-purpose cleaner on the counter.
“Are you almost done? I have to pee.”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“Thanks.”
* * *
After dinner—one of those frozen lasagnas you bake in the oven, a staple of Grandma and Oma’s culinary repertoire—I made a big pot of Dragonwell.
“What’s this?” Oma asked as she sipped.
“Dragonwell. Long Jing. We tasted it yesterday.”
“It’s lovely.”
“Yeah.”
Grandma poked her head out of the fridge, which she had decided to scour from top to bottom. “Your dad said you got a job.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s great.”
Oma nodded at me, and we sipped our tea in silence.
It wasn’t an Awkward Silence, but it was an uncomfortable one.
Once Melanie or Linda Kellner said what they had to say, that was it.
They were as averse to small talk as Vulcans.
Dad popped his head in from the living room. “Darius. You ready for Star Trek?”
“Yeah. You want a cup?”
He nodded. “Mom? Linda? Want to watch with us?”
“No thanks,” Oma said.
And Grandma had already buried her head back in the fridge.
So I poured Dad’s tea, and topped off my cup, and settled on the couch to watch “Explorers,” this really excellent episode about Captain Sisko and his son, Jake, taking a voyage together in a replica of an old solar-sailing ship.
In the morning, Dad would be taking a voyage without me.
I felt melancholy and unsettled as I sat there with Dad’s arm around me, and I scooted closer to him so I could rest my head against his shoulder, although I had to kind of scoot forward on the couch in order to reach.
Ever since I grew taller than Dad, all my habits had to shift.
It made me melancholy.
And unsettled.
* * *
Sunday morning, the lights were on when I got home from my run. The garage