Darius the Great Deserves Better - Adib Khorram Page 0,78

and whispered back, “Why are we whispering?”

Laleh didn’t look up at me. Her lip turned down and quivered a bit.

“I don’t know.”

It wasn’t like Laleh not to say what was bothering her.

Not to me, anyway.

“I’ll go check on him. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I padded up the stairs. Mom and Dad’s door was shut.

I knocked. “Hello?”

After a moment, Mom opened the door wide enough for her face. “Darius?”

“Hey. Is Dad here?”

“He’s in the shower.”

As soon as she said that, the water turned on.

“Oh. Okay.”

“He’ll be down soon.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything is okay,” she said, but I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or to herself.

“I got the tea you wanted. Should I make a pot?”

Making tea seemed to be the only thing I was good for in a crisis.

“Sure.”

* * *

After about ten minutes, I finally heard the shuffling of footsteps on the stairs.

Stephen Kellner never shuffled.

I nearly knocked my chair over as I ran into the living room.

“Hey, son.” Dad pulled me into a hug as soon as I was within range.

I wrapped my arms around him and rested my head on his shoulder.

There was this thing, though. His shoulder felt bonier. Like he’d lost some weight or something.

For as long as I could remember, Stephen Kellner had been the same weight and size.

I kind of hated that about him. My own weight seemed to be in a state of constant flux, always on the heavy side.

Dad’s beard had grown out even more. It was properly brown, much darker than his head hair, which looked dark gold now that it was long and shaggy enough to brush the tips of his ears.

Whenever I hugged my dad before, I always felt like he was holding me up.

But this time, I was holding him up.

“Dad?” My question was muffled against his shirt.

He brought his hand up to rub the back of my neck and kind of rock me back and forth.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too.”

* * *

I studied Dad as he drank his tea. Really studied him. The dark circles under his eyes. The slump in his shoulders.

“It’s getting worse. Isn’t it?” I asked.

He sighed and nodded.

“It’s just hard. Being away from you and your sister and your mom.”

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” I said. “You can come home.”

“I can’t. We need the money, son.”

“I’m sending out applications. And I’ve got money in my savings. Let me help.”

“No. It’s our job—me and your mom—to take care of you and Laleh. Not the other way around.”

“But . . .”

“We’ll get through this.”

“But we’re not getting through it. You look like hell. And I need you.” My voice cracked. “Please.”

Dad looked down at his teacup. He rolled it back and forth between his hands.

“I need you too. You and your sister and your mom.” He let out this shaky breath and cleared his throat. “You’re my whole world.”

“Then you can stop. Really. We’ll be okay.”

Dad sniffed.

“Remember what you told me, when we were in Iran? That you can lose people to depression lots of ways?”

“I remember.”

“Well, I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t. I promise.”

“Okay.”

He slurped his tea and took a deep breath.

“I missed this.”

“Yeah.”

We sat together. The silence between us wasn’t exactly awkward, but it wasn’t particularly comfortable either.

“Landon broke up with me,” I said.

And then I said, “Or I broke up with him.”

“Oh, son.” He reached out and rested his hand on the back of my neck. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not right now,” I said. “Can we just sit like this?”

“Of course. Or . . .”

“Or what?”

“We could go put on some Star Trek.”

“Yeah.”

PENILE HUMILIATIONS

After Star Trek, we ate dinner and then Dad turned in early.

I finished up my homework and got ready for bed.

I was feeling so weird and sad, I didn’t even go number three before tucking myself in.

I was almost asleep when my computer rang.

There were only two people who ever called me.

I leaped out of bed, pulled my underwear and a shirt on, and went to my desk.

Sure enough, Sohrab’s avatar—a picture of the two of us, the same one I had framed on the wall next to my bed—was bouncing up and down.

I dropped into my chair and hit accept.

There was that weird moment of feedback, and my screen went white for a second. And then there he was, squinty smile and all.

“Hello, Darioush!”

“Hey Sohrab,” I said.

I almost wanted to cry.

Almost.

I was so happy to see him, I thought my cheeks might lock into their smile and I would have

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