Darius the Great Deserves Better - Adib Khorram Page 0,81
was just scared.”
“Scared? Why?”
I looked down at my hands and rubbed the pads of my index fingers over my turquoise thumbs.
“I don’t know,” I said.
How do you explain the fear that someone you love might stop loving you all of a sudden?
But Mom said, “Is that why you haven’t told Mamou?”
Maybe Mom did understand after all.
Maybe she did.
“I just don’t want her to be disappointed in me.”
Mom held my face between her hands. “Oh, Darius. You could never disappoint her. You are the sweetest boy in the world. You know that?”
I shook my head. “I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m really not, though.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because I’m not sweet. I’m selfish.”
I told her about Trent, and about Chip.
About Chip saying he liked me.
And about Chip saying he was sorry for everything, and me not forgiving him.
“Sohrab says friends forgive each other. But how can I do that when Chip’s best friend has made it his personal mission to make my life miserable? I mean, Chip used to help him. And now he says he likes me?”
I shook my head.
“What am I supposed to do?”
Mom looked at me for a long time.
“You’re so young.”
She said it like it still surprised her. Like it was a wonderful thing, to be young and angry at the closest thing you had to a friend this side of the Prime Meridian.
“When you’re young and full of feelings, sometimes they come out in the wrong way.”
“So I should just forgive him?”
“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying, it’s something you do when you’re young. And hopefully you grow out of it. Does Chip still tease you?”
“No.”
“Does he treat you badly?”
“No. He’s fine.” I thought about all the times Chip helped me study. About asking me over to his house. About trusting me with Evie.
“Chip treats me fine. He’s nice to me. But he’s still friends with Trent.”
“You can’t control who people are friends with,” Mom said. “Especially if they’re family now.”
“I don’t want to. That would be a crappy thing to do to someone. But I just . . . I don’t know how I can ever trust him.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know how.”
“You deserve people in your life who make you happy, Darius. No matter what. Just remember that. Okay?”
“I’ll try.”
“I’m not going to tell you to forgive Chip. But he seemed like a good friend. I hate for you to give up on him if you’re not sure.”
“So what do I do?”
“Only you can decide.”
A NEW FUTURE
In the morning, Mom called a family meeting.
In its entire history—spanning back to its Teutonic roots in pre-unification Germany on Dad’s side, and its legacy in the bedrock of Yazd on Mom’s—the Kellner-Bahrami family had never called a family meeting before.
We were breaking new ground.
Mom got up early to make a big frittata. I cut my run short so I could help her segment some oranges and slice a few apples. I made a big pot of Persian tea, and Mom set out a plate of Tagalongs she’d gotten from the annual office Girl Scout Cookies sale.
As we ate, Dad announced that he was going to take one more trip to Los Angeles, just for two days, to pass the project off. And he was going to step aside from his Arkansas job.
I told everyone about Landon and me.
“But I liked Landon!” Laleh said.
“Me too,” I said. “But . . . well, sometimes things don’t work out.”
“Who’s going to be your boyfriend, then?”
“No one, I guess. I’m going to finish off the soccer season. Hopefully by then I’ll have a new job. And I’ll be able to work more hours, to help out.”
“Just for a little while,” Dad said. “And then you’re going to save for your future. Whether that’s college or something else. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Laleh told everyone about her constellations project. She’d gotten a gold star on it—the highest ranking Miss Shah awarded—and made a new friend too.
“Avan’s grandpa is from India,” she explained. “That’s almost like Iran’s neighbor. He visits there every summer.”
I was glad Laleh was making friends.
I loved my sister’s smile.
Grandma and Oma announced they were going to head back home.
“We’ve been in your hair long enough,” Grandma said.
And Mom said, “We’ve loved having you,” which was a high-level taarof if there ever was one.
There was a strange energy, a vibration humming through the entire Kellner house.
A new future was being born.
* * *
I helped Grandma with her and Oma’s laundry, folding pants and sweatshirts and matching socks, while she