business.”
“Matchmaking, Tayta. Matchmaking, not lovemaking.” Seventy years in this country and it was amazing what words she didn’t know. “I’ll be nice to Tiffany, and you keep this.” He tossed the envelope onto the bed,and it rested atop the bundle of Fatima’s mother’s letters. The letters were more faded than the last time he had seen them, but he remembered all the times Fatima used to flip through them in Detroit when she was sad, as if she could read them.
“They’re for Nadia when I’m gone,” Fatima explained.
“You’ll outlive us all.”
“Don’t say such wicked things,” she admonished.
“I’m sorry again, Tayta.”
He kissed her hand and held it for a few minutes. Then he went downstairs without taking back the envelope. In the kitchen, he rinsed the hummus out of his beard and hung it up to dry. He would make a point of not wearing the beard for Tiffany. He had always hoped that he would not fall in love until Fatima was gone, as she would not like his taste in a partner. However, he wasn’t in a hurry to be in love or for her to die.
In fact, in the last couple of days he had learned a lot from Fatima’s conversations with herself. He could picture Nadia in her diplomatic speech pleading for Elias’s release. But he couldn’t see Lena in any wedding dress. It would be hard for a guy to get close to someone who never told anyone what she was really thinking. Amir, unlike his cousins and most of his aunts and uncles, had lived with Lena for many years, as they both had been raised in Fatima’s house at the same time, the favorite grandson and the youngest child. Lena had been Amir’s baby-sitter, had taken him to
Star Wars
movies the very day they came out, and had bought him anything he wanted with the money she made at McDonald’s during high school.
Fatima needed her kids, and he could use the break. Lena was his best bet because she never said no. Even on the days when Fatima would say that she herself would drive Amir to school, Lena never said no. Fatima would drive the whole way, telling him that if the cops stopped them and asked for her license, he had to pretend that his appendix was bursting and they needed to get to the hospital. Fatima couldn’t admit to anyone, not even the Department of Motor Vehicles, that she couldn’t read, andso she had never taken a driver’s exam. Still, Fatima’s driving beat going to school with Ibrahim, who never said a word.
Amir sat down in front of the computer.
Dear Lena,
I hope this e-mail finds you well. I am fine. Tayta is fine, and the weather is a beautiful 75 degrees here today. Foggy though. They call it June Gloom. Tayta talked a lot today to herself, but that could be because I upset her.
Why would Lena do him a favor? The last time he had even bothered to befriend her had been when he was looking for an agent.
Did I ever tell you that Darcy, the friend of your friend, turned out to be a doll? She’s really putting my career on the map, and I’m out on auditions for all kinds of parts. I just wanted to thank you for that. Please come visit. We miss you!
xoxo, Amir
He picked up a mustache and stuck it onto his face. He looked at his reflection on the computer screen and then at the picture of Fatima on his desk.
“By the name of Allah, woman, I will cut off your balls and feed them to the goats,” he declared. “My camels will curse you from hell.”
He reached down for a script and checked the line. Yeah, he was ready for his audition tomorrow. Saddam Hussein as a young man. Jesus Christ, he needed a better agent. Or a better heritage. Or the Omar Sharif audition.
IF AMIR HAD been looking out his window instead of at himself, he would have seen Fatima under the fruitless fig tree, her pink robe now tucked into sweatpants, bobby pin readjusted to hold up her purple hair. Scheherazade’s special cigarette had left her awake—and hungry.
“Psst,” Scheherazade whispered from atop the neighboring
“Matchmaking, Tayta. Matchmaking, not lovemaking.” Seventy years in this country and it was amazing what words she didn’t know. “I’ll be nice to Tiffany, and you keep this.” He tossed the envelope onto the bed,and it rested atop the bundle of Fatima’s mother’s letters. The letters were more faded than the last time he had seen them, but he remembered all the times Fatima used to flip through them in Detroit when she was sad, as if she could read them.
“They’re for Nadia when I’m gone,” Fatima explained.
“You’ll outlive us all.”
“Don’t say such wicked things,” she admonished.
“I’m sorry again, Tayta.”
He kissed her hand and held it for a few minutes. Then he went downstairs without taking back the envelope. In the kitchen, he rinsed the hummus out of his beard and hung it up to dry. He would make a point of not wearing the beard for Tiffany. He had always hoped that he would not fall in love until Fatima was gone, as she would not like his taste in a partner. However, he wasn’t in a hurry to be in love or for her to die.
In fact, in the last couple of days he had learned a lot from Fatima’s conversations with herself. He could picture Nadia in her diplomatic speech pleading for Elias’s release. But he couldn’t see Lena in any wedding dress. It would be hard for a guy to get close to someone who never told anyone what she was really thinking. Amir, unlike his cousins and most of his aunts and uncles, had lived with Lena for many years, as they both had been raised in Fatima’s house at the same time, the favorite grandson and the youngest child. Lena had been Amir’s baby-sitter, had taken him to
Star Wars
movies the very day they came out, and had bought him anything he wanted with the money she made at McDonald’s during high school.
Fatima needed her kids, and he could use the break. Lena was his best bet because she never said no. Even on the days when Fatima would say that she herself would drive Amir to school, Lena never said no. Fatima would drive the whole way, telling him that if the cops stopped them and asked for her license, he had to pretend that his appendix was bursting and they needed to get to the hospital. Fatima couldn’t admit to anyone, not even the Department of Motor Vehicles, that she couldn’t read, andso she had never taken a driver’s exam. Still, Fatima’s driving beat going to school with Ibrahim, who never said a word.
Amir sat down in front of the computer.
Dear Lena,
I hope this e-mail finds you well. I am fine. Tayta is fine, and the weather is a beautiful 75 degrees here today. Foggy though. They call it June Gloom. Tayta talked a lot today to herself, but that could be because I upset her.
Why would Lena do him a favor? The last time he had even bothered to befriend her had been when he was looking for an agent.
Did I ever tell you that Darcy, the friend of your friend, turned out to be a doll? She’s really putting my career on the map, and I’m out on auditions for all kinds of parts. I just wanted to thank you for that. Please come visit. We miss you!
xoxo, Amir
He picked up a mustache and stuck it onto his face. He looked at his reflection on the computer screen and then at the picture of Fatima on his desk.
“By the name of Allah, woman, I will cut off your balls and feed them to the goats,” he declared. “My camels will curse you from hell.”
He reached down for a script and checked the line. Yeah, he was ready for his audition tomorrow. Saddam Hussein as a young man. Jesus Christ, he needed a better agent. Or a better heritage. Or the Omar Sharif audition.
IF AMIR HAD been looking out his window instead of at himself, he would have seen Fatima under the fruitless fig tree, her pink robe now tucked into sweatpants, bobby pin readjusted to hold up her purple hair. Scheherazade’s special cigarette had left her awake—and hungry.
“Psst,” Scheherazade whispered from atop the neighboring
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