Bittersweet (19 page)

South End’s season felt anti-climatic when they steam rolled over West Roxbury because Leahy got injured. They faced Tewksbury for the third state championship. A balanced, yet predictable team, South End was able to overwhelm them with bursts of strength from the offense. ‘Bursts of strength’ was code for ‘Hassan here and there.

Edy’s first competition for Youth International, a set of regionals in Boston, fell over holiday break, during the time when they would have been ice skating on Frog Pond or holiday shopping. Hassan’s first job had been to get Edy to the Marriott Long Wharf at the split of a.m., all the while battling cagey nerves he’d never seen in her.

“This is you,” he’d assured her.

“This is me.”

“This is you.”

“This is me.”

“Conquer.” He’d given her a fist pound on the drive, a mighty hug where he had to leave her, and a kiss when they parted because he couldn’t help himself.

“This is you,” he’d reminded her.

He’d tracked backwards bumping into everyone on the exit, so proud of his Cake that his heart tried a jailbreak.

“This is me!” Edy had yelled.

And she advanced that day.

She came back with pamphlets and papers and bright wide eyes, lashes batting as she talked about semi-finals in New York and colleges with dance programs.

“There are so many,” she said, breathless and contagious with excitement. “My whole life I’ve been shoved toward Harvard and there’s a whole world of colleges with majors like Ballet, Dance Anthropology, Dance Therapy, and Choreography.”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t dare say anything as he drove. The last time they broached college he wound up having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Edy stared at him. “Would that be okay? If we looked at schools together?”

“Yeah.” It came out in a whoosh of an exhale. “Yeah of course.” Because he’d go anywhere with her. Everywhere with her. She had to know that by now. “We’ll compare notes and come up with a solid plan. Then we’ll run away together.”

She’d grinned enough to show wisdom teeth at that.

~~~

Christmas wasn’t much of a spectacle that year. Nathan kept to his study for a lot of it. Rebecca, who had resigned her position as district attorney, but had yet to be sworn in to the Senate, stayed holed away in their bedroom; stepping out only for a cup of coffee or a trip to the toilet. Hassan and Edy sat around in holiday gear: him in a button up, sweater, and slacks, her in a burgundy low cut dress he wanted off. They didn’t even have the benefit of a Dyson party on the horizon. Georgia had performed well enough to keep the twins away, so the Dysons followed the team on the road.

Hassan and Edy stared across the coffee table at each other. Presents sat under the Christmas tree ignored, forgotten.

 “Should we just exchange ours?” Hassan said. And look forward to a life minus our parents, like this?

Edy’s gaze darkened, then deadened, as if sensing his thoughts and making peace with them. She inhaled the length of the room and buried her face in a single shaking hand. He’d made it halfway to her when she stormed out altogether.

Hassan cursed without knowing why. Or maybe he did know why and it scared him. Either way, he chased Edy down the hall. She burst into the study.

Nathan started. “Now sweetheart, you must know to knock before entering closed doors.”

“I’m sorry,” Edy said. “But do you realize it’s Christmas?”

“Yes, of course.” Her dad looked away. Floor. Wall. Desk. Couch. “I’ve placed presents under the tree, but these papers, my dear …” He trailed off at the slackness in his daughter’s face and sighed. “You’re absolutely right. I can spare some time.”

“It seems to me like you have a lot of time to spare when you want it,” Edy said. Her gaze slid over to Hassan. “Can we talk about that?” She took a seat on his couch as if he’d already agreed. Hassan excused himself and closed the door to the study.

He collided with Rebecca in the hall.

“What are you doing?” he said.

“Getting coffee. What else?”

He tried not to roll his eyes. “Drink it downstairs. You can’t be doing anything. You don’t even have a job right now.”

“There’s preparation, you know.”

That time he did roll his eyes. “Come on now, Becca. Everyone knows Congress doesn’t work.”

She smirked at that. “You don’t want me down here.”

“I don’t ask for things I don’t want.”

They eyed each other suspiciously.

“Edy doesn’t want me then.”

“Look, Becca. Why are you here, if not to spend the holidays with us? You’re obviously waiting on an invitation. So, here it is: please, join us.” He resisted the urge to shove her down the hall and into a seat; her eyes blazed that bright with hope.

“I’ll bring my work,” she said.

“No! What is it with you people and work? Is it your crutch?” The second he cried it, Nathan’s study opened, and out, of course, stepped Nathan.

Hassan clamped a hand on Rebecca’s arm instinctually. “We were just headed for the living room,” he announced. His brows lowered, frowning at Edy.
Is this okay? Am I okay? Or did I overstep my bounds?
She shook her head slight,
no you’re fine
, and met him with a small smile.

So, Hassan celebrated a quiet Christmas with the Phelps intact. He suspected it would be for the last time.

After Christmas, the holiday season improved dramatically. Well, it did for Hassan, anyway. For one, Edy had decided to join him and Lawrence on their 5 a.m. jogs, which were beyond fun because she bundled up in a sweatshirt, woolen cap, gloves, and pair of track pants no matter what he told her. They paced their runs, not because she couldn’t handle the distance, which she absolutely could, but because Edy wore too much stuffing to keep up. Then she took to handing off her layers as she warmed up. ‘Hassan hold my scarf.’ ‘Lawrence hold my hat,’ which he wasn’t up to doing. Edy’s shenanigans made creaking his eyes open to sweat it out that much better. Especially after waking up next to her.

The second bit of news came from across the street. On a bitter morning when the snow fell in gentle drifts, Wyatt Green lumbered from his house, steps still awkward, and piled suitcases in the trunk of a taxi. He asked Hassan to tell Edy goodbye.

Which he did.

Spring came and Edy rode down to New York with her dad and Hassan for the semi-finals. There’d only been a little talk between her and Hassan about potential schools. There’d been a lot of talk between her and her dad about Harvard. During their heart-to-heart in his study, she told him she wasn’t interested in an Ivy League education. He, in turn, felt ‘dismay, but not shock.’

Slowly, Edy’s mom had begun moving things out, things that the household had forgotten were there. Boxes in the attic, files in the study, dishes that her parents never found a way to use. On the rare occasion that her parents crossed each other in the hall or the staircase, they averted gazes and tried to give each other the widest right of way.

For the ride down to New York, Hassan was in ultra-support mode. He had registration forms, copies of correspondence, and the various itineraries stacked and sorted. He had words—the rights words he hoped—for her jittery nerves, nail biting and constant string of doubts. She could do this, he reminded her. Success was doing your best. She’d been validated, hadn’t she? She was there among the best.

Edy fell short of advancing to Prague, but wound up with a trophy and scholarship ten grand scholarship nonetheless.

~~~

“Wings,” Hassan said, stretched on Edy’s bed.

“Pixie dust,” she answered as she lay next to him.

“Pixie dust? Oh my God, Cake, choose different. That’s a dumb answer. You’d get killed.”

Edy punched him. “Like you’re so equipped for survival. I could tear your wings off.”

“I could knock over your pixie dust!” Hassan swept for Edy’s hand to demonstrate and her body went taunt; stretching from bed to the floor in an effort to escape his reach. He tickled her and she smacked at him, giggling and crying out foul.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “So, the two of us are going into battle and we each get one magical power.” He clapped his hands. “Easy. I’d pick power and slay you. Boom.”

“Power?” Edy sat up and made a show of thinking. “I’d pick invisibility, Mr. Show Off. Good luck with your mission.”

Her bedroom window rattled with a thunk.

“Jeez!” Hassan cried and scrambled on over. Edy met him there as he yanked it open and a wash of humid air flushed in.

Hassan lurched and a rock sailed straight past Edy. “Whoever this is, I plan on killing them,” he said.

“Sorry!” came a familiar hiss from below.

Hassan’s head darted out. He clearly wasn’t thinking because Edy had to pull him back in. He could have been seen, of course.

“Lawrence?” Hassan whispered. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

He waved a sheet of paper like a truce flag. “I’ve got the rankings. They don’t come out officially until tomorrow, but my dad’s friend at
The Globe
let him get them tonight.”

The rankings. The rankings listed every blue chip football player in the country in order of worth. These were the guys who pretty much had their pick of school. These were the guys that made athletic officials think about breaking the law.

“Come up!” Hassan said.

Lawrence didn’t move.

“Man, come on! Everyone’s asleep.” Hassan glanced behind him. “And hurry.”

Lawrence scaled the tree. Lithe as a cat and quick, he was at the window in five motions.

“Well?” Hassan demanded, pulling his friend inside. “Did I make it?” He felt game day nausea, plus a bout of appendicitis.

Lawrence took a deep breath. “Yes.”

Hassan nearly punched him. “Well? Tell me before I chuck you back the way you came. What’s my number? Don’t soften it; just give it to me straight.”

“Okay,” Lawrence said. “Number one.”

Edy clamped a hand over her mouth, but him, he couldn’t do that. Number one running back was phenomenal. Insane. He’d have his choice of strong offers.

“Are you sure? Number one running back?” He whispered it as if afraid he’d jinx the rankings in some way.

“Not running backs.” Lawrence thrust the paper in his face. “Just number one, Sawn. Number one in the country.”

Hassan snatched the paper from him, tearing it, and held on with trembling hands. His eyes gaze swept from bottom up, until there was no more up to go. On a list of one hundred and fifty of the best high school soon-to-be seniors in the country; Hassan Pradhan topped them all.

He was the very best.

Edy threw her arms around him, bouncing like she did when excited, but he could barely register her hanging on like the world’s wildest noose.

“Where’s Lawrence?” she said.

“I didn’t make it.”

“What?” Hassan said. “I thought I saw…”

 A stab of horror found him as his eyes swept over the list. He went from the top down.
Nothing
. Then back up.
There.

Forty-seven. Relief came in torrents.

“Lawrence,” Hassan breathed. “You made it.” He deserved to make it, too.   

 “And you look so surprised.” Lawrence grinned.

With a laugh, Hassan swept him into an embrace so tight, Lawrence grunted with the squeeze. He’d done it. They’d done it. They were the best in the country.

The press and recruiters turned maniacal not only on Hassan, but on his parents, too. Ali’s assistant fielded countless messages from jockeying athletic departments and reporters. Rani stopped answering the phone at home and had to clear the voicemail daily. Hassan even changed his cell phone number, but found that the people he wanted to avoid most were the first to find him anyway.

Though they had more alone time with Youth International in the past and football season over, all their conversations revolved around the college selection process or his latest plan to get out of his arranged marriage fast. Try as she might, Edy couldn’t convince him that a quick scheme wouldn’t solve their problems for good.

“Well, have you got something better?” he’d snap again and again. “Something guaranteed to work? A magic spell? A potion book?”

“Not everything can be handled at a rush, Hassan.” That was her line to speak. She never missed it, not ever. “All this takes patience. We’ll figure it out in the end.” She believed. She hoped. She prayed it was so.

She’d watch him pace her room, mowing creases in her carpet. His looks came fire branded, his strides lightning quick.

“You won’t lose me,” she’d have to tell him. “I won’t go. I promise.”

That night he stopped, took a breath and shut his eyes. “Mala’s dad is a fan of American football. He spent time in the States awhile back and … he’s told everyone that his—his …”

Just say it.
Future son-in-law.

“That his future son-in-law was ranked number one in the nation?” She didn’t achieve the lightness she’d hoped for, and found her voice did something weird instead.

Suddenly, she was nose to nose with Hassan.

“You know, I can read you as well as you can read me,” he said.

“Yeah?” Her gaze dropped to his lips, which made her lick her own. He had a way of stealing all the oxygen, no matter the conversation.

“New plan,” Hassan said and stood up straight again. “Mala’s not going to crack. I’ve tried talking to her a thousand times. But the girl she runs with seems like—”

“We could sit our parents down,” Edy said. “And tell them we’re together. Then see what happens.”

Hassan looked at her. “You know what would happen.”

“But we can’t be afraid forever.”

Edy stood, warming to the idea. “Maybe this is the time to do it, while the excitement is high from the rankings release. You can’t possibly think your parents would send you away now. Not going into senior year.”

“What about you and mom?” Hassan said. “You’re on again, off again. You can handle what comes with that? The fall out? The drama?”

Maybe she was naïve in thinking they could talk it all out and reach a resolution. After all, people took up arms and died everyday for religious and philosophical differences. Whole countries had been ransacked, destroyed, burned, forgotten, because differences like theirs couldn’t be talked out.