Bittersweet (20 page)

Summer came and Edy enrolled in another intensive at Boston Ballet. Meanwhile, Hassan trooped across country as if on a world tour. He’d been invited to elite skills camps for top running backs, top offensive players, top football players, and more. He had weekends set aside for the best specialty clinics in the nation. He and Lawrence would hop from one training facility to the next, milking every minute of summer until they returned home for the fall.

Edy decided that she would major in dance. She had lunch with her mother at a Back Bay café to break the news. It was accepted in steaming silence, like most everything between them. When her mother had asked how she expected to fund her ‘education of leisure’, Edy informed her that she had a ten thousand dollar scholarship useful for college anywhere.

That got a laugh, a wild laugh, an uproarious laugh that drew eyes. ‘And the rest?’ And the rest?
And the rest?
She’d insisted. ‘I could work. I will work. I’ll get two jobs, if I have to.’ No, Edy had never had a job. No, she’d never considered what she was qualified to do. She was a hard worker, though, and someone would give her a chance. ‘Well, I won’t support this,’ her mother said. ‘You won’t use my savings to play around with your life.’ Her father, like usual, had concurred tactfully when Edy took it to him.

So, the decision stood before her: a ‘respectable major’ and the safety net of her parents, or dance, dance in a freefall of life. Some choices the soul made for the mind, while others were willed by the heart. For Edy, there was but one option at all: dance and the life it brought with it.

Edy thought back to when she took her first summer intensive in New York. She’d been feverish from missing Hassan and desperate to hear his voice. Now, they were seniors and distance was what they knew. The physical distance that came with her competitions, his training, from their life. Then there were the subtleties of separation they tried to ignore: his media attention, the ravenous recruiters, and the weight of being number one.

On the cusp of their eighteenth birthdays, truth bore down on Edy; she and Hassan could talk or not talk, either way she’d be okay. The rush, the burn to make contact may have ebbed away. She was too used to withdrawal and knew more would come. Most of the camps and clinics he visited over the summer took away his cell or otherwise put restrictions on outside calls. Even when they didn’t, the demands on his time were so overwhelming, conversations could last only a moment or two. So, when Edy heard from him, he was usually about to board a flight or check in at a camp in a state they’d never been to. Their conversations stayed brief because he needed to call his parents, too. And then he was off again, for a day, a week, sometimes two.

Not that she hadn’t set the precedent for busyness and made him suck it up. Now that their roles were reversed, Edy found the sharp stab of emptiness at his absence dulling to a quiet ache.

She filled her days with dance and hung out with Chloe, Kori, and Gwyn at night. Sometimes TJ came along and they had quiet conversations where he’d ask questions, like, “are you sure you already know who you want to spend your life with?” Or, “what’ll you do if he walks away one day? After you guys wreck this whole family setup?” Always, TJ asked in this philosophical way, as if all answers were valid, as if a lack of an answer was equally valid. They were long past the days of him hitting on her or otherwise acknowledging his attraction; Edy and TJ had real conversations, long conversations, in quiet, tucked away moments at parties. He never said Edy and Hassan wouldn’t work. He never said they would if they believed in love, either. Instead, questions curled from him as if Edy piecing together her feelings was all that mattered, not how the future unfolded.

At seventeen, nearly eighteen, she wasn’t ready to say that she’d do anything her whole life. But her love for Hassan was the purest she’d ever known. She didn’t doubt that and she didn’t doubt him, whatever the future may bring.

Hassan returned on a Tuesday and Edy forgot that she hadn’t missed him. Edy forgot that she thought herself content for a second without him.

Lies.

She rushed the taxi as it pulled up and nearly skidded when the back door flew open. He emerged broader and bulkier in the morning sun, and his hair, fluttering back from his brows, had been burnished in streaks from the sunlight. He was rugged muscle and thick-carved perfection, with a pure, bright smile. Her smile.

Edy dove into his arms.

“Cake,” Hassan said and squeezed her extra tight. “I’ve been crazy without you. So crazy.”

She swallowed guiltily. “What are you doing in a cab? Why didn’t you get picked up?”

That seemed to remind him that the driver needed money. Afterward, Edy helped him lug the luggage into the house, up the staircase, and into his room.

“My flight was overbooked and I got bumped to the 9 p.m. departure,” he said. “I told mom and dad I’d get a cab home. Then suddenly they had a spot for me. So here I am.”

“Here you are,” Edy said.

Was it her or did he look older? Hardened? Sharpened in some fundamental way?

“Don’t stand so far,” Hassan said. He took a seat on his bed and pulled her into his lap. “I want you close. I love you close.”

Oh, he smelled incredible. Leather, yes, and a touch of sweat, a promise of sweeping masculinity.

“You’re right,” Edy said. “I’m not nearly close enough.”

She nuzzled at his neck and warmed the second his arms wrapped tight around her. What had she be thinking? What had she believed? That she’d prefer a day without him? It would never happen. It could never be. She trailed kisses from the pulse of his neck to his lips and they kissed.

Oh, did they kiss.

He pulled her up as he leaned back, cradling with both arms so that she lay on top of him. His touch came slower, gentler still, stirring ribbons of desire straight down into her toes.

She kissed him harder, hungrier, and felt his hands on her back, caressing, massaging, touching skin on skin as they heated.

“Edy,” Hassan groaned and worked at the buttons of her shirt.

“Your mom? Your dad?” Fear, sparked in her.

“Gone,” he gasped and pulled at her shirt even harder. She fumbled, hands shaking in her haste to help him. Buttons flew off; her chest constricted; it really had been a long summer.

Downstairs, a door slammed.

“Hassan? Hassan, are you here?”

Rani.

Edy leapt from his lap and yanked at her gaping shirt. Absent buttons meant the lace of her bra peeked out in condemnation. Hassan strung curses like a chant and scrambled to smooth his bed. Edy swung around and caught a glimpse of her frizzed hair in the mirror as the bedroom door flew wide.

Rani screeched. The sound made Edy want to paw at her ears, push past her, and rush out the door.

“Mom,” Hassan said. “Mom, please. Be calm!”

“Be calm? She sees the other boy, you fool!”

“You told me to!” Edy cried.

Rani barely registered her. “Did you know she writes to him? The neighbors say she visited him in the night.”

Hassan hesitated. “What?”

Edy looked from one to the other, heart triple beating for a burst. It was the worst time, the absolute worst time, for truth to reveal itself.

“Edy?” Hassan said. His voice did something weird.

“I wanted to know the truth about what happened to Lottie. I—I wanted to know if Wyatt was okay or as bad as the rumors said.” Her hands twisted together viciously, skin rubbing on skin.

“You went to his house?” Hassan said. “Where was I? When was this?”

She dropped her gaze, preferring the floor to a stare full of demands. “We had the Latin game. You were there.”

“I was there,” he echoed dully.

Emotion caught in her throat. She resisted the urge to cry. He couldn’t
not
believe her, not when she loved him the way she did.

“Please, Hassan. You couldn’t ever believe that I’d …” The back of her hand pressed her mouth, shaking and unsteady. “I love you,” she said. “You know that. You know that still, don’t you?”

“You cling to him,” Rani spat. “It isn’t love; it’s unhealthy.”

“I love you, too,” Hassan said. “I’m just terrified when you go near that guy.”

“Get out!” Rani cried. “I’ve had enough! Go!”

She snatched Edy by the shirt and shoved her out the door.

“Mom!” Hassan said. “What are you doing? Leave her alone!”

In the hall, Rani snatched for Edy’s shirt, making it gape further. Edy gripped the fabric with both hands, desperate to keep it on.

“I want you out our house! I want you out our lives!” Rani shoved hard in Edy’s side.  

“No!” Hassan cried.

The floor slipped away, the hall pitched, and Edy tumbled into darkness.

Edy opened her eyes and stared up at a flat white ceiling. She inhaled and the crush of pain forced air back out.

“Small breaths. Take it easy.”

Her gaze slid in the direction of the voice and a dark round face stared back at her.

“How’s the pain?” the nurse said.

The pain rose up to greet Edy, bold and snaking.

“What happened? Where am I?”

Edy jerked to sit up, but her body laid deadweight and leaden. Hysteria bubbled from down deep as her eyes swept the room.

“Tell me what’s wrong with me.” This was a nurse; they were in a hospital. She last remembered fighting with Rani. Hassan yelling. Then this bed.

“Hassan?” Edy said. “Where’s Hassan? Is he okay?”

“Stay calm,” the nurse said. “He’s outside. Wait, I’ll get him.”

It didn’t take long. When Hassan stepped in, he had a police officer beside him.

“You’re awake,” he said. There was so much bright relief in those words that she began to cry in a horrid mixture of fear at what might have been and consolation that he was there. 

“You’re okay,” Hassan said and found her, to run a hand through her hair. “You’re okay, Cake. Everything’s all right. You’ll see. You’ll be fine.”

The officer stood in one corner of the tiny white room, tall, brooding, attentive. “Can you answer a few questions?” he said. “Can you tell me what happened to you?”

“Our parents are in the waiting room,” Hassan said. “They agreed to let you be questioned first.”

Police. Police here to question her about the fall. Edy’s gaze met quick with Hassan’s.

This was his mother. This was their mother under suspicion.

“I slipped and fell,” Edy said. “I got a little clumsy, that’s all. I don’t know why you’re here.”

~~~

Edy left the emergency room with a broken nose, a freshly repositioned shoulder bone, and a body of contusions. A day passed and then another. No one questioned Edy’s version of events except her mother, and even then, she did so only once in her usual clipped, removed tone. Neither Edy nor Hassan saw much of his mother, who had taken up temple visits feverishly and shut herself away in the room. She didn’t cook; she didn’t clean, and no one spoke a word about it.

About forty-eight hours after the Rani debacle, Edy’s father came home sullen, pensive, and studying her as if he hoped to learn something. It was mid-day summer hot, blistering really, and relief came in snatches of wavering shade and fast-draining lemonade. She’d been lounging on the patio swing with Hassan at her side. He hovered now, constant, diligent, and attentive.

“We’re going to visit the Cape,” her father explained in that delicate way of his. “The ocean air should be good for you and we could all use the vacation time.”

“We?” Hassan said.

At this, Edy’s father met his gaze uncomfortably. “Our two families, Hassan. Us, your parents, and Rebecca.”

Edy exchanged a look with him. This vacation would be good for her. It’d be Molotov-cocktail-doused-in-gasoline good.

What a blast.

“Well, it’s settled then,” her father said. “Your mother expressed an interest in seeing you. She’s also part owner of the house. Now go pack. We leave tonight.”

They journeyed in three cars up the strong arm of Massachusetts, curling along the coast until their caravan reached North Truro. Edy rode with Hassan and the two sat in silence. On arrival, Rani made a beeline for her bedroom and slammed the door shut.

“Headache,” Ali apologized.

Edy spent the first night flipping through magazines in bed. Her shoulder managed to ache, so she took some pills for inflammation and pain, and channel surfed with Hassan.

Edy’s mother showed up the next afternoon. As for Ali and Edy’s dad, they were painfully, obliviously, all about family time.

“I suggest a movie marathon,” Ali said. “We can eat snacks and take turns selecting the films. Perhaps, my wife will feel up to this. She’s not been well lately, you know.”

“I vote for board games,” Edy’s dad said. “They invite discourse and camaraderie.”

They looked to Edy for a suggestion. She wanted ‘c’ for none of the above. She’d been hoping for a little alone time on the beach with Hassan.

Edy exchanged a look with him. It appeared they’d be getting none of that, judging by the way both dads hovered over her. With them and Hassan at her side, they collided in their eagerness to do everything but breathe for Edy. On their second night at the Cape, they settled down for pizza and Scrabble, with even Edy’s mother taking part. Rani had another headache and stayed in their bedroom that night. Meanwhile, Hassan mixed his English, Hindi and Punjabi, from the start, anticipating a rough battle.

Morning peeked over the horizon and Edy stared at the ceiling, reliving those moments before the fall, twisting them for a new outcome. Rani demanding that she get out her life, her shoving Edy away, the plunge, the plunge, her heart banging out a wounded cadence. Edy wouldn’t go to her. She would
not
go to Rani.

Her heart, if not her nerves, felt like it was time for something else.

She found Hassan on the beach behind their house seated on the rock they’d carved their names into.

“Show me where,” Edy told him.

He had no trouble finding it: “Hassan + Edy”. The ‘plus’ hadn’t been there before. Edy traced it with a finger. Hassan revealed a sharp stone.

“I’m ready to tell them now,” she said.

He jumped off the rock and pulled her into his arms, careful to mind her arm. “I know,” Hassan said. “Let’s go.”

They gathered their parents in the living room. Ali hustled in, overeager and hands rubbing, while Edy’s dad took a sharper eye, silent, on guard. Rani took a seat on the far edge of the couch and leaned against the armrest, massaging her head. Never once did she look at Edy. Finally, Edy’s mother sat with a legal pad in hand, alert, attentive, professional.

Edy took her place before the firing squad and Hassan came beside her.

“I can talk if you want,” he said, but she shook him off, waved him off.

She was seventeen, nearly eighteen, and had a lot she needed to say. For the first time, she had the will and courage to speak. How could she pass this off to another, when her heart willed her to shout.

“There’s no way to cushion what I need to tell you,” Edy said. “So, um, I’ll just talk. Hassan and I are in a relationship. We’re in love. We love each other.”

Hassan took her hand and squeezed.

Ali’s smile was the first to go, followed by the motion of her mother’s pen, and Rani’s headache. All four parents stared at them in what had to be the most attention Edy had ever seen. The tick of a mounted clock on the wall went on and on.

Finally, Edy’s dad cleared his throat. “How long has this … love ensued? I’m not surprised—”

“You’re not surprised?” Ali snapped.

“No,” her father said. “I’m not. You shouldn’t be.”

Edy’s dad wanted an answer. Forever, was what she wanted to say. But she knew they’d dismiss her as a childish. This was her chance, her only chance to be taken seriously.

“When we fell in love is kind of a weird question,” Hassan said. “Given our history and our lives together. Take this place for instance. Our first memories are of loving each other, of being told to love each other by you guys,” he said. “That’s what we were taught.”

“Don’t try to turn this on us!” Rani said.

Every head turned to face her. Edy’s dad frowned in faint disapproval. Her mom scribbled on her notepad.

“Mom,” Hassan said and put a hand on Edy’s arm. He swallowed. “Calm down.”

“Hmm,” Edy’s mom said. “Now, that’s an interesting reaction.”

She was sharp, Edy thought, razor sharp and baiting them. Her mother knew Edy’s fall had been suspicious.    

“Your mother has a point,” Ali said. “You’ve romanticized your upbringing because it serves your purposes, no?”

“We’ve told you the truth,” Edy said. “I have no control over how you take it.”

“But it’s difficult, sweetheart,” her father said. “This relationship you propose.”

“It’s impossible,” Ali said. “I would not hurt you, Edy, but this has been decided. He has to marry Mala. I’m sorry.” Sadness etched his words.

“Why?” Edy demanded. She pulled away from to take Ali’s hands in hers. “Tell me why, please.”

Ali looked away.

“Dad?” Hassan said uncertainly.

“A long time ago,” Ali said. “I borrowed a great deal of money from Mala’s father. He was a grade school friend, well off, and generous enough to give more than I needed.”

Rani’s eyes shot wide. “When was this?”

Ali could find nowhere to look. “Hassan was in diapers and we had far too many bills. We could not manage. Those first few years were difficult.”

“We were fine!” Rani cried. “We were always fine! You said so.”

“We were not fine,” Ali said dully.

“You had my dowry.”

“I rejected your dowry on principle,” Ali said.

“Fool,” Rani spat, voice low, word like a dirty breath.

Ali turned on her, sharp enough to make her instantly sorry. Edy backed away, heart a stone, heavy in her chest.

“I hold my principles here,” Hassan’s father said and thumped at his chest. “And I will not apologize for that. Certainly not to my wife.”

“So you borrowed this money,” Hassan said. “Then what?” He took a seat in an armchair.

Ali nodded apologetically. “Yes, well. I was unable to pay it immediately, so he put interest on it. Then, when my father was elected to Lok Sabha, Mala’s father expressed an interest in politics. But he lacked the necessary connections. He’d also just had Mala, so he made a proposition: forgiveness of the loan in exchange for a marital union between our children. We went through the business of consulting a matchmaker discretely. Their horoscopes were only adequately matched, but in the end, I consented. It meant better connections for our family in India, a strong match for my son, and a way to avoid financial ruin.”

“Why wouldn’t you borrow the money from me?” Edy’s dad said, annoyance plain.

“Because the house had come from you,” Ali said and again he earned baffled looks.

Hassan’s father heaved a desperate sigh. “My family is an old one. We once had a great deal of money, enough to match the prestige. When I was being matched with my wife, I allowed the old assumptions of wealth to prevail. Furthermore, in my eagerness and youth, I embellished concerning my possessions. Nathan, here, had inherited both houses on Dunberry, as his father had built them. He lived in one, but was reluctant to put the other on the market for sentimental reasons. He offered to sell it to me privately, but, of course, I could not afford such a lavish home at market value.” Ali laughed. “He called it a wedding gift.”

“That’s what it was.”

Edy glanced over at Hassan, who sat unblinking, before she cleared her throat.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” she said. “But there’s still the question of us.” She gestured to her and Hassan.

“Oh,” Ali said. “It’s out of the question. I’m sorry.” And he did look sorry, at least.

Edy blinked. “I don’t think you understand. We’re not asking for permission.”

“You sold me to pay off your debts,” Hassan said as if jolted wide awake. “That’s the gist of what you’re saying, right? You sold me and you hope I don’t run off.”

Ali’s mouth flapped open. Hassan stormed off and everyone stared.

“We will be together,” Edy said. “Please get used to the idea.” She looked at Rani as she spoke, but Rani refused to look back.