Page 58 of If I Loved You Less
ChapterThirteen
After work that Monday, I invite Shanzay over. She has recovered from her cold, and I must tell her the dreadful news. How I wish I did not have to tell her about Emad, but I know I must.
I wait until we’ve had a delicious meal of tomato soup and grilled cheese and are sitting cozy in front of the roaring fire before I do.
“Shanzay, at the party…” I begin.
After it is done, she is in a state of shock.
“O-Of course,” Shanzay says, swallowing hard. “It was silly of me to imagine... Of course he loves you.” Her lower lip trembles like a child’s. “You are so much prettier and refined and cleverer?—”
“No, no,” I say, taking her hands. I want to cry, but hold off. This isn’t about me; it’s about her. “Shanzay, he will regret this, hewill. There is no one better than you! I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you for saying that,” she says, eyes welling with tears. “I just feel so foolish.”
My chest tightens. “I am so sorry for the pain I have caused you,” I say. “I want you to be happy, and I was so sure of his feelings for you…”
“No, it isn’tyourfault,” Shanzay says, shaking her head. “You were only trying to help, and I appreciate it so very much.”
But she is heartbroken all the same. She is crying and trying very hard not to.
“God, this is all my fault,” I say, feeling wretched. “Shanzay, I’m so sorry. Come, let’s make you feel better.” I think for a moment about what’s to be done. “I can call the spa!” I offer. “We can get facials and massages and pedicures, then go to the mall …. or out for afternoon tea! That always cheers me up. Then?—”
“No, there is no need for all that,” she says. I think she is just saying that for takaluf’s sake, and I want to say I’ll pay for it all, of course, but I can see she means it.
I am reminded of something someone in college said to me once:You can’t use money to solve all your problems!To which I replied,Why ever not?
Perhaps this is one of those situations.
“What can we do then?” I ask. I realize I do not know what to do to cheer her up.
I miss Mama fiercely at that moment. She would know what to do. And despite not being the one rejected, I feel awfully sad as well. I wish Mama was here, even if not to give me advice, but just to lay my head in her lap, the way I used to.
I would set the pillow down on Mama’s lap and cuddle against her. Once, she went to lay a hand down to my hair but missed and ended up smacking my face.
“Ah, Ama!” I whined, but it made me laugh.
“Oops, sorry, gudiya,” she replied, pinching my cheek. She moved to stroke my hair, tucking it behind my ears. “Teek?”
I nodded. “Hmm.”
I miss moments like that: simple and filled with love.
“We don’t have to do anything,” Shanzay says, voice trailing. She nibbles on her bottom lip.
“No, no, we must,” I say firmly. I reach for her hands and squeeze them.
“Well ... we could stay in?” Shanzay suggests. “Maybe eat junk food and watch movies?”
“Excellent idea,” I say. Thank God. Something I cando. “Consider it done.”
I instruct Shanzay to pick the movie while I grab all the unhealthy food I can find. Unfortunately, when I return with cookies, chips, popcorn, and chocolate, I see Shanzay has picked a horror film.
“Is this alright?” she asks, cocooned in blankets and pillows. I do not have the heart to tell her I hate horror films and never watch them.
I simply nod, smiling brightly, and suffer through it.
And she does not stop with one. Apparently they are her favorite type of film, which I did not know because previously whenever we had movie nights we would watchmyfavorite type of movies: period dramas.
