Page 101 of I Hope This Finds You Well

I almost spit out my own water. Damn, that was believable.

The moms look at him with absolute glee. “Here,” his mom says, tearing a piece of bread and adding it to his plate, then pushing over the bowl of eggplant dip I was just eyeing for myself. “You need to eat.”

Holy shit, of course! How did I not realize before? Armin is a doodool tala. Direct translation: “golden penis” (because of course). Basically, he’s a mama’s boy who can do no wrong and must not lift a finger in the process.

Even worse, he’s a doodool tala who hasn’t become a doctor or lawyer—or accounting executive—even as his mom is ailing. It’s a wonder his bullshit isn’t wilder.

I smile toward Armin. “All the bosses ask Armin to lead their projects. He’s the most precise and efficient.” Two impressive buzzwords.

“Ahhh,” all the parents hum.

Armin shoots me a grateful smile. “Well, Jolene has the best ideas. I was talking to Gregory—my second-in-command—and apparently head office was so impressed by her suggestion at a recent meeting that they may implement it across Canada.”

My face flushes because Armin doesn’t sound like he’s lying this time.

“Jolene’s always been a very innovative thinker.” This comment comes from my dad, and it’s his proud grin that hits me the hardest. He continues: “When she was a kid, she helped design the shelves for her mom’s spice rack.”

Mom claps. “And I made so many good meals because of this.” She pats Armin’s hand that’s sitting on the table. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach Jolene to cook better. Is that the problem?”

Armin opens his mouth in surprise, but before he can respond his mom cuts in: “Jolene is so beautiful. Did you notice her right away?”

Armin grins. “Absolutely. I couldn’t help it. Tried asking her to go for poutine, but she shut me down.”

“Good girl,” they all chant. My gaze draws to Armin again. The poutine story really happened too. Was he actually doing that when we first met?

My skin flushes, and the room is suddenly warmer. Obviously, we’re notlike thatnow, but how many things—how much—have I missed?

It’s an odd type of melancholy that washes over me as they all laugh around me. I think of the girl I was when I first started at the office, all the experiences and chances I’ve denied her. My throat dries.

“So why are you fighting?” my mother suddenly says. “You are very in love!”

What?Armin and I lock eyes, twin looks of horror creeping onto our faces.

This isn’t a celebratory dinner. This is an intervention.

“You are both very busy,” Armin’s mom says, “but once you are married you will see each other every day.”

“We’re fine, Mom,” Armin says. “Work has been very hard lately, but we’re still in love.”

I widen my eyes at Armin. What happened to letting them down gently?

“Good!” my mother says, clapping her hands in delight. “Now drink some tea!”

As the teacups are passed around, I can’t help but admire the waymy mom glows, the joy she’s taking in serving Mr. and Mrs. Habib. There’s a world where she’s completely made for this—if I’d just given her daughter a chance.

The conversation across the table shifts as my mom starts to comment on how the food at this restaurant compares with others’. She starts to break down her recipe for ashe reshteh and promises to cook it for Armin. “Of course, I can make you best stuff just like your mom.”

Armin smiles. “Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble. I’ll send with Jolene for you at work.”

Armin seems to relax into the idea. And there is a part of me that would really love for it to all be true. I mean, obviously not the Armin part—the ship that was my ability to find him even remotely attractive sailed away a long time ago. But it’s the way our families are meshing, the comfort of being with a group of people who all like one another. My mom’s high shoulders, the rare softness in my dad’s expressions. I haven’t thought about the mess at the office once since I sat down.

If this were real, it would be kind of... wonderful.

I swallow over the lump in my throat as more food is served family style, and we all attack it, but politely. No tense questions arise like they normally do when it’s just me and my parents. They cling to Armin’s every word, but I even get the golden treatment of a second helping without having to do it myself.

Maybe I can live in this world just a little bit longer.