“They wouldn’t think that,” I say. I can’t imagine Amma and Abba ever thinking that I’m not worth all of their sacrifices just because my life hasn’t turned out exactly as they pictured it. Especially since Amma already told me that they had to shift their perspective ever since I came out as bisexual.
“I just … don’t want to disappoint them,” Ishu says. She gives one firm nod of her head like that settles that, before yawning so loud that it shatters her veneer of perfection. “Oops.” She covers her mouth and glances over in my direction. I can only grin. I wonder who the people are that Ishu lets herself just be around. Her sister? Her parents? Does she have any friends outside of school? I feel like I can’t ask her any of that though.
“I guess we should get to sleep, huh?”
“I can get you pajamas.” Ishu leaps off the bed and toward her wardrobe, digging around until she withdraws two pairs of PJs. Both of them look to be in such pristine condition that I’m a little afraid of putting them on and getting them all messed up.
Still, we both get changed, and—after one quick text to Amma—I crawl into one side of Ishu’s bed. Ishu, though, just kind of looks at me while rubbing her elbows.
“What?”
“I can sleep on the floor?” she offers, like a total weirdo.
“You know we’re Bengali, right?” I ask. “I’ve slept in a single bed with three other people that I hardly know.”
Ishu cracks a small smile. For a moment, it seems as if she wants to say more. Instead, she crawls into bed beside me, pushing herself so far toward the edge there might as well be an ocean between us.
“Good night, Hani.” She sighs against her pillow.
“Good night, Ishu.”
chapter twenty
ishu
I’M BASICALLY WOKEN UP BY CHOKING ON HANI’S HAIR. As good as her shampoo smells, nobody needs that much hair in their mouth first thing in the morning. Coughing slightly—and trying not to wake Hani—I shift away from her.
My phone reads 5:56 a.m.: four minutes until my alarm is supposed to go off. I turn it off for the day and move to the edge of the bed once more. The bed frame creaks with every movement, and I keep glancing back to see if Hani stirs. But she’s still sleeping like a log. I guess she’s a pretty heavy sleeper.
She’s sleeping almost in the middle of the bed, as if this room and bed belong to her. What an odd position to sleep in, but whatever I guess.
I squeeze my eyes shut and will myself to go back to sleep. After all, we were out late enough yesterday. My routine has been thrown off. I should be able to sleep for longer. But no matter how long I close my eyes for, sleep doesn’t come. I’m wide awake.
So I decide to get up, slip into the bathroom, and get ready for the day ahead.
When I get back into my room twenty minutes later, Hani is already dressed. She’s folding up the pajamas I gave her for the night.
“Hey, good morning!” she says in the kind of cheerful voice nobody should use in the morning. Or ever, really.
“Morning …” I mumble. “You were like dead to the world when I woke up a few minutes ago.”
Hani catches my eye and shrugs. “Guess I came alive to the world? I should go … do you know if there’s a bus that goes from yours to mine?”
“My parents can drop you off. You should stay for breakfast, at least,” I say. If Hani leaves without eating something, that’ll be a huge offense. Hani should know that.
“I should really go.” She insists, not looking me in the eye. “I mean, I wasn’t home last night and I don’t want to go home super late this morning, you know.”
“It’s literally six thirty in the morning?”
Hani heaves a sigh. “Yeah, but …” She shrugs, like it is what it is.
“You know most buses haven’t even started running yet. It’s Sunday … what’s up with you?” There’s a weird restlessness to Hani this morning that I don’t think I’ve ever noticed with her before.
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and finally meets my gaze.
“It’s just … I missed the night prayer yesterday. And if I go home now, I can pray the dawn prayer before time’s up.”
“Oh.” I have never heard Hani talk about prayer or praying before—not that I’m friends with her or anything. Still, I didn’t even know she was someone who prayed consistently. I doubt she shares that with her friends, considering her hesitancy in telling even me. “You can’t pray here? I mean, we don’t have a prayer rug, but …”