“Yeah, when I was a kid, Hani.” I sigh, leaning back to watch the band change into a new song. A woman with a mass of curls tosses them a coin as she passes by.
“Did you like it?” Hani asks.
“I guess …” I trail off, trying to remember what it felt like. It has been years and years. In that time, I’ve moved on from any fascination I had with the guitar, or music in general.
My phone buzzes with a text in my pocket. I slip it out and read Nik’s text, an automatic groan escaping my lips. “I have to tell her,” I tell Hani.
A smile flickers on Hani’s lips. “Well, you’ve been putting it off for a long time. It’s not going to get any easier—maybe harder, actually.”
I lie back on the grass, feeling the heat of the sun on my skin. Hani shifts beside me until she’s lying on the grass too. Even without turning sideways, I can see the way her long, black hair spreads out all around her.
“Imagine you tell Nik that you’ve picked up the guitar again …” Hani says after a long pause. “You’ll be better than her.”
I grin. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
Hani threads our fingers together until I can feel the warmth of her skin against mine. “At least not until I figure out exactly how terrible you are.”
Ammu is in the kitchen preparing dinner when I get home. The aroma of what she’s cooking—chicken curry and rice—fills the entire house.
“Ammu …”
She glances up with a raised eyebrow. “You’re home. Out with Hani again?” She doesn’t sound angry exactly, but there’s an edge to her voice. I guess she doesn’t like me spending so much time with my “friend” when I could be studying. But I don’t let the edge in her voice bother me.
I take a deep breath, and dive right in. “Ammu, you know Nik is getting married in two weeks, right?”
Her eyebrows furrow together at the mention of Nik’s name. I don’t think they’ve spoken in months now. “Yes,” she says with a tone of finality in her voice. She goes back to her cooking.
“You’re really not going to go to her wedding?” I ask. “She’s your daughter … you’re going to regret it.”
She keeps stirring the chicken curry, though I’m not sure it even needs to be stirred. I chew on my lip, trying to figure out how to say the next thing, when Ammu stops and turns back to me.
“If I could go, I would,” she says slowly. “I can’t always do the things I want to. Your Abbu …” She shakes her head. “And anyway, he’s right. If we go now, if we support her in these ridiculous decisions, she’s going to think it’s all right. She’ll never go back to university to finish her degree.”
“She’s not going to go back because you decide to punish her for following her own path,” I say. “She’s just … doing what makes her happy.”
Ammu shakes her head. “We can’t always do what makes us happy. If we did, the world would not function. Do you think we came to this country because it made us happy?”
I sigh. “It’s different, Ammu … you know it’s different … and I’m going.”
Ammu turns to me with a glare. “No, you’re not.”
“Nik already bought me a ticket … and Hani. We’re going together,” I say. “You don’t want to go … okay. But I’m not going to miss my only sister’s wedding, Ammu. You shouldn’t ask me to.”
She’s still glaring at me. I’m preparing all of the arguments in my head. Hani and I have been practicing them together for weeks now—ever since we decided that I couldn’t miss Nik’s wedding, even if my parents did everything in their power to cut her out of our family.
But then, Ammu says, “Fine,” turning back to her chicken curry. “Did you eat out? Or do you want to eat with us?”
“Um … I … I ate,” I say, not sure if I’ve heard her correctly.
“When is your flight?” She doesn’t look at me as she says it, like she’s afraid to be seen approving of my decision.
“Friday … evening.”
“I’ll drive you,” she says. “I’ll handle your Abbu.”
I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips, or the tears prickling behind my eyes. I feel like I’ve picked this up from Hani—too many emotions. I’m not really a crier, but ever since becoming friends with Hani …