Other Side

20 | Alif Ba

When Talia and her grandmother returned home, hands and stomachs full, they found Zaid and Fouad engaged in the undying debate of football versus soccer as a game of the latter blared on the living room TV.

Zaid, of course, was wholly convinced of his incontestable opinion, appearing smug as he lounged on the couch, arms above his head and legs wide apart. He trailed his eyes up Talia's chest to her face as she dropped off her bags in the corner of the living room. Fouad kept droning on even as Zaid lost interest in both the game and his argument, soon cut off by Salma's hand pulling him into the kitchen.

Zaid rose from his seat and walked around the coffee table to stand in front of Talia. He kept a distance, as her grandparents were still in view, but there was less reticence on his side as he brought his face closer to hers. He flickered his gaze over her perfectly lined eyes and contoured cheeks sprinkled with highlighter.

"Would it flatter you if I said I missed having you around today?"

She bent down and shoved the small shopping bag into a much larger one full of sweaters. "No. Because I didn't." Zaid's eyebrows knitted together, and the corners of his lips dropped. Looking up, she snorted. "Gosh, Zaid, I'm only teasing. I thought you were the blueprint for this kind of shitty humor."

"Yes," he bit back, glancing at the bags at her feet, "when I am using it." He noticed the mountain of winter clothing inside. "You planning on staying here for longer? I figured you'd be stalking up on shorts and T-shirts."

"California isn't that warm," she said, though she knew he didn't care to talk about the weather. The slight acrimony in his tone hinted that he was thinking about their parting—and he wasn't happy. Sighing softly, she folded her arms over her cream-colored sweater and glanced up. "Why...do you want me to stay?"

He said nothing, eyeing her grandparents heading to the stairs, and then picked up the remote from the coffee table. He changed the channel to the evening news and sat down again, pretending to be interested in a story about a local grocery store bankruptcy.

She sat down on the armchair across from him. "You're not going to ignore me, are you?"

"I'm not mad at you," he said, tilting his head away from the screen.

"I never said you were mad, Zaid."

He paused for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek. "But what if I am? Just not at you."

She pressed her fingertips into the soft surface below her, hoping this wouldn't turn into another useless argument. "Did something happen while I was away?"

He shook his head. "Ta'ali," he ordered softly after a moment, replacing his signature "come here" with its Arabic counterpart.

Talia refused to believe a single word could always flutter her insides, but there she was, melting on the inside, floating to him like a magnet to metal. "I'm here," she said, sitting down next to him. When a door upstairs banging closed, she relaxed and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"That's better," he murmured, cupping her cheek. His thumb brushed her skin, probably getting some metallic highlighter on it. "You look much better here."

"Well, aren't you in a mood," she mumbled, sliding her hand to the middle of his chest. She could feel the hard grooves of his muscles, only a thin T-shirt covering them. "Maybe I should leave you more often."

"No," he breathed, resting his cheek on the back of the couch. He still held her, just with a hand around the back of her neck. His voice dropped a notch, eyes no longer meeting hers as he added, "That's what I hated about today."