Other Side

21 | All in the Family

The next morning, the house was a little quieter than usual.

Talia poked her head into Zaid's room before heading to the bottom floor, finding the expanse empty and the black covers of his bed pulled taut. She couldn't make out his voice coming from downstairs either, just the low hum of conversation from her grandparents' morning coffee and news session, which took on a slightly different form than the evening one.

Instead of cursing out the TV, Fouad cursed out his Twitter news page.

For a man of seventy-four, he was surprisingly less technology-averse than the average boomer, owning a more recent iPhone than her own. Talia supposed his work as a chemistry professor at a nearby university kept him young, as he famously claimed, "I will retire when I am dead."

"Sabah al-khair," Fouad greeted her, lifting a small cup to his lips.

"Sabah al-noor," Talia beamed, sliding into the seat across from him. "Where's Zaid?"

"Out with his friends," Teta Salma answered, reaching to serve her a bowl of oatmeal. Talia held up a polite palm, knowing she wouldn't eat it. She'd only come down to figure out Teta's adopted grandson's whereabouts. "Fahed. And the Lebanese one, I believe."

"Oh, you mean Paul," Talia chuckled, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "Will he be back soon? Zaid, that is." She knew she was making it obvious, and that Zaid had every right to live his own life, but she wished he had informed her he'd been planning to leave today, so she could have made plans that didn't include him.

God, was she growing that attached?

"He didn't tell us," Fouad said, leaning back in his chair. He flickered his brown gaze over her awaiting expression, absorbing the details for a moment, before a small smile tugged on his lips. "Am I missing something?"

Teta placed a light hand on his arm, coaxing him with her eyes. "Let's leave this to them, hayati."

"Leave what to them?" he prodded, tapping his chin.

His tone was teetering on playful, but Talia still wanted to dissolve into her seat. She'd never discussed her thoughts on any man with her father; now his father wanted her to spill her feelings to him?

"Fouad," Teta warned, but Talia cut in.

"There's nothing between us in that sense," she said, ignoring the voice in her head screaming fucking liar. "However, Zaid and I have gotten to know each other over the past couple weeks, and we now get along...well. Very well, you could say."

"Unexpected?" He snorted, folding his arms over his crewneck. "Talia, I've had my contingency plan in place since the moment your father told he was okay with you staying in the same house as another twenty-year-old male." It was still hard to detect the exact emotion underlying his tone until he broke into a grin and added, "My dating policy has always been 'anyone but a white man,' for the record."

Talia slapped her hand over her mouth to contain her laughter, but Teta frowned, holding on to her husband's arm.

"Fouad, I believe they consider us white in this country, too."

"Tell that to my airport horror stories," he grumbled, pushing his chair back. He walked to the toaster by the back window and popped in a slice of artisan bread. Speaking with his back to her, he added, "I only asked to get a genuine reaction out of the girl, Salma. Lord knows Zaid would never admit the truth to me."

"Because you terrify him, ya Fouad."

He nodded. "Good. As I should."

If only Talia was transparent and weightless, so she could have evaporated into the air, but alas, she weighed a solid one-hundred-thirty pounds, gluing her to her seat at the kitchen table. "Well, now you both know," she said into her hands, knowing the red of her cheeks was more than visible to her two curious grandparents. "But I guess you shouldn't have too high expectations. I'm leaving soon, after all, and I don't know when I'll be back."