Her large extended family gathered on the front porch of Ami Reda’s house. It was a sunny, cool autumn day. They’d just finished a huge breakfast. Reda and her Uncle Taha would be driving Driss and Sara to the airport.
The good-byes had been going on for a good forty-five minutes now. So far, Sara and Driss had only progressed about twenty feet, from the foyer to the front steps. Driss’s mother seemed incapable of releasing her son. Driss’s gaze met Laila’s over his mother’s shoulder as Nadine gave him yet another tearful hug. They shared a glance of understanding and compassion.
“We’d better get going,” Ami Reda said for the tenth time. “If there’s traffic, these two will miss their flight.”
Driss and Sara finally broke away from the many outstretched arms and kisses. Laila’s dad, Tahi, Laila and Driss’s little sister, Sophia, trailed Sara and Driss down the staircase to the sidewalk. Even the next-door neighbors—the Kantari family—were on their front porch, waving and calling out good wishes to the couple.
“Have a safe trip. We’ll talk soon about wedding plans,” Laila promised Sara, whom she’d ended up liking very much. They all gave Sara one last hug. Reda, Taha, Sara and Driss finally made it to the car. Laila and Tahi shared an exhausted smile when they drove off, and turned to walk back up to the porch. She was glad Driss and Sara were so happy together—seeing her whole family rejoicing over the couple.
But it had left her sad, heartsore and very lonely, as well. It was like she was there with her family as a shadow rather than flesh . . .
. . . like she no longer belonged.
She noticed that her father hadn’t turned and started back to the house with them. He stood alone on the sidewalk.
“Baba? What is it?” Laila asked, walking back toward him. She noticed his sober expression and narrowed gaze.
“That car that just parked in front of our house a minute ago,” her dad mused thoughtfully. Laila turned to look at where he stared. Her parents’ house was only two residences down from her uncle Reda’s. “There’s someone waiting inside,” her dad continued. “And the car has Illinois plates.”
Laila immediately recognized Asher’s rental car parked in the street at the curb. Her father calmly started to walk down the sidewalk toward the car.
Adrenaline poured through her, making her veins sting. She began to follow him. She glanced back nervously but saw that everyone else was filing back into Reda and Nadine’s house. No one seemed to have noticed Laila and her father walking away.
As they approached the car, Asher opened the door and got out. He wore a pair of jeans, boots, an ivory button-down shirt and a rugged brown jacket. Despite her anxiety at seeing him standing on the curb in the neighborhood where she’d grown up, her heart jumped at the vision of him. He stood there, waiting for them to approach patiently, his vivid, clear eyes trained on her, his expression somber.
When Laila’s dad got about fifteen feet away, he abruptly paused on the sidewalk.
“You,” he simply said. Laila noticed his expression of recognition and surprise. Laila inhaled shakily for courage and took her father’s hand. She urged him toward Asher.
“I’m sorry,” Asher said quietly to Laila. He looked worried, and very sincere. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your family gathering. I was going to wait until I could get your attention for a private word.”
“You mean you were waiting to pounce on her when she was alone?” Baba interrupted.
“Stop it,” Laila implored her father. She inhaled slowly. “Baba, this is Asher Gaites. Asher, meet my father, Anass Barek. I don’t think you two were ever really formally introduced.”
Asher stepped onto the verge, holding out his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”
Her father didn’t accept his hand, though. He looked very confused. His obvious vulnerability pained Laila. Especially because this time, she knew she couldn’t do anything to make it better.
“What’s going on?” her dad asked Laila.
“Asher
and I haven’t been in contact since that summer in Crescent Bay, Baba. But he returned to Chicago recently, and we ran into each other. We’ve been seeing each other,” she explained quietly.
Her father’s gaze transferred to Asher. Asher slowly lowered his outstretched hand.
“I think you’d better go, young man,” her dad said.
“I came to see Laila,” Asher said politely but firmly, holding her father’s stare. “It’s important.”
“I love him, Baba.”
Both men looked at her. She felt as if she’d just punched her father, but she forced herself to continue. “I’ve never stopped loving him. You said I was too young to know better back then, but you were wrong. Since Asher and I have been together in Chicago, my heart has been so full,” she said, touching her chest lightly, beseeching him to understand. “I’ve never been so happy and alive as I am when I’m with him. He is my other half, Baba. I don’t feel whole without him. Can you please try to be happy for me?”
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” her father said, his brow creasing. “Why haven’t you mentioned any of this to us before?”
“Because I knew it would make you and Mamma unhappy.”