Love from a to Z

And then . . . later . . . you can talk to her . . . Zayneb.
“Everyone’s either in the kitchen or on the patio.” I led the way down the
hall. “There are some people in here, as well,” I added, pointing to the
sunken living room on the right.
“Not me. I go to where the food’s at,” Ms. Raymond said, continuing
ahead. “Zayneb, have fun.”
“What do you mean?” Zayneb stopped at the entrance to our large
kitchen, buzzing with guests. “Are you saying I can’t follow you?”
“Of course you can, Zoodles, or Adam can show you where the young
people are, right, Adam?”
“Sure. But I think you should get food first. It may be the best thing at
the party.” I nodded at Zayneb. “Sad to say, but it’s true.”
“Okay. Then tell me what I should try.” She stepped into the kitchen and
turned to me, standing in the hall. “My aunt told me your dad caters
interesting cuisines.”
I followed her. “He went South Indian today. You’ve got to try the masala
dosa. It’s this type of crepe with spicy potatoes. Those are my favorite.”

---

“This is too funny. My best friend is Tamil, and I’ve eaten this food tons
of times.” She took a plate and put two round, spongy rice cakes on it. “My
favorite. Idli. You just pour the sambar on top, and the idli soaks it in, and it
tastes amazing.”
She ladled vegetable curry on top of the cakes. The curry had been kept
hot on burners, so when she returned the ladle to the pot, wisps of spiced
steam scented the air between us.
I took a plate and added dosa and potatoes to it. “I guess I can eat too.
Energy for my door-duty shift.”
“It looks so good.” Zayneb scooped some of the sauce with a spoon and
tasted it. “And it is good.”
We stood there for a minute not saying anything, just eating. Then she
paused and looked at me. “So where are all these people my aunt wants me
to meet?”
“Mostly outside. I’ll point the way, but I gotta stay back. Committed to
the doorbell.” We walked to the living room with our plates, Zayneb
looking at the pictures on the stucco walls along the way, mostly single-
subject photographs taken by Dad.
She paused in front of a close-up of a bee and then glanced up at the dark
wood beams running across the ceiling. “I like your house. It’s like how I
imagined a Spanish villa would look. Like when you read stories where
people live in pretty villas, you know? This is what I would picture.”
I don’t know why, but when she said that, the light went back on inside
me, like it had at the door.
She was pretty open. Okay sharing what she liked.
I felt a need to show her the best part of our house.
“Then I think you’re going to like this.” Now that we had taken the two
steps into the living room, I pointed to the left, where the three sets of
arched French doors were flung open onto our large, cobblestoned patio,
beyond which lay a neat lawn. Beyond that were steps leading down to a
boardwalk edging the Arabian Gulf, with the white sails of small yachts and
traditional dhows dotting the water along the horizon. It was my favorite
scene to look out at, especially on a night like this, with stars flecking the
vast dark sky.
“That is beautiful. Oh my God.” She set her plate down on a side table
and went toward the middle set of doors.
The doorbell rang, so I put my plate beside hers and went to answer it.

---

When I got back from walking the latest guests in, she and her plate were
gone.
• • •
Dad beckoned me over to where he was standing with some guests when I
stepped out on the patio, doorbell duty done. “Adam, come say hello to
some new DIS teachers. This is my son, Adam.”
I shook hands and, in between learning names, glanced around. And saw
her.
She was sitting cross-legged on one of the enormous fake white rocks
that the landscapers at our residential community thought would be perfect
scattered around everyone’s lawns. She held up a bubble wand while
talking to my sister, Hanna. Or, most likely while Hanna was talking to her.
“You must be so thrilled to be studying in London,” said one of the
teachers I’d just met.
I nodded.
Zayneb blew bubbles as Hanna whacked them with a badminton racket.
Dad looked at me. “Adam, why don’t you go talk to your friends?
They’ve been asking for you since they got back last week.”
I guess he knew my mind was somewhere else.
I nodded and made my way to Connor, Tsetso, and a few other guys from
my graduating class at Doha International School. They’d gone on to
universities in different parts of the world, and most had gotten back for
spring break earlier than me.
Beyond the initial hellos and quick catch-ups, I hadn’t sat down with
them yet.
They were on lawn chairs near the steps to the boardwalk, their backs to
the water, watching the guests who were playing badminton on the lawn. I
joined their semicircle, sitting on the grass.
“Adam. Right on time. Right person to tell us, who invited that guy?”
Connor pointed at a kid swinging a badminton racket round and round until
it hit him in the face, at which point he screamed and ran to a woman
dressed in the uniform many nannies in Doha wear. After she consoled him,
he went back and attacked himself with the badminton racket again.
“I have no idea.” I laughed. “But practically everyone here is a teacher at
DIS, so he must be a teacher’s kid?”

---

Tsetso put his plate down on a rock next to him. “Okay, who invited that
guy?” he said, nodding at a man who, while talking to a woman, was also
getting a good scratch in, moving his back up and down on the trunk of one
of the date palms separating our yard from a neighbor’s.
I shook my head. “Drawing a blank. Not a teacher.”
Connor pointed in Hanna’s direction. “And who invited her? With your
sister.”
Zayneb was still blowing bubbles for Hanna, who was now popping them
with a magic wand.
“She’s Ms. Raymond’s niece. Visiting for spring break. Zayneb. From
Indiana. Sorta met her on the plane over here,” I said.
“That lady with the dog is Ms. Raymond’s niece on spring break? That’s
one old niece.” Connor laughed.
There was an elderly woman behind Hanna, standing by herself, rubbing
her nose on the head of a Chihuahua in her hands.
Oops. I’d been looking at Zayneb. Why couldn’t I stop looking at her?
“Remind me why you guys think this who-invited thing is fun again?” I
stretched out my legs on the grass and leaned back on my elbows. The kid
out to get himself with the badminton racket was at it again, so I decided to
entertain myself watching the next episode.
“ADAM!” It was coming from behind me. “CONNOR, ALL OF YOU
GUYS, COME DOWN!”
I sat up and turned to look down the steps. More students from our
graduating class, on the boardwalk. I’d noticed them taking pictures of the
water when I first came outside.
“WHY?” Connor shouted, standing up. His long, plaid shorts paired with
a differently plaided, scruffy shirt paired with a white boater hat over his
bushy brown hair told me he hadn’t changed his crazy style after leaving for
university in California. “WE’RE BUSY PLAYING ADAM’S FAVORITE
GAME.”
“Madison has the video of you guys doing If Harry Potter Went to DIS
from our grad party last year.” It was Emma Phillips. I could recognize her
voice anywhere.
“YOU GUYS FOUND THAT?” Tsetso stood up. “I’m outta here.”
The rest of the guys got up too and began bounding down the steps
behind Tsetso, simultaneously trying to pull one another back to be the one
to get there the fastest.

---

Before he went down, Connor turned to me. “Your Zayneb? Playing with
your sister? She’s coming over.”
I watched the badminton kid go running to his nanny for the hundredth
time. This time she tried to take the racket away from him. In response, he
threw himself on the ground.
“I think I met your sister. Hanna, right?” Zayneb sat on the chair Connor
had just exited from. The only part of her I could see directly was her hands
—left hand holding the bubble-solution container, right hand on the cap, a
thin silver bracelet with a pendant dangling on her wrist.
“Yeah. She’s super friendly.”
“Also, a big fan of yours. I think I know everything about you.” She
laughed and began opening the bubble container. “But don’t worry—I
pretended to act surprised when she told me about the blue stone you got
her for her rock collection.”
Maybe it was looking up at her and seeing the remnants of her secret
smile before she blew more bubbles that made me blurt out, “Do you want
to come see the water?”
Or it could have been how her scarf blended into the darkness of the sky
behind her so only her profile was lit up, surrounded by bubbles and stars.
Or maybe I just needed to stop.