Love from a to Z

Quaking happening here, too. You have to let me know what it’s about as soon as you find out.
I don’t know if Ayaan will fill me in. She’s become quiet around me at school. And then does
one-word replies to texts.
Gulp. My fault. Crying.
I wrote the words that got you in trouble. Crying more.
Okay, I believe in prayers, so I’m praying that she doesn’t get in trouble for her part in
#EatThemAlive. I’m okay with trouble. But Ayaan is our purest star. She must be protected by all, at
all costs. Let me falter, let me fall, but let Ayaan rise above us all.
Wow, poetry.
No, it’s a prayer. Just made up now. Hey, did you hear back from SAIC admissions?
No. I’m getting worried. I keep thinking maybe I shouldn’t have included the picture of a
skateboarding seahorse in my portfolio. It wasn’t good quality.
If they say no, I say we do a sit-in at the admissions office. Holding your drawings up as protest
signs.
Wish you were back here. I went to check out the Purdue campus with Nhu yesterday, and the
whole time we filled in what *you’d* be saying if you were with us. ONE BATHROOM FOR
THREE LECTURE HALLS? NO WHEELCHAIR RAMP TO THE CLOSEST DOORS?
DO NOT MAKE A COLLEGE DECISION WITHOUT ME, GIRL.
WE won’t. Though we are going to see the rest of the campuses during break.
Without me.
Hey, you have Doha.
I do. And so far, it’s been okay.
I sent her the picture of the three Emmas and me. And Adam.
Looks like fun?
All of them are named Emma.
Even the guy looking up?
No, that’s Adam.
She shared a picture of her and Nhu making faces at each other through
the openings of a holey sculpture on the Purdue campus, and it looked like
real fun.
• • •

---

The weekend in Doha is Friday and Saturday, so Auntie Nandy said we
should go to Souq Waqif today, before she went back to work on Sunday.
Thankfully, she first let me sleep in in complete silence and only turned
on her music—very obviously seventies-sounding music—when I emerged
from my room at two p.m.
In the dining room, everything was loud and tinny and plucky and
distinct and strangely groovy, too.
“Wow, is this what they call disco?” I began gathering a plate of food—
food shivering while it awaited me to transport it to the warmth of the
microwave. When the words of the song began, I paused on my way to the
kitchen. “Wait. Is that Urdu? Or, I mean Hindi? Seventies Bollywood
music?”
“I’m going to pretend it is.” Auntie Nandy, sitting at the table with her
laptop, smiled. Then she whispered, as though the Rock and Roll Hall of
Fame had her place bugged, “It’s actually from 1980. But isn’t it great?
Nazia Hassan singing ‘Aap Jaisa Koi’? ‘Aap jaisa koi meri zindagi’!”
She got up and began dancing. Raising one hand in the air, she shook it a
few times then swung it down across her body dramatically before lifting it
up again in a sudden whoosh, all the while shaking her shoulders and hips.
Her eyes were closed, but her expression was serious.
Auntie Nandy’s hips and shoulders looked like they belonged to two
different people, while her arms didn’t seem to know whether they were
taking turns flailing for help from a helicopter hovering over a deserted
island or pointing earnestly at something someone lost on the ground.
I couldn’t look away, so I stood in the doorway of the kitchen, holding
my plate up to my chest, trying hard to keep my lips at an appreciative-
smile level and not let them venture where they wanted to: side-splitting,
bust-out-laughing, this-is-perfectly-too-funny-to-be-cringey level.
But then came a point when she twisted-shimmied her way down while
one hand did jazz hands and the other tried to pull her pants up, and I had to
run to the table and put my plate down to use both my hands to cover the
laughter exploding from my mouth.
She saw me and tried to straighten gracefully, giggling at the way she had
to yank her pants before she made it even halfway up. “Oh, so you think I
don’t know how to dance? Or is it you think you know how to dance?”
“I actually do, Auntie Nandy.” I laughed. “And you actually don’t.”

---

“This is disco, Zoodles.” She pulled my arms to get me to join her on the
carpet. “Listen to the rhythm. It’s different from your music.”
I laughed again and reached for my phone. “My friend Nhu’s mom runs a
dance studio. And she even teaches disco. I’m going to FaceTime her to
show us some real moves.”
“Perfect. Let’s hit it from the top!” Auntie Nandy pressed a remote, and
her sound system started again.
• • •
Kavi, I like disco music.
Also, here’s the best song: “Aap Jaisa Koi.”
Aap jaisa koi meri zindagi mein aaye.
Which means: If someone like you entered my life . . .
• • •
Souq Waqif was beautiful at night. We ate at Damasca, a Syrian restaurant,
and then wandered the bustling market.
The cobblestone streets, polished smooth, were lit by lights attached to
the buildings, in alcoves and atop the structures as well. The buildings
themselves were traditional Qatari style, low and with wraparound
balustrades and second-story balconies overlooking the market below.
There were all sorts of shops selling everything from trinkets like camel
key chains to rugs to perfumes and pure-gold jewelry. And clothing shops
with tons of scarves stacked in piles near their entrances.
I couldn’t stop myself from buying a few hijabs.
I bought one for tomorrow’s field trip with Hanna’s class.
It was the color of the sky before a storm, a sort of grayish baby blue, but
the best part was the print on it. Darker gray silhouettes of tiny birds flying.
When we reached the car in the parking lot across from the souk, I
draped the hijab around my head to model it for Auntie Nandy. “Good for a
trip to an animal sanctuary?”
“Perfect.” She put our purchases in the trunk. “We leave at seven thirty,
so get to bed as soon as we get home, Zoodles.”
“Yes, Mom-sub.”
On the road, she turned off the radio. “I should tell you something about
Adam. You’ll be spending time with him tomorrow.”

---

I looked at her. It was like her voice had become muffled. Or dropped an
octave.
The glistening in her eyes told me it was sadness. She blinked a few
times, and a tear dropped.
Whoa, that was sudden.
I didn’t say anything and instead focused on the palm trees lining the
avenue we were driving down. The night sky was visible between the
buildings behind the trees, and I thought about the photo of Adam looking
at the same sky yesterday.