Love from a to Z

ZAYNEB
FRIDAY, MARCH 15
MARVEL:
TURNS
E
XHIBIT
A: A 
SUPER PHILOSOPHICAL
song.
I woke up to Auntie Nandy singing loudly from the kitchen, a song about
joy and fun and seasons in the sun. But even though it had such happy
words in it, it was an unbelievably mournful-sounding thing.
Oh yeah, it was the weekend.
Adam is coming over again.
It was to get his treatment, yeah, but he was going to be here, in my
vicinity, again.
And then on Sunday, we’re going to the museum.
Not dune-bashing with Emma P.
I turned onto my back and smiled at the ceiling.
A curl of hair fell into my eyes.
I flipped on my side again, snuggled into the pillow, more hair covering
my face, and, as Auntie Nandy sang on about skinned hearts and knees,
saying good-bye, and more seasons in the sun, I thought about him.
• • •
I couldn’t imagine carrying what he’d carried with him all the way here
from London, from last fall.
I marveled at his sense of calm and quietness. That he held something so
hard inside for so long without bursting.
A small part of my heart hurt so much just thinking of what that must
have felt like.

---

Did he ever feel the need for someone to share some of it, some of the
heaviness of knowing he had the same disease that his mom had? Did he
ever wish someone would reach out and hold the weight with him?
That small, hurting part of my heart spoke up inside, wanting to offer
itself to share the heaviness with him.
“Ridiculous,” I whispered, quelling it. You’re going back home; he’s
going back to school. You’re both leaving Doha.
And then my arms began a disturbance.
They wanted to be that part of me that reached out to him. To envelop
him. To say he’ll be okay.
I turned on my back again and wrapped those arms around myself,
tucking my hands tight against me to hold the ache inside, closing my eyes
as Auntie Nandy kept singing of good-byes.
I have eight more days in Doha, so the only thing I can do is help Adam
in the ways I’m able to. The halal ways.
I untucked my hands to clear the hair off my face and sat up.
As I got out of bed, I blew that one lone curl off my forehead. Begone,
sexy-hair fantasies.
• • •
“Sylvia loved the song I was just singing. ‘Seasons in the Sun,’ ” Auntie
Nandy said, her big breakfast spread out in front of her. She raised a fork.
“Adam’s mom.”
“Oh. But it’s so incredibly sad sounding.” I picked up a slice of cucumber
and rotated it. “Like my heart hurt listening to you.”
“She didn’t think it was sad. She used to sing it whenever someone got
something Sylvia wanted, like a position at school or an opportunity she
was trying for.”
I stared at Auntie Nandy. Whut? “But that’s still something sad. To sing it
when she didn’t get something?”
“No, no. Wait. I’m not explaining it properly.” Auntie Nandy put her
knife and fork down. “Okay, let me tell you of the time when Sylvia wanted
to display her artwork at an exhibition at Katara, the village I was going to
take you to.”
“We’re still going, right?” I put the cucumber slice in my mouth. “To
Katara?”

---

“Yes, for sure. But anyway, Sylvia didn’t get chosen to exhibit her work.
Instead, the junior high art teacher at DIS, Vernon, was accepted. And that
was an example of when she would get into her ‘Seasons in the Sun’
mentality. Because, the way she explained it, it wasn’t her season at that
moment; it was Vernon’s turn to shine. She believed in such a world, where
everyone got a turn, a season in the sun.” Auntie Nandy picked up her
cutlery again. “She was a beautiful soul like that.”
“Oh, wow.” That was deep. To think you were one of many who
deserved great things. To be so unbelievably gracious, graceful. No wonder
Adam’s face lit up whenever he spoke of his mom. “You can tell Adam
loved her so much. He gets happy when she’s mentioned.”
“Yeah. He’s got a lot of his mom in him. That sense of balance, a way of
thinking bigger.” Auntie Nandy resumed eating. “I like that you guys are
friends.”
“Well, I’m leaving soon.” I swallowed the cucumber, but it was hard to
make it go down my throat. “So, yeah.”
Auntie Nandy paused eating again and glanced at me.
That glance held a lot of unspoken questions, so I quickly shoved it aside
by changing topics. “Can we start planning stuff? Mom’s getting here
Sunday night!”
“Sure, make a list, and we’ll maximize our days now that I’m off too.”
I got up from the chair, tapping on my phone as if I were starting a list,
but what I was really doing, as I walked to my room, was looking up the
lyrics to “Seasons in the Sun.”
It was incredibly sad.
• • •
After setting up Adam’s IV, Annabelle sat at the same spot as yesterday and
picked up her book, More Unsolved Mysteries.
Auntie Nandy sat on the other end of the sofa, closer to Adam, turning on
the TV, looking for something for us to watch.
Adam and I sat across from each other again.
And, as the opening credits of Black Panther began, and we stole glances
at each other in turns, I realized something: I don’t want this season in Doha
to end.

---

My arms and heart and the rest of me wanted to be curled and squished
beside him in that chair he was sitting in.
• • •