Page 78 of Sapphire Spring

Naser threw his hands over his heart as if he’d been spearedand rolled to one side with dramatic moans. “Oh, and you were doing so well,white boy.”

“What? Don’t make fun of my Dutch ancestry.”

“Yeah, the historical oppression of theDutchreally keeps me up nights.”

Mason set down the plate he’d been preparing for himself.“All right, all right. What did I do wrong?”

“Nowruz is not a Muslim holiday. It’s Zoroastrian, which isthe more ancient religion the Persian Empire practiced prior to the MuslimConquest. Fire is central to a lot of Zoroastrian religious observances. Theybelieve it represents God’s light or wisdom. And it’s also the religion mysister is into because she thinks it’s less homophobic, but she’s notreally sureand neither am I, and I don’t care. It’s fine.I’m just not religious.”

“But you like Nowruz?”

“Ilivefor Nowruz. It’s so fun. It alwaysfeels…hopeful.”

But now his memories of it felt tinged by his sister’saccusation that he never let his mother get to know the real him—thegayhim.

The lead-up, along with the celebrations themselves,entailed a flurry of activity, all of which he’d done side by side with hismother ever since his father’s death. His mother took the spring-cleaning part veryseriously, and throughout those hours of labor, he would match her step forstep,lifting upfurniture legs when he could, runningout to buy extra vacuum bags, emptying dust pails and the trash so she couldkeep attacking already immaculate surfaces like a robot fueled by meth.

For years now, these things had seemed like bondingactivities, but in light of Pari’s recent indictment and his own case of clampmouth when his mother asked him about Mason’s drunken antics at Pari's event,he wondered if they were just a set ofdistractionsheand his mother used to be near to each other without actually being close. Itwas easier not to discuss Naser’s sexuality when you had little bonfires toassemble and hours of cleaning to do and pounds of braised beef to stew.

Naser took a bite to distract himself. “This is reallygood.”

“Thanks. I got up early this morning and made it.”

“Really?”

“No. I woke up with you, remember?”

“That’s what I thought. Either way, it tastes great.”

Mason raised an eyebrow and set about attacking his own plate.From the homesites just up the slope, construction noises echoed. Naser lookedback to the parking area uphill from where they now sat in comfortable shade.Aside from Mason’s loaner Lexus, most of the vehicles were construction trucksand vans. “When’s the Ferrari coming back from the shop?” Naser asked.

“It isn't.” Mason took much time positioning his turkey wrapfor his next bite.

“What happened to it?”

Mason took a healthy bite and chewed methodically. “I soldit,” he finally said, licking mayonnaise off his fingers.

“When?”

“Last week.”

“Why?” Naser asked.

“Meh, it was my drunk car. I needed a sober car. Freshstart, and all that.”

But Mason was staring down the canyon as he slowly chewed.When he felt Naser staring at him, he swallowed and looked his way.

“Mason...”

He shrugged. “A new investment opportunity came along.”

“Mason, you sold a Ferrari so you could invest in mysister’s line?”

“I sold a Ferrari so I could spend three hours with you.”

“It was a really nice car.”

“Yeah. I’m sure it looked great like a beached whale out onthe sand.”

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