Page 52 of Yours for the Season
“I’m used to it,” Andy said. He nudged Tom in the ribs. “Watch out, brother, or Tahsin Aunty will arrange your entire wedding and mail you an invite.”
Tom met Sameera’s gaze, but his expression was impenetrable. Again, she wondered what he was thinking. “That doesn’t sound too terrible,” he said mildly.
Andy hooted. “You said you’d never marry! Now look—you can’t keep your eyes off your woman.”
“And you said you’d never step foot in Alaska, not without me. Yet Barb tells me you’ve been a regular visitor this year.” Tom was joking, but also not. Sameera held her breath, but Andy only laughed and urged them to walk faster, since the parents had disappeared around the corner.
Her mother was already browsing the craft tables, her plan to set up Andy momentarily forgotten. “I can buy Eid gifts for everyone. Only ten months until Ramadan!” she said happily when Sameera joined her. She refrained from pointing out that Tahsin’s mostly Muslim friends and family might not be the target market at Wolf Run’s holiday market. Then again, if the cherry cordial chocolate crosses were anything to go by, her mother’s eclectic taste was impossible to predict. Which might not be a bad thing, Sameera mused. Tom had found the crucifix hilarious, and so had Esa. Maybe it was time to meet her parents where they were, instead of constantly trying to police or manage their behavior to fit her standards. Wasn’t that what she wanted from them in turn? Feeling thoughtful, she obediently followed her mother and managed to offer her opinion only when prompted.
The Christmas market was located at one end of Main Street near a gazebo and bandstand, which were both covered in fresh white snow and decorated with twinkling white fairy lights and Christmas trees festooned in red, white, and blue. Booths had been set up in neat rows, selling handmade ornaments, woolen handicrafts, cider, and hot chocolate. There was also a stage set up for live performances; Rob shared that Tom and even Calvin had participated in plays and concerts performed in the open air when they were younger.
“Do you think Razia will like this one, Sameera?” Tahsin asked, waving her over to a table. Their aunt Razia lived in Tennessee and was obsessed with porcelain figurines. Tahsin pointed to a delicately painted bear, and Sameera gave her a thumbs-up. Her mother was acting as if their argument yesterday had never happened. Which had been fine while they were cooking for Abu Isra and his family, but today, it didn’t sit right with her. For the first time in years, Sameera didn’t want to brush their issues under the rug.
Perhaps this was what Nadiya meant when she told Sameera to “fix your shit.”
Their party stopped by the hot chocolate stall, run by one of Hilda’s young employees. While Naveed broke out in a sweat at the sight of the cayenne pepper flavor, Barb and Tahsin both ordered salted caramel. Sameera couldn’t decide between lavender rose or chai hot chocolate topped with Biscoff whipped cream.
“We could get both and share,” Tom suggested.
Sameera was surprised by this suggestion. Ever since Andy had arrived, it felt as if Tom was reverting to his former moodiness, making snarky comments one minute and then trailing her through the market the next. Maybe he was trying to give her space, because he knew that his presence was a distraction? Except that his presence was also a soothing balm for her anxiety. In any case, she agreed to his suggestion readily. They purchased the hot chocolate and wandered deeper into the market, Sameera sipping her rose lavender. It was sweet, and the flowery taste reminded her ofRooh Afza, the popular rose-flavored syrup her mother used to makefaloodaduring Ramadan. She much preferred the chai hot chocolate, and Tom let her finish the rest of the drink while he sipped on the flowery one.
They paused to admire a series of ice sculptures. Beside her, Tom closed his eyes and leaned his head back to soak up the weak sunshine, and she found she couldn’t look away. When he opened his eyes again and caught her staring, he seemed to stiffen and look away, leaving her to wonder, again, what she had done wrong.
Nothing,she told herself. Whatever was going on was Tom’s issue, not hers. This was exactly why she didn’t want to muddy the waters of their friendly relationship with love drama. She ignored the voice in her head that wanted to push back, to point out the ways Tom had shown up for her, to their shared vulnerability. It didn’t mean anything.
Beside them, Andy observed their interaction, and she flushed at his knowing glance. His attention reminded her of what sheshouldbe focusing on—winning him over. That was her first priority. She wondered if she could somehow convince the two men to head back to Cooke Place, where she could quickly practice her pitch, then find Andy and ...
Looking around, her gaze was drawn to a clearing at the edge of the stalls, and her spiraling thoughts ground to a halt. “Is that a skating rink?”
Tom followed her pointing finger. “They have free skating every year. Why?”
But Sameera was already hurrying toward the outdoor rink.Just for a few minutes. A small detour,she told herself. Something fun, just for her. Tom and Andy followed behind, intrigued.
Sameera loved ice-skating. Her parents had enrolled her in skating lessons at the age of six, after she had announced her intention of becoming a world-famous figure skater following the Winter Olympics. Her figure-skating obsession had lasted three whole years, enough time to convince everyone around her that she would never get anywhere close to the Olympic Village.
She shared this story with Tom and Andy as they stood in line to rent skates. They laughed at her description of her Olympic dreams, and the cruel way they had been dashed by her utter lack of talent. She stillloved the sensation of gliding on ice, the feel of the wind through her hair, the elegant moves she’d learned and could (imperfectly) perform. It had been a few years since she had last been on the ice, but the urge to indulge now was overpowering.
“It’s just as well. My mom would never have let me wear one of those tiny skating outfits in public,” Sameera concluded as they sat on the bench and tied their skates.
The trio got on the ice, and though Tom was the shakiest, Andy wasn’t much better. He made jokes about how much his joints were worth, and Sameera skated circles around both men—literally.
“I’m hopeless on the ice,” Tom groused after his third tumble. “Just ask my dad.”
Sameera’s smile vanished. “He was hard on you.”
Tom nodded at Andy. “His dad was the same.”
Andy was crouched low, trying to maintain his balance, and shrugged when Sameera looked at him. “You know how Brown dads are,” he said.
Except she didn’t. Naveed had been raised by a strict disciplinarian, sent to boarding school as a child, yet had chosen a different approach with his own children, though her mother sometimes complained that he was willing to let her play bad cop. Sameera was starting to realize that as much as she appreciated her father’s gentleness growing up, it had put her mother into the role of forever disciplinarian. A role Tahsin might not always have enjoyed, Sameera realized.
“My dad used to make me write out science and math problems ten times for every single one I got wrong. Sometimes, it would go on for hours,” Andy said.
“After my mom died, Rob would ignore me for days. Then all of a sudden, it was like he remembered he had a kid, and then I couldn’t do anything right,” Tom said.
They both looked at her, and she shrugged, embarrassed. “My dad told me he would always be there for me, but after we had a big fight, he didn’t reach out for a long time. If it wasn’t for my sister, I’m not sure how long we would have gone without talking.”
“I really need to meet Nadiya,” Tom said, and Andy perked up at this.
