I throw my shoulders back and march toward the front yard, but just as I make my way around the corner of the cottage, I slam into Mati. He steadies me, two hands that burn my arms like heated steel, then guides me, backward and stumbling, to the shadows of the side yard.
“Elise,” he says, rough with distress. “You have to let me explain.”
“Don’t touch me,” I say, low, hostile. When he doesn’t pull away, I smack my palms against his shoulders and shove with all my strength. He winces—his ribs aren’t completely healed—but I don’t care if he’s hurting, or even if I’m damaging him permanently. I push him again, and again, my vision clouded with rage, until he lifts his hot hands from my skin and holds them in the air, surrendering.
His eyes are bloodshot, desperate. “You have to listen—”
“Don’t tell me what to do!”
“Okay,” he says. “Okay. I am not telling, I am asking—I am begging you to let me speak.”
“There’s nothing you can say that’ll fix this.”
I expect a rebuttal, a dispute about how, after all these weeks, after everything that’s happened, I owe him a chance to defend himself. But he doesn’t argue. He lowers his gaze to the grass and quietly, suppliantly, says, “Please.”
I take a step back; his nearness is (always has been) my undoing. I cross my arms over my chest and say cruelly, “Fine. You’re engaged? Let’s hear about how lovely it all is.”
His chin lifts, his gaze drilling into me. “Elise, don’t romanticize it.”
“Mati, don’t trivialize it. How could you not tell me?!”
“She means nothing. I don’t even know her.”
“That’s such bullshit. You’re going to marry this—this person. An engagement matters!”
“It is not an engagement in the way you think. We’ve talked about this—there’s nothing sentimental about it. There is no passion. No love.”
Love. The way he pronounces the word traps air in my lungs. I clench my hands into fists, fighting the almost overwhelming urge to punch him. I relish the bite of my fingernails digging into my palms. It’s pain, physical pain that’s easy to pinpoint. Physical pain that’s easy to alleviate. Nothing like what’s going on in my chest: the systematic shredding of my heart.
I force a ragged exhale, ensuring that my voice is dangerously calm. “Who is she?”
His face falls, like he was hoping I wouldn’t press for details. “Elise—”
“No, tell me. I want to know who she is. You owe me at least that much.”
He speaks to the ground. “Her name is Panra. She’s a girl from another tribe in Ghazni—a more prominent tribe, one that has feuded with my family’s for generations. Her father is its leader, and my baba made the arrangement with him a long time ago, when it became clear that his health was declining and his survival wasn’t guaranteed. It is a match that will benefit our people—that’s what my baba hopes. A bond that will forge peace between both tribes.”
Peace between tribes—that’s what I’m up against.
“God, Mati! This is why you’re so set on going back? This the duty you talk about? I mean, I get it: peace is a big deal. But do you know what’s an even bigger deal? The fact that you have a fiancé waiting for you in Afghanistan! You didn’t think, even once, that this was information I deserved to hear?”
“Yes. Yes! I thought about telling you a thousand times, but—”
“But what?” I’m yelling—I’m sure his parents can hear every syllable of my diatribe, just like I heard all of Hala’s, and I’m sure Bambi is stressed about my well-being. But in this moment, I couldn’t give a shit. “You knew!” I cry, jabbing a finger in his stupefied face. “You knew if I found out that you were promised to someone else, I’d back away. And, what? You didn’t want to say goodbye to your beach buddy? You didn’t want to lose your secret girlfriend?”
He whirls around and stalks to the corner of the cottage. He keeps his back to me and even though I want to strangle him, I also want to know what’s going on in his head. Because despite what I said all of five seconds ago, my feelings haven’t changed. Not enough. I am stupid—so, so stupid. I’ve fallen in love with a charming boy—a cunning, deceptive, unavailable boy.
Audrey’s voice runs circles in my head: A person who can’t be trusted.
The truth of it makes me ache.
He’s striding toward me again. He rounds his shoulders and gets right in my face, jaw working, eyes flashing. “I cannot believe you would insinuate that my intentions are anything but honorable.”
“And I can’t believe I’ve spent my summer with a liar.”
“I have never lied to you. Not once.”
“Only because I didn’t think to ask if you were engaged!”
I move to push past him, but he grabs my hand and spins me around. Even as I wrench out of his hold, he’s talking, explaining, pleading, “Please, Elise. I love you. No arbitrary promise will change that.”
I stare at him, rubbing away the prickles of recognition—the prickles of want—his touch left on my skin. “It’s hardly an arbitrary promise when you’re going home to her,” I say darkly. “Soon, it’ll be her hand you’re holding. Her lips you’re kissing. You’ll look into her eyes and spout beautiful, meaningless words. God, Mati! Are you going to write about her?”
His gaze narrows. “Don’t diminish what you and I have.”
“What you and I had. I don’t ever want to see you again.”
This time, my escape is quick.
He doesn’t follow.
I round the cottage to its front yard. Rasoul sits in his wicker chair. He’s bent over Bambi, petting her head with slow, methodical strokes as her gaze jumps around the yard. She’s panting like she hasn’t seen water in weeks. Hala stands on the porch, arms crossed, glaring as I march across the lawn. Just beneath her glare lies the suggestion of satisfaction.
There, I think, aiming a beam of loathing in her direction. I’m out of his life, like you wanted.
“Elise,” Rasoul says as I retrieve my dog’s leash. He gives his throat a rutty clear. “Please don’t go. This situation … It is not what you think.”
I snap Bambi’s leash to her collar, then stand to look him square in the face. “It’s exactly what I think, and for you to say differently is insulting.”
He cringes. “I mean no offense. Mati feels—”
“I don’t care about what Mati feels.” I realize suddenly, and with acute embarrassment, that I’m crying. I wipe savagely at my face as I bend to meet his gaze. “I appreciate your being hospitable. I appreciate your inviting me over and pretending like I matter. I hope you get better and have a chance to enjoy the peace Mati’s marriage will bring, but right now, there’s nothing you can say that will make this okay. I just—I want to go.”
He nods once, like he understands.
I’m certain he doesn’t.
I give Bambi’s leash a tug. She hops up and follows me over the path, through the gate, and down the sidewalk.
Far, far away from Mati and the fairy tale he destroyed.
elise
I go to Audrey’s.
I knock on the door of her cottage, then wait, and wait, before banging on the wood all over again. Bambi turns circles beside me, whining nervously.
“It’s okay, girl,” I say, stooping to pet her. A tear rolls down my cheek, then free-falls, landing on her blond head. It’s quite possibly the most pathetic display I’ve ever exhibited—I’m crying with my dog over a boy.
I knew Mati would ruin me, but I never thought it’d be like this.
The cottage’s door swings open. Audrey stands over me. “God, Elise, what happened?”
She appears blurry, watercolored. I shrug haplessly like, You were right.
And then she’s wrapping an arm around me, pulling me inside, guiding me to the sofa. She sits beside me, hugs me, smoothing her hand over my hair while I cry into the gauzy fabric of her blouse.
I have never loved her more.
After buckets of tears, I pull away. I feel terrible—hot and wrung out and vaguely nauseated. My throat is sore and my middle hurts, like I’ve been run over by a truck. Still, I tuck my hair behind my ears and smooth my shirt, feigning composure, pretending I didn’t just shatter on my sister-in-law’s sofa.
“Where’s Janie?” I ask.