I laugh. “Just snacks.”
“Just go with the flow.”
“Right. The vending machine flow.”
“Or, actually, let’s be adventurous,” she says with a slight increase in enthusiasm as the elevator doors open. “Let’s go to the store down in the lobby. Lots of choices there.”
“Is it open?” I like this idea. An entire store to roam—separate from each other.
“It said twenty-four hours.” She smiles big. “Now I might really go all out and get some MILK.”
“Nice.” I give her a thumbs-up and watch the floors light all the way down to L. Before silence makes itself known again, I say, “Your baby will like that. And maybe some chocolate chip cookies, too.” I add another laugh, but it comes out fake.
“No sugar for Maysarah. She had those gummy bears you gave Nuah. Well, I had the gummy bears you gave him, and I couldn’t sleep last night.” She shakes her head. “This girl can’t have any sugar.”
As soon as the doors open, I walk fast out of the elevator to leave the mention of Nuah far behind.
She catches up super quick for someone nine months pregnant. “You know that girl I told you about? That Nuah likes? She’s vegan AND sugar-free. When I first heard that, I was like, how can anyone live that deprived? But then I saw her. Sumayyah.”
My face is melting. I can feel it.
I try to walk faster. But now she puts a hand out to stop me. And holds a phone up with her other hand.
It’s a picture of a stunningly beautiful girl. Her dark brown skin is unmade up but glowing. She has a small but confident smile, as confident as the bright yellow head wrap atop her forehead. Her glasses match the wrap and her quiet but proud gaze, her I’m-here-don’t-look-away hijab—altogether, it’s unbelievably chic.
And she’s smart. She has to be, going to Caltech.
And into saving the earth, and vegan. And sugar-free.
Of course Nuah would choose her over me.
Of course she was the one that was hard to get—not me.
I tear up.
“When I saw her natural-glow skin, I told Nuah I’m signing up for sugar-free-vegan lessons too.” Khadija laughs and puts down her phone and then stops laughing when she sees my face. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”
“No.” I look away and move toward the store.
“What did I say?” She follows me, and her voice sounds so shocked and sad. “Janna, stop. What happened?”
What if she gets so upset that I’m running away from her that she goes into labor? What if her water thing breaks right here on these lobby tiles that are some sort of weird mossy brown to mimic a forest floor? Then what if I have to be the one to deliver Maysarah? In this, the ugliest hotel in the world?
I stop. Right by the tree of fluffy red balls.
Scanning my brain for possible, plausible reasons for my grief, I seize the first one that’ll pull her heartstrings. “My mom may be falling for Dania and Lamya’s dad, who she knew from college. And I don’t know if I like it,” I say, letting the tears fall now.
“Oh my gosh. Oh, I’m so sorry.” Khadija rubs my back. I turn to the tree. I can’t hide my face in its rough bark. But I need to because my nose is running majorly, so I lean hard into it.
When I look back, Khadija’s checking her granny nightgown pockets—huge pockets that she turns inside out. “Come on, where are tissues when you need them?”
A fluff ball falls from the tree right onto my head. Khadija stares at me then at the tree above. “What in the world?”
She takes it off my head and hands it to me. It’s a mass of cotton balls glued together or something. “This works, I guess? Better than your pajamas?”
“Um, ugh, I don’t think—” I protest. Far behind Khadija, the elevators open, and Layth steps out, his jean jacket and backpack on.
I use the fluff ball to wipe my nose.
He notices me and walks over. I turn the fluff ball over and wipe my eyes with the unsnotty side.
Oh my God, I don’t even know how old this fluffy thing is. Or how dusty.
“Hey, salaam,” he says, coming closer. And then he slows his steps and stops completely when he’s a few feet away, as he notices my tears. “Sorry, don’t want to interrupt anything. Just about to leave.”
I lower the fluff, sucking in a huge breath to drown a sob. I clear my throat and speak as calmly as I can, while sniffling. “No, it’s okay. You know Khadija, right? She came with us to the pizza place?” I can’t bring myself to say she’s Nuah’s sister.
“Assalamu alaikum. I’m Nuah’s sister. And yeah, we hung out today—of course we know each other.” Khadija smiles at Layth.
“Yeah, for sure.” Layth looks uncomfortable.
Oh yeah. I have a good idea why he’s got a strange expression on his face. He heard me talk about the entire Nuah thing falling apart, and now I’m crying under a fluff ball tree to Nuah’s sister.
Why is my life like this?
Tears gather again. “I need another fluff ball,” I sputter—to who, I don’t know. To the tree, maybe?
Layth takes his backpack off and unzips a side. He holds out a… yellow handkerchief.
A handkerchief?
Um, does he live in this century?
“Completely clean. Never used. It’s my old Cub Scout neckerchief,” he assures me. “I couldn’t leave it behind.”
I wipe my eyes with it but not my nose. It feels like a strange thing to do so I reuse the fluff ball for my nose instead. I don’t want to imagine how I look—with a yellow cloth on my eyes and a clownish red puff at my nose, wearing Winnie-the-Pooh-meets-skulls pajamas. “Thanks. I’ll wash it and give it back.” I sniffle again.
“It’s okay. Keep it. I’m leaving tonight anyway.”
“Leaving leaving?”
“Yeah, driving to Miami.” He shrugs.
The elevator doors open again and reveal Uncle Bilal in a navy bathrobe with green plaid pajamas underneath. He looks surprised to see us all under the tree.
“Layth,” he calls out after stepping into the lobby but not moving from outside the elevator doors. “Can I talk to you, please?”
Layth doesn’t turn around. “We’re done talking.” His voice is steely.
“Not if you’re leaving. We’re not done.” Uncle Bilal still stands where he is, but his voice carries.
I check the front desk to see if anyone heard. No one’s there. Well, it is almost two in the morning now.
Khadija nudges me. “Snacks? Let’s go?”
“Yeah.” I smooth out the handkerchief. Do I give it back to Layth? It’s tear filled but not snot filled, so…
Embroidered in one corner of the yellow triangle cloth is LAYTH. In the other corner is MUHSIN.
“We’re going to go to the store and get snacks,” Khadija says to Layth brightly. “I think Janna’s okay. Thanks for the handkerchief.”
“Yeah, thanks.” I fold it up and hold it out. “Just a bit wet.”
“Keep it,” Layth says, holding my gaze with his dark eyes, surprising kindness in them. “What if you find yourself without a tissue again? And only have weird fake apples from a weird fake tree to wipe your tears with?”