“Ladies and gents, thank you for your patience as we flew through that patch of bad weather. We’re out of it now, but for the continued safety of the flight and crew, air traffic control has let us know the best thing to do is divert our flight path. So, we won’t be landing in Toronto—we’ll now be landing in Ottawa in just under an hour. Should be clear sailing there.” The “Fasten seat belts” light dinged off, and Anna breathed a sigh of relief.
Beside her, Maryam undid her seat belt as well and stood up to stretch her legs, leaning against her seat. Anna smiled at her. It was over. They had survived. Except now they were about to make an unscheduled landing in the wrong city, in the middle of a blizzard—meaning there was a very high chance all her careful Christmas plans were about to collapse like a house of cards.
When she glanced at Maryam to commiserate—what would happen to her sister’s wedding plans now?—she noticed the other woman standing stock-still. Then her seatmate emitted a high-pitched squeak and, without another word, walked quickly down the center aisle of the plane. What had just happened? Anna looked around, wondering what had caught Maryam’s horrified gaze, and noted the sole passenger seated behind them: a handsome young man with floppy hair and kind eyes, a large sleep mask dangling from his neck. He was cute, but surely not worth a mild panic attack?
“Hi,” the man said, his voice warm velvet in Anna’s ears. “That was some crazy turbulence, right? My name is Saif.”
FOUR
Maryam
December 20
No, no, no, no, no, Maryam thought as she blindly moved up the aisle of the plane, desperate to escape. Saif Rasool had been sitting behind her the entire time. Her lifelong crush had likely heard every word she said!
This was like the plot of a bad movie.
No, it was like the inciting incident in a romantic comedy—except, in Maryam’s case, all she would get was lifelong embarrassment. Plus, never being able to show her face at another familydawaatagain.
Oh God—what if Saif told his parents? Who would then immediately tell her parents? Who would then tell Saima and Dadu, who would then respectively laugh and come out of Bollywood retirement to make a film based on this story? She would forever be teased about spilling her secrets to an overly perky stranger just because she was afraid of flying and was desperately unhappy and living a lie and...
Maryam stopped.
Was she unhappy? Was she living a lie? Was any of what she had blurted to Anna actually... true?
In her rush to escape from Saif, she had glossed over the rest of her confessions, including her secret dream, the one she hadn’t thought about in years, to be a writer. Not a contemplating-life-from-a-drafty-attic type of writer, but an actual type-one-hundred-thousand-words, get-an-agent,look, Mom, I got a book dealwriter.
She shook her head. She was sleep-deprived, stressed, and had just survived one—no,three—near-death experiences: first the lilac-scented oil explosion, followed by the scotch mint uprising, and then turbulence so bad she vowed to drive back to Colorado. This was merely some sort of psychic-dissonance response; she was reverting to a simpler time in her life when she had a mild—practically nonexistent!—crush on Saif, and when she might have toyed—for the briefest instant!—with the idea of disappointing her family by pursuing a job in the arts.
If that’s true, why did you immediately run away when you spotted Saif seated behind you?a voice whispered mockingly.And when you told Anna you wanted to be a writer, why did it feel like... the truth?
Maryam pushed the thought firmly from her mind. This was all just wedding-related stress. It didn’t mean anything. She needed to rejoin her family at the front of the plane. They needed her. Once she saw her parents and sister again, she would remember who she was—not who some tiny, random part of her wished she could be.
Except her family didn’t seem to need her at all. When she joined them in Economy Plus, Saima, her parents, andDadu were eating theiriftardinner. They looked up at her in surprise.
“Everything okay, Maryambeta?” Dadu asked.
“I’m fine. Never better. All good. Just wanted to make sure you were okay and...” Her stomach gurgled, and she checked the time. It was half past five; she should have broken her fast ten minutes ago. The day was catching up with her, and she felt a wave of hunger hit hard.
“Drink somepani,” Azizah said, handing her a bottle of water. “We were worried about you. The turbulence was so bad,nah?Saima started crying!”
“Mom,” Saima muttered, embarrassed. “I just felt bad I sent her back there all alone. I forgot how much Maryam hates flying.”
Maryam did hate flying—planes were chaotic spaces—but strangely, she hadn’t felt alone beside Anna. Maybe it was because Anna Gibson had been so chaotic herself, but also a friendly and calming presence. When the turbulence had gotten really scary, it was comforting to have Anna seated next to her.
Ghulam stood up from his aisle seat and insisted Maryam take his place, while Dadu handed her a burrito and urged her to eat. Maryam felt better after a hurriedbismillahand a sip of lukewarm water. She really was a grumpy faster, as she had told Anna, and yet every time she broke her fast after a long day without food or water, the feeling of relief and gratitude that washed over her felt like a hard-won, necessary reminder of her many blessings. She devoured the burrito in a few bites, and Saima passed her a thermos filled with hot tea bought inthe airport lounge. She sipped slowly and felt her body calm. This was where she belonged, surrounded by family, by the people who truly mattered, taking care of them while they in turn took care of her.
With a pang, she remembered Anna’s confession about how alone she felt after the loss of her father, and her current estrangement from her stepmother. Anna looked so capable, cheerful, and put together—the same way she had described Maryam, she recalled grimly. Well, maybe not “cheerful.” But Anna was on her way to visit her boyfriend and his family. They would be kind and welcoming; they would sit her down when she was clearly upset, pass her some water, and talk about trivial things until she had eaten something.
“Did you know Saif Rasool was on this flight?” Maryam asked now, picking a piece of chocolate from the box her sister offered—another duty-free purchase, she assumed.
Azizah smiled fondly. “Such a nice boy. His parents raised him well, even if he did become a”—her mother lowered her voice and looked around quickly, to make sure there were no eavesdroppers—“lawyer. Shukriya was so disappointed when he was accepted into Columbia Law.”
“Yes, that must have been devastating,” Maryam said dryly. Her parents considered the science professions the only truly acceptable career options for their children, with engineering and technology a distant second.
“He greeted us when you went to pick up the food,” Azizah said. “His parents are already in Toronto visiting hisphupho,” she explained, referring to his paternal aunt. “Farah is also on the plane, along with her parents,” she said, mentioning another close family friend.
“I haven’t seen Farah in years. She’s a teacher now, right?”
