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Tradition—tradition!Do I betray mine?
Tradition—tradition!What will I do without the support of my family? No home to return to on holidays? I would be cut off emotionally, financially...
Tradition—tradition!I loved Amir. Was Amir my future, my tradition my past? How could I face him, explain that my family would never accept him?
I got into my car and drove to my apartment, tears streaming down my cheeks. I needed to face a big decision, my life as precarious as a fiddler on the roof.
And then it hit me:NO, NO, NO!I felt deprived of oxygen without Amir. I needed to see him and find some way to work this out...
25. Like a Rolling Stone
Heavy winds were whipping as I got into my car, a big storm predicted for later that night. I smiled through tears. If even Simone and Milton couldn’t keep me from him, no force of nature could exist strong enough to destroy our love. This urban jungle—I felt more at home amongst the homeless, making my way to Amir’s apartment. Gale-force winds struck my face, hurdling my still-thin body back toward my car, but I fought against the resistance. An elderly neighbor man was at the base of Amir’s apartment complex. He inserted a key and entered first, kind enough to offer me refuge from the harsh weather without having to wait for Amir to buzz me in.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure, young lady. Stay safe and warm.” He smiled with a small gleam in his eye.
I raced up the stairs to Amir’s mini palace. I was his queen and there was no turning back. I knocked on his door feverishly. The door opened.
“Melissa? What the...” There she stood, tall, clunky, clumsy Melissa, Mick Jagger’s waggling tongue extending just below her paunch. He let her wear that T-shirt?
“Hey, Rory.” Melissa, maybe not coincidentally the other blonde on my surgical team, gave me a big seductive smile.
“I thought you were my friend!”
She shot me a glance full of subtext that said “I win. Not you.”
“Rory!” Amir noticed me in the threshold.
“I—I’m sorry. I’ve made a huge mistake. I—I’ve got to go.”
Amir shoved Melissa out of the way. “But Amir—” Melissa’s mousy voice protested.
“Wait, Rory! Wait!” Amir shouted after me as I ran, bolting down the stairs, out of the apartment building and into the thrashing storm.
∞∞∞
I awoke in my apartment, my clothes still drenched from the night before. There was a cold pit of doom in my stomach. The sight of my puffy-eyed mirror image triggered another cascade of tears. I wrapped myself in a blanket cocoon on my couch, staring at the four white walls for what seemed like an eternity. The living room clock just kept ticking incessantly, demanding to be heard—tick, tick, tick. I would go mad if I allowed myself to remain like this. Nauseated, I crawled over to the garbage pail and wretched a few times. It was no surprise that my heaving was dry. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten.
Just then, a knock.
“Who’s there?“
“It’s me,” replied Amir from the other side of the door. “Are you okay? Please let me in.”
“What the FUCK are you doing here, Amir? I can’t look at you. Go away!” I remained behind the protection of my door, diving for my box of Kleenex.
“Please, Rory. Let me in for a minute. Please!”
My nerves were frayed, my heart pounding, my fury rising. I opened the door, revealing my hideous face.
“I have nothing to say to you, you fucking bastard!” I pounded on his perfect chest with both fists.
“Rory—Melissa. She was a mistake. You broke my heart!” His dark skin appeared ashen.
“Melissa, Amir. Of ALL people—Melissa. How could you? Seeing her half-naked in your apartment, in that T-shirt! I can never un-see it, Amir.”
26. The Ides of March
