He had really nice lips.
“Does that mean we can try again?”
“Yeah.”
“What about . . . what I said?”
My heart thudded. “What do you mean?”
“About . . . you. Me.” Chip’s ears turned pink. “I still think you’re beautiful.”
It was my turn to chew on my lip. Chip’s eyes darted down to my mouth.
I sighed.
“Landon and I broke up. I guess you probably heard.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”
“Don’t be. It really wasn’t. But I need some time. You know?”
“Yeah. I get that.”
I finally looked into Chip’s eyes. They were warm and hopeful.
“But I think you’re beautiful too.”
Chip’s grin lit up like a warp core.
“And smart. And brave.”
“I’m not really.”
“I think you are.” I nodded to myself. “But I need you to be my friend first. Okay?”
“Okay.”
* * *
“Hi, Darioush-jan!” Mamou said when I called. “I miss you!”
“I miss you too.”
“How are you doing?”
“Okay. A little sad. We lost our soccer game. It was playoffs.”
“I’m sorry. I know you played your hardest.”
“I quit my job too.”
“Your mom told me.”
As if summoned, Mom appeared in my doorway. She hung back, though.
“Um,” I said, and glanced to Mom and back at my screen. “I talked to Sohrab.”
“I’m so happy!” Mamou’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, maman.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“Maybe he can come to Portland someday.”
“That would be amazing.” I cleared my throat. “How are you doing?”
Mamou sighed. “You know. Every day is different. Sometimes sad. Sometimes mad. Sometimes I forget.”
“Me too.”
“Sometimes I think of something and turn to tell him. But he’s not there.”
There were things I wanted to tell Babou too. It was too late for that.
But I knew I had to tell Mamou.
My sternum tightened.
“Mamou? Can I tell you something?”
“Of course, Darioush-jan.”
“I . . . I’m gay.”
“Eh? Gay?”
Mom stepped closer and rested her hand on my head. She played with my hair and said something in Farsi. I chewed on my lips and waited for the fallout.
“Oh!” Mamou said. “Gay. I’m glad you told me, maman. Because I love all of you.”
My chest relaxed.
I wanted to run around the room and laugh.
“Do you have a boyfriend, maman?”
“No,” I said. “We broke up.”
“I’m sorry. You are the sweetest boy in the world. And so handsome. You will find someone.”
We talked for a little while longer, but eventually our conversation petered out and we started to say goodbye.
“Okay, talk soon, Darioush. Give my love to your dad and Laleh.”
“I will.”
“I love you, maman. Shirin-jan, khodahafes.”
“Khodahafes, maman.” Mom said something else, something I didn’t recognize.
When Mamou’s picture blinked out, Mom said, “That was very brave. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
After dinner we all crowded onto the couch: me and Dad in the middle, Mom to Dad’s right and Laleh to my left, with her feet curled up underneath her.
It felt like forever since we’d been a family like this.
While Deep Space Nine’s opening credits played, Mom cracked some tokhmeh between her teeth.
Laleh used the two minutes of music to open her book and read a few paragraphs.
Dad squeezed my shoulder and said, “I missed this.”
“Me too.”
I studied my dad. He had shaved—finally—and gotten a haircut too.
He was sadder than I remembered, but he was solid, and he was home.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Doing better,” he said. “Really.”
He brought my head down to kiss it.
“How about you?”
I took a deep breath and studied my family in the reflection from the television.
“Yeah. I’m okay.”