Chapter Text
Salim was able to make it to school without being late, and sure, maybe he missed the morning gossip, but at least he didn’t miss Rachel.
“Eid mawlid saeid,” he greeted, slightly out of breath. Happy birthday.
He passed to her his gift and the paper bag filled with buttery croissants. Rachel seemed happy with them – the croissants especially. She wouldn’t share them with the others except for Clarice, who was happily chewing and making exaggerated noises at a clearly envious Merwin.
“Did you tell Salim about tomorrow, Rach?” Clarice asked the history teacher after swallowing a large bite of pastry. They had less than five minutes to head for their respective classrooms, so it was only the three of them left in the faculty.
Salim glanced their way before he continued to look through some folders.
“Oh, shit. I almost forgot.” Rachel immediately turned to Salim who smiled at her politely. “I’m having a gathering tomorrow at my place. Just the faculty, a few friends... maybe some family friends. I can email you the details later, but it’s at 6pm. Can you come?”
A gathering was a good opportunity for Salim to get to know more people. Embarrassingly enough, even if he had been in London for a few months now, he still hadn’t made any friends outside of his co-workers. There were some nice neighbors, but he wasn’t sure if they counted.
Jason’s face flashed in Salim’s mind briefly. He would probably get shot by lightning before he ever saw him again in such a large city as London.
“I’ll see if I can. I promised my son that I would call him tomorrow evening so I might be late,” Salim quickly said when he realized he still hadn’t replied. And, well, he wasn’t lying. He did promise Zain that he would call him as soon as he got home.
Rachel shook her head. “No worries, but we’d like it if you came.”
“I’ll try my best,” Salim said before he grabbed his things and left the room.
The day dragged. Salim was busy the whole day, and with his students being rowdier than usual and one having to be taken to the infirmary on top of papers and lessons he would have to review for the next chapter of his discussion, he was basically dragging his heels as soon as he got off the bus and walked the rest of the way home.
He had to stop by and get groceries today seeing as he couldn’t do it tomorrow. And by the time he started walking up the stairs to his apartment with bags of groceries, all that was running through his mind was, What I would do to soak in a warm bath with the radio on, maybe read a book, maybe smoke a cigarette.
At least the sky was in a pretty hue – pinks and oranges blended together to form a sunset color. It casted a soft light on everything it touched, and it made Salim’s surrounding look soft and warm.
As he walked towards his door, he noticed something on his doorstep. Something blue… with petals.
Flowers?
He walked towards it. Now that he was closer, he could see that the item was a bouquet – lucky orchids, hydrangeas and tulips tied together by a white ribbon.
Salim looked around him, but there was no one in sight. And he strongly doubted his neighbors would give him flowers. He turned over the bouquet in his hands and noticed a tag slipped under the ribbon.
Salim pulled it out. There it read, in poor penmanship, ‘Thank you.’
He flipped it over in his hand. There was no information of where the bouquet had come from, much less who had given it to him.
It was odd. Salim didn’t remember helping anyone recently. He had helped his co-workers, but those were minor things – nothing that would earn him a bouquet. It wouldn’t make sense for them to leave it anonymous if they had, either.
So, was it someone who he knew from work? It was unlikely.
Was it Zain? Absolutely not. His son still struggled to tell Salim to take care of himself without stumbling in his words before quickly hanging up the phone. So while it seemed like a sweet sentiment from a son to a father, for Zain, it would be out of character.
So it must be a stranger. Someone Salim did not know, did not remember, but somehow knew his address.
He looked at it, peeked at what was in between the flowers – could there be a bomb? But there was no bomb, nothing sharp or dangerous — it was just flowers tied together with some ribbon and a tag with a handwriting Salim did not recognize.
To end the day, Salim brought it inside with him where it sat next to his little cactus inside an empty milk gallon. He’ll buy a vase for it when he can.
The next day was the day of the gathering. Salim rushed home.
When Salim arrived in his small apartment, he was quick to call his son.
“I probably can’t call for long,” he apologized as soon as Zain picked up the phone. Salim was already looking through his closet to see if there was anything presentable he could wear, so it was likely that the receiver would pick up the shuffling noises on his end. “I got invited to a gathering.”
“Really?” Zain sounded pleasantly surprised. “What for?”
“A birthday of a co-worker.”
“That’s great, baba.”
“Yes, so—” Salim paused to look at a polo shirt he brought with him from Iraq. It looked clean, decent. He laid it on his mattress. He continued, “—this call might be short.”
“It’s fine. It’s not like I have all the time in the world to talk, either. A professor just handed us a few new things to do so my schedule’s kind of packed.”
Salim rifled through his clothes, nothing really catching his eye. “Do you think a polo would suit me?”
“Uh. Don’t you always wear one to work?” Zain asked back. “Maybe it would be better for you to wear something else.”
Salim frowned, looking at his closet. This might take a while.
He and Zain kept talking as a small pile began to form on Salim’s bed. The conversation mainly consisted of Salim naming the things in his closet and Zain making slight comments and asking some questions before ultimately saying no.
(“How about—”
“No.”
“But you haven’t seen—”
“Nope,” Zain cut him off. “Try again, baba.”)
Just as he thought of ending the call — finally, after Zain had said yes to something — he suddenly remembered his encounter with the strange cat. Zain was still unaware that it had happened in the first place, so he told a brief summary of the events to a predictably attentive and quiet line.
“When was this?” Zain asked once Salim was done. That was when he noticed that he had stopped working — he could no longer hear the clicking of keys from a laptop.
“A week ago.”
There was a pause. “Did you bring it home?”
“The cat?” Salim sighed. “No. It looked like it had a home. If I brought it with me, I would probably be stealing from some very loving owners.”
There was another pause. Then Zain pointed out, “You said ‘probably’. And if it ran away...”
“Zain.”
Zain grumbled on the other line. “Live a little, baba.”
“I don’t think stealing pets counts as ‘living a little’.”
“Yeah, yeah. Did it have a collar?”
“No, but even if it didn’t have owners,” which Salim thought was highly unlikely, “I can’t just pick up a random adult cat off the street. Aside from not knowing a single thing about caring for an adult cat, I don’t have anything to feed it and I don’t want it to leave a mess everywhere.”
Silence.
And then, “Boooooo.”
“Zain,” Salim said curtly, again, then he sighed, “Your persistence with getting me a pet leads me to believe that you are the one who wants it, not me.”
“I already told you the reasons how you would benefit from a cat, baba.” Zain then switched the topic and asked, “Was it cute? What kind of cat was it?”
Salim sighed. “Um. It was adorable. And it might be a Persian.”
“You call every cat a Persian. If it’s not a Persian, it’s ‘the bald one’.”
After giving Zain a few more descriptions of the cat, they both ended the call. Zain had briefly told Salim that he might not be able to call next week considering his schedule to which Salim said he was alright with as long as he was taking care of himself.
As he changed into his clothes, he thought silently about the creature from a week ago. Did it find its way home? Or did it not and instead land itself in another street fight with other cats?
Salim hoped it wasn’t the latter.
Eventually, Salim arrived to the party dressed in a warm gray turtleneck and brown slacks. He brought along his trench coat just in case it got cold, which it did, but Salim had always had a high tolerance for chilly evenings like this one.
The first thing he should have done is look for Rachel, however, as soon as he saw the house Rachel had described in the email, all he could do was stare up at it in surprise.
The house was larger than he expected. Rachel had attached an image of it in the email she sent him yesterday so he already knew what it looked like, but seeing it before him was different to seeing it through a screen.
Her house was beautiful, modern. Not so large that it was intimidating and that Salim felt out of place, but large enough for him to check if he was at the right address – which he was, but still.
He returned to his senses. It was rude to gawk at your co-worker’s house. He approached the door. Salim noted its intricate detail and gold linings.
He rang the doorbell, and someone opened the door as if they had been expecting him at that second. He was greeted by the friendly face of Clarice, who was dressed in a pale yellow dress that briefly reminded Salim of champagne. Behind her, Salim could see people. There were some he knew from the faculty and some he didn’t recognize at all.
“Salim!” Clarice nearly gasped, looked pleasantly surprised to see him. Her bright eyes matched her earrings. She waved at Salim, a gesture to follow her inside. “Don’t just stand there, come in!”
Salim stepped inside, surprised to see that there were more people than he expected. Some turned to look at the latecomer, but Salim tried to not let their stares dig too deep.
“Sorry I’m late,” Salim said. “You know how bad traffic gets.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Rach won’t mind.” Clarice whistled, “I’ll say though, way to steal the spotlight. You look good.”
Salim lowered his head, slightly embarrassed, “Thank you. So do you.”
Clarice patted her thigh. “Yeah, right? We look like a pair of hotties.”
Salim didn’t know whether he could classify himself as a ‘hottie’, but he smiled awkwardly at the compliment anyway.
The woman led him through a hall and Salim followed. He tried not to stare for too at some of the decorations and furniture, but he had to admit it was slightly difficult. Rachel had many expensive things, and a part of him momentarily wondered how she managed to afford all of this with a teacher’s wage.
“Her parents are loaded, if you’re wondering,” Clarice said out of nowhere. When Salim stopped staring at a lamp to look at her, she had a smirk on her face.
Salim blushed, embarrassed that he was caught. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. First time I came here, I only had a choker, a shirt, and a pair of bell bottoms on. Normally I wouldn’t care but her parents were around. Honestly thought I was going to get kicked out for wearing,” Clarice pitched her voice up, “paupers’ clothing.”
Salim could imagine it. Very easily so.
“Well thankfully you didn’t,” was all Salim had to say.
“Yeah, but anyway-- Rachel was hoping you would come,” Clarice said. She peeked past a corner and frowned. She turned and shooed Salim back to where they were just a second away. Rachel probably wasn’t where she was looking.
Salim raised his eyebrows. “She was?”
“Of course.” There was laughter coming from a nearby group of friends. He could hear Merwin’s above everyone else’s. “She got vegan options specifically for you. She also got something called a grilled halloumi and some falafel sandwiches.”
“Really?” asked Salim. Clarice nodded her head in answer.
“Yeah, tasted amazing. You should’ve seen Joey. Loved it so much he wouldn’t let go of the damn sandwich not even after I told him I saw his horse, Hockey or something, galloping at u— Oh, there’s the girl of the hour.”
His eyes followed the direction Clarice was staring.
He saw the familiar History teacher who had her back turned to them. She was talking with Nick and another man. From the angle Salim and Clarice were standing at, it was impossible to see the face of the latter, but with the calmness in Rachel’s posture and the large grin on Nick’s face, they seemed to be wrapped up in a friendly discussion.
“Would it be fine to interrupt?” Salim asked.
He didn’t want to bother. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could see Rachel moving her arms about. She was likely telling a story, one that was probably entertaining enough that some people not included in the circle would sneak glances from time to time.
“Probably. Last I heard they were talking about different types of wood or something. Don’t know how they got there but it seemed pretty uneventful. Anyway,” Clarice clapped Salim on the back then pointed behind her with her thumb. “I’m gonna go for seconds on the food. See you there, Salim.”
And just like that, she left Salim standing there.
Salim wasn’t upset, but he had to admit that he was slightly nervous. He had no reason to be, considering he knew some of the people in the room he was currently in, but his hands were still clammy.
He straightened his jacket before stepping up to Rachel who was in the middle of talking about a student of hers.
“—a really bright kid, if only he weren’t so unmotiva—”
Salim cleared his throat. “Rachel?”
The woman paused and turned at the sound of her name. Salim could see that she looked beautiful – she had her hair down and a thin layer of make-up on. However, Salim’s focus was easily ripped away from her not a second after, and his eyes were stuck on the man standing next to Nick.
Calm posture turned stiff as soon as their eyes met. Salim felt his breath leave him.
“Jason?”
“Salim?” came the familiar Southern accent. The look of surprise on Jason’s face mirrored Salim’s.
He was dressed in a plain black Henley and jeans. He had his orange jacket – the same one from this morning – hanging over his shoulder. The man was missing his cap, and Salim was finally able to see that he had short brown hair.
It fit him. Too well.
“You two know each other?” Rachel’s voice snapped Salim back to reality, and the man remembered that he was in a party, he was with respectable people. Rachel and Nick were looking between him and Jason.
“Yes,” Salim answered before Jason could say anything. He managed to tear his eyes away from the man to meet Rachel’s perplexed gaze. “Well, no, but we… bumped into each other earlier today.”
“’Bumped’ would imply you were moving,” Jason muttered.
Salim ignored him and the questioning looks Rachel and Nick gave him. He held a polite smile. “He helped me resolve a personal matter.”
Neither Rachel nor Nick said anything immediately. Jason wasn’t saying anything, either. It seemed that they were waiting for Rachel to initiate, because Nick kept glancing at her, waiting for her to say, well, something.
But Nick broke first. He asked Jason, “Is that why you got yelled at your boss for being late?”
“Wh—” Jason sputtered, ears burning a bright red. He glared at Nick. “No! Traffic was bad, terrible like I said.”
Nick’s words caused Salim’s smile to falter slightly. He was late to work? He said he was free to help.
Jason caught the movement and gave Salim a shy glance before harshly breaking the contact by staring at the ground instead. If the other two in the circle noticed, they didn’t say anything.
Rachel turned to Jason, sighing, “Should I ask?” Her hands were on her waist.
“Nah.”
Rachel turned to Salim, eyes asking the same question.
Salim gave her an apologetic smile.
“Okay then,” The air between the form of them seemed to change with her words alone. She gave Salim a friendly smile, “Now that that’s done, thank you for coming, Salim. I got some vegan options for you and,” she huffed a slight laugh, “If Clarice is the one who showed you around, I’m sure she told you about the food?”
Salim chuckled. “It seemed she liked them. Thank you, Rachel.”
“Don’t mention it.” She turned to Jason, who perked up when her eyes met his. Salim realized the American was staring at him before. “Jason, can you show him to the dining area?”
Salim was about to interrupt and say he could look for it himself, but Jason got to it before he did. “Yes ma’am,” he replied. He turned to look up at Nick. “You coming?”
Nick was already taller than Salim, so seeing him stand next to Jason made the latter look even shorter. It didn’t help that he didn’t have his baseball cap on to at least give him a false inch or two.
(Salim winced internally. Maybe he went too far with the cap comment.)
The P.E. teacher shook his head. He nodded his head to Rachel’s direction. “Nah, I’m sticking around for the story.”
“Good,” Rachel said, looking pleased. “I only asked Kolchek, anyway.”
Jason rolled his eyes.
He motioned for Salim to follow him. When they were far enough, just a few steps away from the other teachers, the taller man muttered, ”I’m sorry.”
Jason gave him a quick glance before he shook his head. “Nothin’ to be sorry for. I wanted to talk to you, anyway.”
Salim couldn’t say anything to that, so he didn’t. If he said anything, he’s sure his stammering would give him away.
The American led him to a dining room that had a pretty chandelier in the middle of the ceiling. At the center stood a long table that had lines of food sitting on top of it in metal containers. There was still quite a lot left despite him being slightly late.
There was no Clarice in sight; perhaps Salim was a bit too late for this one.
“So,” Jason started, watching Salim pick up a plate. His tone was careful, like he was choosing his words carefully. “Did someone end up mistakin’ you for one of the store’s displays?”
Salim squinted at the other man before he realized what he was referring to. He sighed, not surprised that it was brought up.
“You would be surprised, but no. I went in, got my pastry, and gave them to Rachel.” He gave Jason a grateful glance, “Thank you for changing my mind about the flowers. She liked the croissants very much.”
Jason laughed, slightly embarrassed, “Don’t mention it, man.” He looked down at Salim’s outfit.
Salim hummed, picking up some salad with his tongs. There was a vegan pizza nearby, and as Salim reached for it, he felt a heavy gaze on him. He turned to see Jason flinch in surprise at having been caught staring before looking away.
“Are you getting anything?” The taller man raised his plate in offer.
“Nah, I’m good.” Salim must have looked unconvinced because he added, “Sorry. I’m good, really. If I’m acting weird or anythin’, it’s because of you.”
Salim’s eyes widened. “Me?”
“Hold on, that sounded a bit…” Jason trailed off, scratching the back of his head. It didn’t do much to hide his reddening ears.
Salim shook his head. “It’s fine, Jason.”
“Yeah, I-- But you know what I mean… seeing you again so soon is odd. Much less in my best friend’s sort-of-crush-but-she-has-no-clue’s late birthday party.”
“If it makes you feel better,” Salim chuckled, “It was a surprise to see you as well. But trust me, it was a pleasant one.”
A pause before, “Cool. Same.”
The teacher couldn’t keep the smile from breaking in at the awkward reply.
It was quiet between them for a bit, just the sound of people chattering around them, the sound of tongs hitting Salim’s plate. Then Jason made a weird noise at the back of his throat, like he realized something. Salim glanced at him.
“Okay, wait. So when you said your friend liked romance novels…”
Salim watched him connect cog pieces in his brain, trying to form an image, somehow. It was slightly amusing.
“You meant… Rachel liked reading romance novels?”
“Yes.”
“…Really?”
Salim raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“No, but I feel like I should be more surprised.”
Salim looked around, trying to find an empty table. There was still no sight of Clarice, and while there were three tables present, all of them were occupied. “Do you know somewhere we can sit?”
Jason looked surprised. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he shook his head instead. The Iraqi wondered if he was making up the faint blush on his cheek.
“We can sit outside if you want. Rachel’s got a nice backyard.”
“Would she mind?”
“Maybe. Just say it was my idea if we get caught.”
They go despite Salim’s reluctance. The both of them eventually get settled on a wooden table by a peach tree that had lights attached to its branches. It glowed a faint yellow, but it was barely noticeable under the moonlight.
It was weird to eat on porcelain outdoors, but the food tasted delicious, and the company Jason had to offer was comforting. He felt weird eating while Jason was empty handed, so he offered him a slice of the vegan pizza.
“I can’t say no, can I?”
“Please.”
Then both Salim and Jason were eating.
It was easy to talk to Jason. It was easy to make jokes, to ask questions, to answer his inquiries. Jason told him about working in construction, how he had served two years prior to arriving in London, to how he didn’t like eating citrus but would be forced to because “It’s damn good for you,” said his sister.
And Salim told him about his job, his life back in Iraq – little things about himself that he never thought of as interesting but Jason was looking at him the whole time, asking questions and Salim would have to elaborate and Jason would follow it up with another and--
Salim liked talking to him. Probably too much.
Eventually, he mentioned having a son.
Jason gaped at him. “Really? How old is he?”
“Nineteen,” Salim answered, voice brimming with pride, “He’s in his second year of university. He came here last year and I followed this year in order to be closer to him. He doesn’t live with me, so we call every week just to see how each other is doing.”
“Sounds like you guys are close.”
Salim smiled. “We are.”
“And his mom?”
Zain’s mom.
Salim must have made a face because Jason’s expression quickly twisted into one of guilt. “Shit, sorry. You don’t have to answer if it’s anythin’ sensitive.”
Salim shook his head. “It’s alright, it was a long time ago. But to make it short, she left us when Zain was only four.”
The American was quiet save for a quiet, “Oh.” At a loss for words, most likely.
It was a reaction Salim was used to receiving whenever he talked about Zain’s mother. It was either that or a low “I’m sorry.”
Which--
“I’m sorry.” There it was. Jason’s voice was careful. “But you probably get that a lot, huh?”
Salim gave him a small smile. He couldn’t quite look at Jason so he looked at the outdoor grill next to the sliding door instead. He recognized it in one of the home magazines he would see sitting next to the register when he would line up to pay for groceries.
“Yes, but like I said, it was a long time ago,” Salim said a moment later. He clasped his hands together, elbows sitting on the table. He rested his chin atop. “And although it felt like everything was falling apart, Zain and I,” he glanced at Jason and gave him a small smile, “we managed to pick up the pieces.”
“Must’ve taken a while.”
“Oh it took,” Salim inhaled, remembering the tantrums and the tears and the chaos and the rarity of peaceful evenings, “quite a while.”
“It’s tough,” Jason muttered. When Salim looked at him, he noted the troubled expression drawn on his features. “Not that I’d know, but raising a kid is already pretty tough on its own. But raising a kid that young all by yourself ‘specially after what happened sounds…” he trailed off.
“Difficult?” offered Salim.
“I was thinking ‘like a kick in the dick’. But yeah, that sounds more fitting. And appropriate.”
“I suppose,” Salim chuckled. “I made sure to raise Zain as best I could. Eventually he got used to it just being the two of us,” his voice lowered to a more somber tone, “but I could tell that for the longest time, there was a hole I could never fill. I tried my best, and at this point I can only hope that I did enough.”
Salim’s brows were furrowed together. He wasn’t looking at Jason anymore.
After what seemed like a moment of hesitation, Jason placed a hand on his arm to soothe him. Salim stiffened at the sudden touch, but quickly relaxed. The American’s voice was soothing.
“Hey, man, I’m sure you did. Your son’s in another country, going to some fancy Brit school on a scholarship. That’s pretty fucking impressive for a single dad to raise on his own.”
Salim smiled at him. “I suppose. Thank you, Jason.” Then it fell and he broke eye contact. “It’s just—I can tell he worries. My son. Since we moved here, he wouldn’t stop asking if I was alright, living alone by myself. I feel like I should be the one asking him that, but…”
“I can’t blame him for worryin’. It’s pretty drastic — going from living together for over fifteen years then suddenly it’s just you in a foreign country.”
“Exactly.” Salim hummed, realizing that he had broken the light atmosphere they had from a while ago. He tried to shift the mood to something lighter, fondly saying, “Zain wouldn’t stop badgering me about getting a pet.”
Jason looked surprised. “Your place allows pets?”
“Yes. Small animals like small dogs, cats, hamsters, and the like. Ever since Zain found out, he wouldn’t stop mentioning every other call just how nice it would be for me to get one.”
“He’s a good kid.”
“He is. He’s not the most openly affectionate, but he has certain tells. I’ve gotten better at identifying them over the years.” Salim sighed, “And his persistence only grew when I told him about this cat I met the other day.”
“A cat?” Jason seemed to perk up at the mention of the feline. Salim wondered if he was fond of them.
“Yes, I was able to keep it from getting attacked by strays.”
“Sounds pretty heroic,” Jason commented, an amused smirk on his face.
Salim waved a hand dismissively. “Not at all. I simply drove away the strays that were cornering it with my bag. If I’m being honest, I thought I was going to be walking home with at least a scratch, but I came out of it unharmed.”
“You’re one lucky guy, Salim.”
Salim laughed slightly, “I’d like to hope so. I told my son about it and he was lamenting on the fact that I didn’t bring it home with me after.”
“Well, would you? If you could, I mean.”
Salim paused. “Maybe,” he answered a moment later.
There was a weird glint in Jason’s eye when he said, “Really?”
“It was tempting, and I’m quite fond of cats,” even though he only knew two breeds, “but aside from completely being unprepared to bring home an adult cat, I had a suspicion that the cat had owners. No collar, yes, but it looked like it was well taken care of so I simply assumed.”
“Yeah, if that’s the case, it kinda makes you wonder how it ended up in an alleyway by itself…”
“My best guess is that maybe its owner had left a window open on accident and it managed to slip out unnoticed.”
“Yeah, probably. And y’know, Salim, if it ran away…”
“Oh. I already know what you’re hinting at,” Salim interrupted. He thought of an earlier phone call. “My son had tried to suggest the same idea.”
“There’s a reason we thought the same thing. It’s a damn good point.”
“Not really,” answered Salim. “Cats are curious things; They see a window and immediately jump out without really thinking about it.”
“I guess,” Jason admitted. Salim grinned at the pout that began to form on the other man’s face. “You’re right.”
“I know,” Salim said, “However it may have gotten in that alley that evening, if it had no owners and if I had been more prepared...” Salim sighed, “It just gets lonely from time to time; the company would be nice.”
Jason merely hummed in reply.
Salim glanced at the American. The man was staring off into space, looking deep in thought. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to talk about myself so much,” Salim apologized, slightly embarrassed. “From my son to the cat—"
“Nothin’ to say sorry for, Salim. I asked,” He reassured him with a smile. Jason seemed to be giving Salim his full attention now. “It was nice to get to know you better, anyway.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Salim replied, ignoring the way something inside him fluttered.
A breeze passed by, causing Jason to shiver. Salim was about to offer his coat, but he decided to peer down at his watch instead. It was nearing 8PM. “It’s already late. Do you want to go back inside?”
Jason frowned at him, confused, before turned on his mobile device. He shut it off and pocketed it, muttering an expletive.
“Fuck, we really sat here freezing our asses off for nearly an hour.”
Salim smirked, pointing out, “You were the one who suggested we sit outside.”
“Well I didn’t think you had the thermal capacity of a fuckin’ bear.”
Salim laughed, heading indoors with his plate in hand. Jason quickly followed.
They ended up bumping into a one very dejected Nick Kay. Jason was quick to ask him what was wrong and Salim quickly excused himself to give them some privacy, earning him a grateful glance from the American. He didn’t want to intrude on what could be a serious conversation between close friends.
He managed to bump into Clarice and Joey who were more than happy to talk Salim’s ear off. They introduced him to some people, and Salim would be lying if he said he remembered all their names.
By the time both teachers excused themselves, it was nearing 9PM. Salim left the interaction feeling like he had heard enough obscure movie recommendations to last him a lifetime.
Salim didn’t get to say goodbye to Jason. The teacher had looked for him after saying his goodbyes to Rachel and a few others, but he suspected that whatever it was that had happened with Nick left Jason occupied. Chances are, the man had already left.
And, Salim realized, he forgot to ask for Jason’s contacts. But he could always just ask Nick for them on Monday, so it no longer felt like Salim had to rely on luck to see him again.
For now, Salim simply stood outside just a couple blocks away from Rachel’s home and watched the stars, bits of the evening playing in his mind, but it was mostly Jason.
He shook his head.
He didn’t have a reason for doing this particular activity at the moment. There was nothing special about them tonight. They were the same stars he would see every night out the window as he read a book on the sofa. They twinkled like they did every other night.
Salim watched them alone like he always did. Sometimes the radio would play, sometimes he had a book in his hand.
But right now, Salim was outside. He was just at a party, he made friends.
Maybe I should get a fish. He thought, but then the image of a sad empty fishbowl came to mind.
Or maybe not.
He finally went home when he felt the cold finally start to nip at him.
The next day, Salim woke up to a cat sitting on his kitchen counter next to the hydrangeas, tulips, and orchids sitting in the milk carton, the familiar shield against the dark fur coming into view.