slurped back the refreshing drink, a sweet and sour mixture that cured hot flashes as well as nights of excessive tippling of the black and tans.
Marjan returned to the sink. “I'm not getting involved. I told you how I felt about you drinking last night,” she said to Layla. “I want to leave it at that.”
Layla pouted. “It was just a little sip.”
“Still, you are underage. And it isn't that healthy for you either.”
Layla looked indignant. “But you drank. I saw you at the bar with Fiona.”
“I'm older, Layla. And this is not about what I do at the bar.” Marjan rolled her tired shoulders and turned back to the island. “Just take it easy with Bahar, all right? All this arguing is making me lose my concentration.”
She stared at the bowl of walnuts and apricots for a moment, trying to remember the next step in her stuffing recipe.
Was it chop first then fry, or fry then chop? It was simple enough. So why couldn't she remember it? Her mind was all over the place today, fractioned. Scattered, even.
Layla raised her hands in protest. “She just won't stop. How did she find out anyway? She wasn't even at the pub.”
Marjan hadn't seen Bahar at the bar either, but she wasn't too surprised to hear that her sister had uncovered Layla's Guinness venture. Bahar had access to an intuition that could come only from her sensitive nature.
“I don't know how she knows, but I do know that she hasn't had one of her headaches in a very long time. And you are not helping keep it that way.” She gave her younger sister a knowing glance. “All right?”
Layla shrugged, nodding reluctantly. She placed her hummus roll on a small plate and sat down to her snack. Halfway through her roll, a devilish smile stole across her face.
She put down her food and crossed her arms. “So, who's that guy you were talking to last night?”
Marjan did not answer right away. She moved to the stove as casually as possible, turning up the back burner. She let it crackle under a deep pan of butter before giving a small shrug. “Just a customer,” she said, dumping the fruit and nuts into the sizzling butter.
“I've never served him before. He was nice,” Layla said, throwing her sister a bemused smile.
Marjan shook her head, stirred the golden mixture. “What happened to Malachy being your one true love? Are you growing fickle in your old age, Miss Layla?”
Layla shrugged. “I have eyes, don't I? And they told me that guy was nice.”
Marjan blushed, sending Layla into a peal of laughter.
“Okay, okay. But you haven't heard the end of this conversation.” After a moment she spoke again: “Marjan?”
“Yes,
joon-e man
?”
“Have you thought more about, you know, that thing we talked about? At the train station?”
Marjan turned to face her little sister. “Fat Friar's?”
Layla nodded, her turn now to become shy.
Marjan sighed. “I have to be honest with you, Layla. I'm not sure if I feel comfortable with the whole thing.”
“Why? You said you'd think about it.”
“And I have. But I just haven't made up my mind yet. You have to respect that.”
“But you said I should come to you with stuff like this.” Layla's voice took on a slight whine.
“Like I said at the train station—just because you came to me doesn't mean I have to agree with what you ask. Like it or not, I am the eldest. Sometimes I have to make decisions that might not make you happy. All right?”
“You don't have to tell me that,” Layla replied. She sank into her chair, her long legs flopping open before her. “I live with you, remember?”
Marjan let out another sigh and rubbed her neck. She placed the lid over the simmering nuts and fruit and walked over to Layla. “We need to set some time aside and talk about this properly,” she said, placing a hand gently on her sister's shoulder. “We'll go through everything, why you think you're ready, what Malachy really thinks, and then …”
“And then?”
“And then, I'll
Marjan returned to the sink. “I'm not getting involved. I told you how I felt about you drinking last night,” she said to Layla. “I want to leave it at that.”
Layla pouted. “It was just a little sip.”
“Still, you are underage. And it isn't that healthy for you either.”
Layla looked indignant. “But you drank. I saw you at the bar with Fiona.”
“I'm older, Layla. And this is not about what I do at the bar.” Marjan rolled her tired shoulders and turned back to the island. “Just take it easy with Bahar, all right? All this arguing is making me lose my concentration.”
She stared at the bowl of walnuts and apricots for a moment, trying to remember the next step in her stuffing recipe.
Was it chop first then fry, or fry then chop? It was simple enough. So why couldn't she remember it? Her mind was all over the place today, fractioned. Scattered, even.
Layla raised her hands in protest. “She just won't stop. How did she find out anyway? She wasn't even at the pub.”
Marjan hadn't seen Bahar at the bar either, but she wasn't too surprised to hear that her sister had uncovered Layla's Guinness venture. Bahar had access to an intuition that could come only from her sensitive nature.
“I don't know how she knows, but I do know that she hasn't had one of her headaches in a very long time. And you are not helping keep it that way.” She gave her younger sister a knowing glance. “All right?”
Layla shrugged, nodding reluctantly. She placed her hummus roll on a small plate and sat down to her snack. Halfway through her roll, a devilish smile stole across her face.
She put down her food and crossed her arms. “So, who's that guy you were talking to last night?”
Marjan did not answer right away. She moved to the stove as casually as possible, turning up the back burner. She let it crackle under a deep pan of butter before giving a small shrug. “Just a customer,” she said, dumping the fruit and nuts into the sizzling butter.
“I've never served him before. He was nice,” Layla said, throwing her sister a bemused smile.
Marjan shook her head, stirred the golden mixture. “What happened to Malachy being your one true love? Are you growing fickle in your old age, Miss Layla?”
Layla shrugged. “I have eyes, don't I? And they told me that guy was nice.”
Marjan blushed, sending Layla into a peal of laughter.
“Okay, okay. But you haven't heard the end of this conversation.” After a moment she spoke again: “Marjan?”
“Yes,
joon-e man
?”
“Have you thought more about, you know, that thing we talked about? At the train station?”
Marjan turned to face her little sister. “Fat Friar's?”
Layla nodded, her turn now to become shy.
Marjan sighed. “I have to be honest with you, Layla. I'm not sure if I feel comfortable with the whole thing.”
“Why? You said you'd think about it.”
“And I have. But I just haven't made up my mind yet. You have to respect that.”
“But you said I should come to you with stuff like this.” Layla's voice took on a slight whine.
“Like I said at the train station—just because you came to me doesn't mean I have to agree with what you ask. Like it or not, I am the eldest. Sometimes I have to make decisions that might not make you happy. All right?”
“You don't have to tell me that,” Layla replied. She sank into her chair, her long legs flopping open before her. “I live with you, remember?”
Marjan let out another sigh and rubbed her neck. She placed the lid over the simmering nuts and fruit and walked over to Layla. “We need to set some time aside and talk about this properly,” she said, placing a hand gently on her sister's shoulder. “We'll go through everything, why you think you're ready, what Malachy really thinks, and then …”
“And then?”
“And then, I'll
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