I faltered.Try anything?“He’s already trying to shut down my mom’s restaurant. I don’t think he’ll have time to try anything else. Besides, Rashid likes him.”
Yusuf looked over my shoulder at Rashid, who was still busy texting. “If I didn’t have work today, I’d come with you.”
A retching sound behind us, quickly masked by a cough. Rashid’s head was still bent over his cellphone.
I rounded on my cousin after Yusuf returned to the store. “What’s wrong with you? Yusuf is one of my oldest friends.”
“He started it.Ullu.”
“Who’s your friend?” Aydin walked towards us, dressed more formally today in a blue shirt, slim black pants, and white Gucci sneakers. His eyes were hidden behind his silver shades.
“We were talking about Yusuf,” I replied, and Aydin frowned slightly.
“You have a thing for pretty boys,” he said, removing his sunglasses.
“They have a thing for me,” I shot back.
His eyes darkened and he stepped closer. “Oh, look, a tree,” he said flatly. “Would you like to hide behind it?”
I blushed and walked quickly towards the bus bench. A minute later, white Gucci sneakers appeared in front of me. I didn’t look up.
“I’m sorry,” Aydin said. “I was trying to be funny. I’m not as good at teasing as you. Maybe we could call a truce. Just for today?”
I stood up, closing the gap between us. He smelled faintly of soap and that sandalwood cologne I liked, which annoyed me so much that I leaned forward and very carefully stepped on his right foot, pressing down on the soft white leather.
When I lifted my foot, there was a clear black imprint on his formerly pristine shoe. “Truce,” I said sweetly.
RASHID WAS DEEPLY UNIMPRESSED WITH THE BUS.“It’s no fun without people hanging from the sides,” he complained. “Where’s the danger? Where’s the sense of adventure?” I was almost positive he was joking.
The subway disappointed him too. “No wonder Canadians are so boring. Nobody talks to each other. No boys trying to pick up girls and getting smacked with chappals. Where’s the entertainment?”
“It’s not so entertaining for the girls being harassed, believe me,” I replied. Aydin and I exchanged a glance, then quickly looked away. We hadn’t talked too much on the ride. After he had furiously wiped his shoe clean, we had stayed out of each other’s way.
Rashid perked up when we arrived at Union Station, craning his head at the imposing beige brick building with its distinctive Beaux-Arts architecture. He bounded ahead as we emerged from the station. “This is more like it!” he said, smiling at a pretty brunette in a floral sundress.
We walked to the CN Tower from the station in silence, Rashid taking videos and narrating his impressions to share with family and friends in Delhi. At the ticket desk Aydin tried to pay for all of us, but I had already bought the tickets online, so we skipped the traditional desi game ofPlease let me pay, as my honour depends on this show of generosity. I’ve seen grown men almost come to blows when denied the joy of treating everyone. Aydin put away his credit card without a word, and my respect for him grew—slightly.
There was a line for the elevator to the viewing platform. Rashid continued to take pictures while Aydin continued to wear his sunglasses and ignore me. I should have stomped on both shoes when I had the chance.
At the front of the line a perky tour guide with bright red lipstick greeted us. “Welcome to the Canadian National Tower!” she said, grinning at the small crowd clustered in front of the elevator. “The CN Tower was constructed in 1976 and held the record for world’s tallest freestanding structure for thirty-two years. It is 553.3 metres tall and is also used as a radio and communications tower. From the top viewing platform you will be able to see all around the beautiful city of Toronto and beyond!” She ushered our group inside the elevator.
My eyes drifted to Aydin, beside me at the back of the elevator. I noticed he had turned an unhealthy shade of Pale White Man. His head was ducked low, arms crossed tightly across his chest. Concerned, I leaned forward and noticed a trickle of sweat snaking from brow to chin. His eyes were closed tightly beneath the sunglasses, and his breathing was shallow. “Aydin,” I said softly. “Are you all right?” My hand hovered over his arm.
He didn’t respond. But then, it was a stupid question. He was clearly not okay.
The elevator began its supercharged ascension to the LookOut level, 346 metres from the ground. As the other passengers exclaimed over the speed and peered through the partial glass floor of the elevator, I kept my eyes on Aydin, who seemed to be shrinking more into himself the higher we rose. He swayed slightly, and I rested my hand firmly on his arm as his shallow breaths grew ragged.
After what felt like an hour but was probably no longer than sixty seconds, we arrived at the LookOut level. Rashid was at the very front, and he waved as the crowd pulled him out. I exchanged a look with the cheerful elevator operator. Without a word, she shut the door and we began a rapid descent to ground level.
Aydin managed to walk out of the elevator without help, making it through the main door before sinking to the concrete ledge at the entrance. I took a seat beside him and quietly passed him a bottle of water. He removed his sunglasses and took a long sip.
“I’m terrified of cats,” I said after his breathing had settled somewhat.
Aydin grunted. “Don’t do that,” he said. “I don’t need your pity.”
I ignored him. “Yusuf had a cat when we were kids. Whenever I went to his house, she would wait at the top of the stairs for me to walk past. And then she would jump on me, flying through the air like an avenging tabby angel.”
Aydin smiled weakly. His face was starting to look less green.
