What if we held the street festival and things got out of hand? Golden Crescent had been through enough.
“We will not cancel.” Mom stood behind us, eyes flashing, her exhaustion gone. “We live here. Our friends live here. I will not bethreatened by strangers.” She turned to me. “I will talk to Brother Musa. Put it to the rest of the businesses if you want, but Three Sisters will participate, even if we are the only stall on the entire street.”
Mom walked the Imam out. They were discussing who they would talk to in the neighbourhood to encourage a better turnout, and how to drum up more community support. I quickly texted Aydin to let him know what had happened. Surely he would respond to the message, even though he had ignored the other three I had sent. I was starting to worry about him.
Rashid reached for his jacket and wallet. “I will go to the police station right now and inform Constable Lukie about the planned protest.” He paused. “Will you be okay to return home on your own tonight after closing?”
I waved him off, trying not to think about the dark walk back and the hateful flyer. This was my home. I was safe. Besides, one shriek and five people would come running.
The last customer left after ten o’clock. I wiped down the counters, ran the dishwasher, and stacked cutlery, plates, and other supplies before turning off the lights. It was after eleven when I turned on the security alarm and flipped the deadbolt.
I checked my phone. Still nothing from Aydin, but there was a message from Lily.
Where are you?
Walking home, I typed back.
Meet you on the corner.
Lily was waiting for me at the edge of Golden Crescent, just before the street emptied into our residential neighbourhood. She wore a white hoodie over tights, her hair tightly wound in a braid. Her face was pale under the street lamp, and I hugged her, happy she had thought to text me. I was relieved to have some company in the dark quiet of the neighbourhood, and I was eager to update her about Aydin and the restaurant and to ask for some advice.
I opened my mouth to speak, but hesitated. Lily had drawn her arms tightly around herself and ducked her head into the warmth of her sweatshirt hood. She wasn’t there to catch up or hear my latest gossip, I realized. Lily had come to tell me something, and she was working up her nerve. Silence stretched taut between us, an elastic band ready to snap.
“Yusuf and I...” Lily started, before trailing off and trying again. “He’s coming with me to Timmins. He wants to get involved in First Nations advocacy, to see if he can set up a Muslim–First Nations cooperative.”
I smiled at her in the darkness. Some good news, finally. “Did you like the ring?” I asked.
Lily nodded, and I knew there was more.
“We eloped last week,” she said softly. “Yusuf and I are married.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Over breakfast the next morning, Rashid filled me in on his conversation with Constable Lukie, but I wasn’t paying attention. My mind was stuck on a single thought:Married. Yusuf and Lily are MARRIED! And they didn’t tell me!
I had spoken to Yusuf recently and he hadn’t said a word. Lily and I had talked during the protest at Aydin’s launch, and she hadn’t hinted that they were even back together, let alone joined by a more permanent bond. My two best friends had taken that huge step without telling me, the keeper of their confidences.
On top of the other secrets everyone had kept from me, it felt like a betrayal. Things were changing all around me: Fazeela and Fahim’s plans to move halfway across the country for a fresh start; the idea that my mother might close the restaurant; my self-imposed ouster from Radio Toronto; and now my two best friends leaving me behind. Rashid would eventually return to India, and Kawkab Khala’s departure would come even sooner than that. All I would be left with was a rapidly changing Golden Crescent, my jumbled feelings for Aydin, and my life in the middle of a massive upheaval, whether I welcomed the change or not.
I remembered Fazeela’s advice from a few nights before, while her careful hands smoothed and shaped my face.It’s time to think about what you want to do next. It’s okay to be selfish.I had filled my heart and hands with everyone else’s burdens, had accepted their worries as if they had been my own, assuming they were all doing the same for me—but they weren’t. The thought made me feel lonely, and my eyes filled with tears.
Rashid stopped talking instantly, stricken at my reaction. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I know it has been difficult lately, but things will work out for the better. You will see.”
I sniffed, wiping my eyes. “Don’t you mean work out for the best?”
Rashid looked puzzled. “Best is not for this world, Hana Apa. Better is all we can hope for in this life.”
He was right. No matter what happened next—with Aydin, with Three Sisters, with my family and my career in broadcasting—I could only keep working and hope for better. In the case of Aydin, I could also confront his silence on his own turf.
THE CHEF AND MANAGER OFWholistic Grill, Gary, was taking orders at the cash when I entered the busy restaurant. I asked if Aydin was around and free to talk.
A frown crossed Gary’s face. “He had to rush back to Vancouver.”
Aydin had left? “Did he say why?” I asked.
Gary shrugged. “His dad had some sort of emergency. Aydin told me I was in charge and that he’d be back.” He smiled at the next person in line.
I felt more confused than ever. I was glad Aydin was okay, but why wasn’t he replying to the—I checked my phone—half-dozen messages I had sent over two days? Was I being ghosted?
