Love Under the Persian Moon

“Ezra, Happy Birthday!” A couple who I swear I have never seen in my life, cooed.

“Thank you,” I nodded politely, watching my mother’s trying gaze. She seemed worried. Worried that I’d mess up. The crowd watched my every move, and people were pulling out their phones, like paparazzi. I shuddered, wishing I was back in my bedroom, reading a cheesy romance novel. My mother huffed, nodding ever so slightly. We sat down at our own personal table, a seat left out for my dad, even though everyone knew that he wasn’t going to make an appearance. Much to their disappointment. A waiter placed plates onto the table.

“The governor is to run for another term. I expected his presence here.” Some women gossiped. “Poor man, so swamped with work he can’t even come to his daughter’s birthday.” I could feel my head shaking. No. He’s just put me on display. I’m a pawn in his game. Not his daughter. Mama sat and started to wolf down her food. I slipped into my chair, picking at my plate.

“Mama, do you remember my friend, Zahir?” I asked, bored. But she was too busy eating to pay any attention. I slumped in my chair, frowning.

“Cousin Ezra!” Two identical dark heads appeared from under the tablecloth. I nearly fell backwards in my chair.

“Ali, Amir, you little scoundrels.” I hissed, even though I was laughing. Their cheeks were puffed out, full of sweets.

“We got you a sour candy.” Ali put a lonely looking Styrofoam wrapped sweet into my palm.

“Gee, thanks. How kind of you.” I teased. Ali smiled, revealing his teeth, colored by an assortment of candy. 

“I think I’m going to get the two of you a glass of water.” I said, turning around to the drinks booth, but before I could, I found myself thinking about the romance novel, lying open on

my bedside. It wasn’t a good book, and I bet if my parents found it, I’d be in big trouble, but I kind of just read it, wishing that someday… love would happen to me. I mean, it might have by now. If I were allowed to be out by myself for more than ten seconds.

I watched as a guy, dressed up in a tuxedo, picked out a velvety chocolate, wrapped in decadent pink paper, and handed it to a girl wearing a pretty green dress. She started to blush, casting her eyes down shyly, taking the candy with her fabulously painted nails. They weren't emblazoned with jewels or anything. Just green and white, to match her dress. I started to walk away, grabbing a couple glasses of water for my cousins.

Love? I’ve never necessarily been the one going around to hunt out men, blushing whenever a boy would pass me by the street. I only have one love. One love forever. 

Zahir. The last time I saw him, we were barely teenagers, but I can still feel his smile. He was out in space and down to earth at the same time, even though he had grown up poor. Sure, I had seen him do things he wasn’t supposed to, like break into shops. But there was just something about him, he was just so strong. His head was always in the game. The two of us used to do everything together. He had taught me to skateboard, and he laughed at my corny jokes and not once did he ever keep a secret. We would sit under the stars, eating Turkish delight or whatever food we could find from the street vendors, and I would ease him along the pages of a book, making funny voices for each character. He would always moan that this was his least favorite part of the day, but I could see the twinkle in his eyes. One time, I had poetically called the full moon a Persian Moon, and even though Zahir groaned that the name was disgustingly poetic, it stuck. We were just friends, for a long time, and I don’t know when I actually started to have a crush on him, but I was too embarrassed to tell anyone about it, not even my closest friends. I should’ve manned up and told him. I should’ve said something. But it was too late. Zahir’s father was given a life sentence to a prison abroad, and his family just kind of broke apart. My dad didn’t let me wander anywhere near him after that, sending me off to a boarding school.

I was supposed to forget him after that. Weather him off like a coat. But I couldn’t. Every day I saw his face. I remembered falling right on top of him, when he was teaching me to skateboard. That was funny. I remembered dressing him up in a rabbit costume. He patiently sat there, not complaining once. I remembered running up to him, sobbing, after the news channels stuck microphones into my young face, after my father became governor. I remembered fighting with him over the last piece of baklava.

I remembered that he would punch anyone who shot me a smug look, fight anyone who scorned me for being so short, or for having rabbit teeth. Or for being a ‘princess’ I remembered walking out of the class when our teacher started to yell at him for something we all knew he didn’t do. My parents were called that day, but neither of them showed up, so a letter got sent home and I was grounded. 

I remembered the very last time I saw him.

“Zahir.” I threw a rock at his bedroom window, perched high up on the top floor of an apartment building, standing in my nightdress, sobbing. Everything hurt. My hands. My Knees. My Heart. The moon was out, high in the sky. “Zahir.” I threw another rock at the window, just as it jarred open, hitting his nose. He squeezed the purple bruise.

“Ouch, Ezra.” He moaned. “You could’ve hurt me.” Zahir hopped out of his window, still clutching his face. He stopped as soon as he saw my tear-stricken face. “What’s wrong?” He looked at me, scared and worried, in the midst of the Persian Moon.

“I have to leave.” I whispered, wiping my eyes with the insides of my palms, watching him. I had told myself that I was going to fess up. I was going to tell him how much he meant to me. But I couldn’t. That would just make things too complicated. Besides, Zahir was starting to fade away. People were mocking him for his criminal father, and his mother was barely scraping everything together. 

“What you mean?” He whispered, limping towards me. There was a cloth bandage around his knee. And I had no idea why. I may have been able to find out, but there was a reason Zahir wasn’t telling me, and I was too afraid to ask.

“Boarding school, in Dubai.” I cried, squeezing his thumb. Any other day, I probably would’ve blushed just touching him, but suddenly his hands felt familiar. They felt like my best friend’s hands.

“Dubai? That’s forever away.” He mumbled, looking at his shoes. I nodded, sniffling. “You'll be living with the Burj Khalifa. It’s not all bad.” He slowly assured, stroking my arm. I looked at him bug-eyed.

“What? No. I don’t want the Burj Khalifa. I want you. I want to stay here with you!” I cried. He shook his head, staring down at the ground so I wouldn’t see his glistening eyes.

“I know. But this was going to happen someday.” Even though he had been limping, he gingerly took my arm and led me up to the roof so we could stare out at the Persian Moon. I was angry and sad all at once, balling up my hands into fists, pounding my head against the solid cement, squeezing my eyes tight.

“I… hate… it.” I choked out between sobs, clinging to his face. Zahir didn’t say a word. He simply squeezed my shoulder. All the other boys at school had begun to smell like cologne, their scents giving me headaches and I began to worry that Zahir would change, too, but he smelled the same as ever. Face powder, wax candles, and his mother’s famous stew.

“Me too.” He sighed. “But I’ll write to you. And it won’t be forever.” He assured, even though his voice was strained. The tears on his cheeks slid down his face. We both knew the truth. This was the end. We would have to move on. The two of us just sat there, watching the moon, our hearts seeping into our stomachs. Finally, when just a sliver of sunlight started to send the moon back down into the horizon, Zahir nudged me in the side.

“Ezra? Are you awake? We have to go. Your parents will be missing you.” He started to shake me, but I hadn’t slept at all. There were dark circles under my puffy, crying eyes.

“No, I’m awake.” I looked into his tired face and found the same dark circles. He hadn’t slept, either. I took a deep breath. Now was a good time to just say ‘I love you’. There were no expectations hanging above us. No parents. Nothing. Just the Persian Moon. And I almost said it, really, but the words wouldn’t make their way out of my stuck throat. Besides, as soon as we hobbled down the stairs, he put a shaky hand on the railing and sat down on the last step, breathing hard, his eyes closed.

“Zahir? Are you okay?” Red started to seep out of his bandage.

“Yeah, I wasn’t supposed to go up the stairs.” 

“Oh.” I put a ginger finger on his knee, wondering what was wrong.

“They attacked me.” He blurted out.

“What?”

“Some idiots at school. After what my dad did… things got a bit out of hand. Don’t tell my mom, though. Y’know… she worries.” I felt my face grow hot as I started to nod a little too fast.

“Oh.” With no warning, I reached over his shoulder and pressed my lips into his cheeks. It felt good, for a split second. Until I opened my eyes.

“Uh.” His face turned a vibrant red and I felt regret wash over me.

“Uh, sorry.” I forced myself off the steps and started to run as fast as my legs could take me, sobbing in my hands, not daring to look back. I never saw Zahir again. At least, that’s what I think.

“Thanks, cuz.” Ali gulped down his glass before offering the other one to Amir, who was still chewing when he took a drink. Gross. Soon, people were pushing me towards the cake table, singing, about to make my ears bleed. The cake towered up high above me, more beautiful than any wedding cake. Mama stood off to the side, shooting me a dark look, urging me to play along. So I picked the knife up.

“Happy Birthday to you…Happy Birthday to you… Happy BIRTHDAY Dear Ezra. Happy Birthday to you!” My legs started to shake as everyone watched, waiting for me to laugh like I did in the papers, with the beautiful white teeth. That’s what they saw. The beautiful girl, laughing all day, saying hello to all the big shots. And here I was. Nothing like they wanted me to be. Wishing to be in my room, breathing in the scent of romance novels, just wishing with all my heart to see the boy of my dreams. Spending every free moment, propped up on my sheets, thinking about him. I didn’t want to party with them. I wanted to be free. Grudgingly I sliced through the cake, disgusting green crumbs floating out from under the knife. Mocha tea. The latest trend. Well, looks like I’m not having any cake tonight. My tongue started to sour, just thinking about the flavor. 

“Thank you, everybody.” I said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. I was still thinking about that kiss on Zahir’s cheek. How I just wanted him. But no one cared.

As soon as I forced the cake into Mama’s mouth, the cake table started to shake. Only a bit, at first, but before anyone could even say a ‘Wha…’, it broke in half, sending cake flying everywhere, icing sticking to my hair, face, and dress. Two dark heads stood in the middle of the chaos. Twins. I started to laugh, scooping up balls of dessert, throwing it at the heads. One of them fell over, laughing almost louder than I was.

“FOOD FIGHT!” The three of us screamed, wading through the mess, flinging whatever we could at each other. I slid near them, along the cement, throwing whatever I could find. The three of us started to chuckle endlessly. That is, until my mom reared her head.

“Ezra.” She huffed, painfully grabbing me by the shoulder. Reality struck.

“Mama, oh, I’m so sorry.” Her face was red, piqued and terrified. People had pulled out their phones.

“Go change. Now.” She writhed her hands. “Get a good dress. Please, we have to fix this now, or our image will be ruined.” Cake bordered the hem of her skirt, but that wasn’t her worry. She was worried about me failing. And I was done with it.

“Please, Mama, I don’t want to do this anymore.” I started to whimper. “Please, I never asked to be put on display. I just want my family back. I just want my love back. Mama, please, tell them I’m done.” I begged, kneading my fingers, gesturing to the crowd. My mother’s face froze.

“After every little thing we did for you…” She looked down, pained, before staring into my eyes, with a look of fire. “Get on the dress and come back down, or I’ll call security to fetch you, Ezra. You cannot do this. Not now.” She turned away, leaving me all alone. My knees were weak, and for a second, I almost sat down. But I didn’t. 

No. 

I’m not coming back. 

Running up the stairs, I knew exactly what I was going to do. Throwing on a pair of jeans ripped at the knee and a green shirt, I hopped out of the back entrance, where only a few party stragglers were hanging out. Every year, there was a boy waiting outside the gate of the hall, with a skateboard in one hand. And every year, I hoped it was him. Please let it be Zahir. I sprinted through the gates before the guards could stop me, feeling my eyes fill up with tears, turning down the avenue, looking out into the empty street. No. Nonono. No one was there. It was a ghost down. I fell to my knees, squeezing my freezing body, sobbing. I had failed my Mama. I had failed my family. And I had failed him. I just cried.

Until a hand wrapped around my shoulder.

“Ezra?” I turned my blotchy eyes around, nearly falling backwards. It was him. Zahir. His hair was messy, and there was a scar on his jaw, but it was him. He had changed so much. But inside, he was the same. I could feel myself getting to my feet, reaching my arm out to touch his face, holding his hands. They felt… like they always did.

“Zahir.” I breathed, wrapping my arms around him.

“Happy birthday.” He said, smiling.

“It is a happy birthday.” I agreed. My eyes started to twinkle. Yes. He put down his skateboard, letting it slide ahead of us, before taking my elbow and leading me ahead.

 “Why didn’t you ever come in? Knock on the door?” I cried, still touching his face. He shook his head.

“I tried, but I was never let in. So I just gave up.” He didn’t sound mad, or upset. Not at all. Actually, he sounded a kilogram lighter, tucking a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. “Anyway, I missed you, y’know?” I started to nod.

“Yeah, me too. Did your knee heal?” I asked, even though I knew how stupid it was coming out.

“My knee?” He scratched the back of my head. “Oh, yeah, of course it did, dummy.” Dummy. I may have felt the space between us, but Zahir had left off just where we did. “But my cheek sure didn’t.”

“Your cheek?” My face started to burn.

“Yeah.” I could feel the weight load of the party behind us. My mom. Everyone waiting for me to come in, smiling. And I sighed. That wasn’t who I was. I was the girl, sitting on my bed, reading a romance novel. So I leaned up and pecked the side of his face, blushing as hard as I ever had. He chuckled, taking my hand.

“So, do you have to go back?” He asked softly. I hesitated, before shaking my head.

“Not now.”

“Then do you want to take a stroll?” I shuddered, but not from the cold.

“Mhm.” We started to silently shuffle our feet down the road, trying to ignore the lights and music coming from my house. I watched Zahir, muttering under his breath, angry and upset about something. Something I knew he would tell me. One day. He led me up to the roof, through the steps where we had sat as children. His mother, now frail, embraced me, as she fell into her couch. The room was bare and poor, but I just smiled. It felt like home. Kissing his mother’s cheek, Zahir promised we’d be back in a few minutes, wrapped a coat around me and led me up to the roof again. We were silent, watching the Persian moon.

I could picture, one day, kissing his warm lips. I could picture, one day, holding his smooth hand. I could picture, one day, letting him stroke my hair. But perhaps, today was that day.