They walked together, side by side. Sometimes their fingers brushed. Sometimes their shoulders bumped. Every time they touched; Kiara pushed herself away putting more space between them. But no matter how out of reach she was, Emre was pulled towards her closing the gap between them.
"I...I heard...," she said weakly, "about your mom. I'm sorry."
Emre shrugged and looked at his feet. Not sure how to feel about the pang of sadness in his chest every time he hears those words. "Thanks," he says simply instead.
"How's...how the bakery?"
"It's going good. My sisters have taken over it," he smiled softly at her. She had shrugged on a light camel coloured trench coat over her brightly printed kurta before leaving the apartment and she wrapped it tighter around her body. "My dad's enjoying his retirement. Well, as much of it as he can anyways," he frowned suddenly.
"How about you? How about your parents?"
"They're fine...still together...still dysfunctional," she chuckled bitterly, tucking her hair behind her ears. She fingered her earing, twisting a few times it before letting her hand drop.
"You removed the wrist brace..."
"Yeah...yeah I did..."
"Is...is something wrong?"
"Oh no...no...its just, my wrists hurts sometimes when I'm doing normal stuff. Something about the angle and stuff, so I wear it because of that..."
"Did you ever learn to play the saxophone?" he blurted suddenly.
"You remember!"
"Well...yeah....so, did you?"
"I tried and suck. But I am still learning. One of my colleagues is teaching me. He gets a good laugh every time I mess up."
"He a good teacher?"
"Yeah, he's alright. He's a better friend though," she smiles wistfully, looking ahead as the rounded the corner from her apartment complex. She could hear the mixed sounds of laughter, music, spirited conversations, children laughing and crying spilling out from the apartments towering around them. It was way past dinner time, and everyone was getting ready for the weekend.
"That's...that's great..." she heard the hesitancy in his voice.
"You published a book," she heard herself say and winced. It felt worse than being strangers, the way they spoke to each other. Tiptoeing around the things they wanted to ask each other. They things they wanted to tell each other.
"Yeah...Yeah I did..."
"I didn't know that was part of your dreams, rockstar. And by the way, didn't I say that you would be a total rockstar?"
"Yeah, you did. You were the only one who did."
"That can't be true. You were always so talented," she brushed off the warmth that flared in her chest at his words.
"But no one believed in me the way you did," was his quiet response and Kiara had to look away, reminding herself silently to breathe.
They continued in silence turning another corner, and the wind picked up slowly. Kiara smiled to herself as her trench and kurta flapped around her knees.
"Did you know that Mrs. Mui's son was in the music business?" Emre asked suddenly. She didn't need to look at him to know that he was staring at her. There it was; that same weight in his gaze as it settled on her cheek, her lips, the curve of her neck, and her wavy black hair.
"What? No. No, I didn't. I mean I knew she sang Chinese Opera but nothing about her kids. Why?" she laughed, and continued with a short breathless laugh, "She had the most spectacular voice. She would warm up her vocals with her windows and doors open in the summers and I loved it. I didn't understand it, but it was just magical."
"That's kinda how we got our shot," Emre said quietly after a long pause.
"Wait, what? Really? How?"
"He was there when she came to give me the Gibson. And he stayed for drinks."
"Oh my God, that's amazing. I honestly didn't know."
"The guys are dying to say thank you," he said with a small smile of her own.
"The guys? Really? I didn't...I didn't think they would even remember me..." she scrunched up her brows.
"They...they believe you're our good luck charm Kiara."
"What?! No, they don't!"
"They really fucking do..."
"What? That's insane!"
"Kiara...what happened with Ahad?"
Her smile faltered. "So, we're finally getting to the difficult questions huh?
"Yeah...play 20 questions with me?" he asked lowly, and she felt like that almost 17-year-old girl again, in a dim subway carriage looking into bright pale green eyes that burned through her. But when she looked at him, all she could see were the shadows that he hid behind.
"What happened with Ahad? The truth...please?"
"He was jealous. Of you. He had this idea that we had some grand affair, you and I. And it got bigger and bigger and finally consumed him."
"Did...Did he ever get...physical?" he heard him ask cautiously and she wanted to smile wanly at his concern. It was exhausting, the act of comforting others. Of making sure that they believed that she was okay. That whatever she went through, no matter how damaging and scarring it was to her, she would be the one comforting others first.
"No...Not until today...it was small snide remarks. Sarcastic comments here and there. Being hurtful on purpose. Breaking things like my phone..."
She'd had the radio on to a random French channel that played a mix of English and French music as she cleaned up after lunch with Ahad. It was one of the best ways to learn the language her French teacher told her. 'Immerse yourself in the language, Kiara' and that was what she tried to do listening to as much French she could on the radio and television. She squealed in happiness, surprising Ahad who was on the couch, when she heard the presenter say the name 'Chasing Lightning' and the title of the song in his thick French accent. She had run to pick up her phone to check if it was really Emre's band when her phone was snatched out of her hand.
"What are you doing?" Ahad sneered ominously.
"I...I am checking if it's the same band...," she said blinking rapidly up at Ahad, suddenly terrified of the dark look in his eyes.
"So, what if it is?" he asked darkly.
"I...I...am happy. I am happy for them...," she said her throat dry, finally noticing that Ahad was furious.
"For them? Or for him?"
"For...For them. For all...all of them..."
"Don't fucking lie, Kiara," Ahad screamed; hurling her phone through the air, the sound of the smash as it hit the wall loud and jarring, making her jump. He stared down at her, red faced veins throbbing on his forehead, for a few minutes that had felt like hours to her with her heart pounding in her ears before he stormed out of the apartment. Leaving a terrified Kiara behind. He'd come back to see her in the evening, remorseful and apologetic with a replacement phone in hand. And she'd never looked the band up again.
"The wedding. Tell me about the wedding," His gravelly voice jarred her from her memories.
"There's nothing to tell. It got called off."
"Why?"
"...he got my colleague pregnant while we were planning the wedding last year."
"What? What the fuck?"
She took a fortifying breath before she spoke, "They were seeing each other for years and she fell pregnant..."
"What...What did your dad say about all this?"
"I think he was relieved. It felt like he was looking for a way out and it fell into his lap. Mama on the other hand insisted on the wedding going on. Like I said earlier, still dysfunctional," she chuckled bitterly while rolling her eyes. The building that housed her apartment unit came back into view.
"And after...after all that...you babysit their kid? Why Kiara?"
"It's not his fault. There is nowhere in this story where Aakif is the villain. He's just a child."
"How are you okay with all this? How are you okay with whatever that happened today?"
"I'm not...," she said looking down at her feet as they continued to move forward. "But I have people who love me and are scared for me. If I fall apart, they won't know what to do...."
"When...when will you ever be selfish?" Emre asked, sounding pained.
"I am a bit now. Really, I am. Things that I want for myself, things that I do for myself. But I don't ever want to stop caring and loving the way I do, though. With all my heart. They deserve it."
"What about you? What do you deserve?"
"...Emre...," Kiara swallowed, not wanting to answer questions she didn't have the answers to. She walked towards her apartment with quicker steps, leaving Emre trailing behind her.
"Why are you such a fucking pushover? Why did you allow Ahad to fucking walk all over you?" His voice rose in anger as he ground out each word.
"You mean to say why am I allowing you to talk to me like this?" She whipped around in anger suddenly, right in front of the entrance to her building. She knew her face was red; she could feel the heat of anger radiating of her entire body.
"I didn't mean it like that Kiara..." He said, clearly taken aback by her words. "But I am so, so god damn angry."
"Then what do you mean? Because allowing you to shout at me like I am some kind of child, is me being a pushover isn't it?" she said breathless, her heart pounding and the sound of her blood roaring in her ears. Kiara spun around and fished out her keys from her pocket. With trembling fingers, she unlocked the entrance door and allowed it to slam behind her. Uncaring if he followed her in or not.
"Kiara...," his voice rang behind her as she sped up the stairs. She huffed as she forced herself to move faster.
"I'm sorry...Kiara...," she heard him say behind her, but she refused to stop. She could hear his feet pounding against the stairs. When she finally reached her door, Emre grabbed her elbow and twirled her to face him, but it was a knee jerk reaction for her to wrench out of his grasp in fear. Kiara closed her eyes as she rested her head against the door, her hand outstretched between her and Emre. A warning not to get too close.
"I'm sorry Kiara. I'm so, so sorry," he'd paled behind his sunglasses. "I didn't mean it like that...I was...I am angry...," he swiped the sunglasses off his face and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Kiara could see the bags underneath his eyes but she forced herself not to care. The sound of her pants loud in the silence between them.
"You're still wearing it," he finally said quietly. His eyes riveted on her wrist where the tiny evil eye winked under the fluorescent lights.
"You don't get to mean anything Emre...," Kiara squeezed her eyes shut ignoring his statement, her voice trembling as her hand dropped to her side. "This is the first time we've spoken in five years. Five years, Emre," Kiara said her voice catching, and she squeezed back her tears. "You don't get to be angry. You don't get to act like you care. You don't get to act like you are my friend because you aren't..." Kiara breathed out harshly.
"You didn't get to ask me your question Kiara...," he said his eyes boring into her. He leaned over her, his hand bracing his weight over her head but was careful not to touch her.
"What...What are you talking about?" She opened her eyes slowly; she could feel her lashes were damp with the tears that she held back.
"20 questions...you haven't asked me your questions..."
"No...I'm not going to Emre because I don't know what we're doing right now..."
"Don't. Don't say that."
"We are not friends. We never really were friends. We never really were anything for that matter," her breath stuttered, and her stomach sank in the reality of their present. "We were just kids, stuck in an in between space. And it was beautiful then, but it's not for us now."
"What if I tell you that I want more than those in between spaces?" he rasped out. Kiara could see the tense lines that framed his body around her.
Kiara squeezed her eyes tightly again, trying to block those brilliantly bright green eyes from boring into her thoughts. Before they found anything and everything that she had safely tucked away on that first flight to Paris.
"What if I don't want more? What if I am happy with just those moments that we had? What if that was enough for me?" she whispered. "What if that was the best that it would've been between us?"
"I don't want it be, Kiara," she heard Emre say. And she felt him move away from her and she finally could breathe easier.
"You are right. We were just kids then, but we aren't now. And this time I have all the fucking means I need, to not give up...," he said determination ringing in his words.
"This is not a game. This is not a challenge. Just let it be...," she almost pleaded.
"It's not Kiara. I am done. I am done staying awake at night wondering what you're doing, where you are, if you're okay. I am done with the guessing games, with the torture of the limitless 'what if's'. I am done painting pictures of you in my mind and after five years, believe me, it's becoming more and more difficult to keep those pictures clear."
"So, whether you want it or not, I'm staying. Even if everything burns between us, even if we're doomed to fail; at the very least, I would know that I tried and after all that destruction if I was given another chance, I would keep on trying Kiara...,"
"There you go, with your words like poetry again..."
"I thought it was only my name?"
"How are you...How do you even remember?"
"That's the problem Kiara. You never gave me chance to tell you that I never forgot."
"I can't do this Emre...Embarrassing as it is for me to admit, but the truth is that I am still a little bit in love with that boy who took me to Times Square at three in the freaking morning. And it terrifies me that even though I am looking at the adult you, I can still see glimpses of that boy in you. My heart can't afford to have this connection with you again to and then to know that it didn't mean as much as it did to you because once you leave you are kissing other girls. And that's not the worst part, the worst part is knowing how you look right before you kiss them. Knowing how your breath deepens. Knowing the crescent shape of your eyelashes. Knowing the flare in your eyes. Knowing the feeling of the warmth of your breath caressing their skin. All that meant something to me, and it still does."
"Who's the poet now, Kiara?" Emre lightly presses his forehead on Kiara's. Her skin now heating up at his gentle touch instead.
"Emre...I...," he shushed her and gently pressed a finger on her lips.
"You trusted me once...and if you need me to beg, I will...but trust me again, please...," he whispered into her hair.
Before Kiara could say anything, she could hear the buzzing of his phone from one of his pockets. She watched in silence as he answered his phone, with short and curt answers. His eyes never leaving her face even for a second. He tucked his phone away with a tired sigh.
"Kiara, I'm going to hug you...okay...?" he warned in a whisper. When she finally nodded dumbly was when he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. She felt herself sink in his heat and his musk. So different and yet so familiar to her memories.
"I need to go," he continued in a soft whisper. "The tour is heading to Dublin, then to Scotland and onwards. Our flight leaves later tonight." His arms tightened around her the moment she tensed. "All this means is I'll be coming to see you whenever I can. And when I can't make it, we'll talk for hours on the phone and FaceTime. And when I say hours, I really mean hours. We have five years of catching up to do, Kiara."
She nodded stiffly in his arms. Emre relaxed his hold around Kiara and took a few steps backwards, a small smile playing on his lips.
"I'll speak to you later, hasretim," he says a gleam in his green eyes.
"I..but I...but you...you don't have my number..."
"I'll speak to you later," he took another step back.
"Later," she croaked as she watched him back away with a wink. He slipped on his sunglasses, adjusted his hat and skipped down the stairs. Kiara jolted when the door gave way behind her and held on to the door frame, and Mila stood there with raised eyebrows.
"So, what's the deal with you and skaterboy?" Mila asked with her eyebrow cocked, a smirk twisting her lips as she held back a smile and Kiara finally cracked a smile at that.