haunted

chapter 6: sweet disposition

Fatin doesn't know how to comfort people, not really. She's been on her own for so long that she's forgotten how it's supposed to work. With her family, it's simple enough. Hugs for Kemar, who's always been a little sensitive. Bribes for Ahmad, who's a lot more conniving than he lets on. Her dad is pretty laid-back, but on his off days, a joke will get his mind off whatever it is that has him irritated. Her mom, on the other hand, is an iron wall. Fatin's never seen her cry, not even at her nani's funeral last year.

But now she's sitting across from Leah, who's looking at her like she holds her heart in her hands.

And in a way, she does. Fatin had taken hold of Leah's hands instinctively. Whenever her own hands hurt from playing for hours on end, she runs them under ice cold water until the sharp ache recedes into something duller, easier to bear.

(Her mom used to sit her down in the living room and refuse to let Fatin go to sleep without applying menthol cream after rehearsals. They talked about anything and everything in those early days, back when Fatin looked forward to playing in front of a crowd. Planning family vacations, scheduling their next spa day, discussing what to do for Kemar's birthday...

But that was before.)

In the absence of words, Fatin rubs soothing circles around Leah's knuckles. She tries to remember the patterns her mom had first traced years ago, and does her best to replicate them now. It seems to work because eventually, Leah's quick, unsteady breaths even out.

Fatin taps Leah's knuckles twice before letting go. Leah glances at the door, and then at her. The question goes unspoken but it's obvious: Are you leaving?

Fatin's quick to reassure Leah, placing a hand on her knee. Not a chance.

Leah nods, but retreats into herself anyway. Her gaze drops and she starts twisting her wristwatch, needing something to keep herself occupied. In response, Fatin moves swiftly to the door to let Gideon inside. He makes a beeline for Leah, startling her by jumping onto the bed. Fatin only leaves the room once she sees Leah relax against Gideon, holding him close as he curls into her side.

Fatin makes her way downstairs as quietly as she can. She doesn't run into anyone on her way to the kitchen, where she fills a glass of water and stuffs a couple of tissues into her pocket for good measure. She's so focused on where she's going that she doesn't notice the end table until it's too late.

Fatin's foot catches on one of the legs, water sloshing over the rim of the cup as she scrambles to steady the table before it tips over. One of the picture frames teeters over the edge and falls to the floor. "Shit," she hisses under her breath. Fatin picks it up, flipping it over to see the photo.

It's of Leah and another girl wearing swimsuits, the background of a sunny beach day spread out behind them. They look young, maybe around ten or so. Leah's smiling wider than Fatin's ever seen her, both arms wrapped tight around the mystery girl's arm.

"Fatin, do you need something?"

Fatin jolts, straightening her posture immediately. She looks up to see Maryann standing across from her, and reflexively takes a step back. Was everyone in this family freakishly silent? "Oh no, I'm alright. Thanks."

Maryann quirks an eyebrow, glancing at the wet spot on the rug. "Not even a refill?"

Fatin glances at the now empty glass in her hand. "Ah."

Maryann holds out a hand expectantly, and Fatin sheepishly hands over the glass. "Thanks."

"Of course." Maryann smiles. "Don't hesitate to ask if there's anything else you need."