Pistachio

An Understanding

The Jazz club I took us to was one of the places I liked to go to when I wanted to disappear. It was dark, cheap and the music was good.

"How many?" asked the host. I had seen him here before. I think he played the saxophone. He took us to a corner booth. "What can I get you?"

"I'll have a rusty nail." I said. Farad raised his eyebrows.

"You have the taste of an old man." He huffed

"I'll take a Bellini." The waiter nodded.

"You have the taste of a teenage girl." I scoffed. We sat and listened to the music until our drinks arrived. It wasn't until we were done with our first drinks and ordered more that either of us dared to speak.

"So, what have you been up to for the past ten years." Farad said like he was asking about the weather.

"You know finished high school and then college got a job got fired got another job and now you are caught up?"

"You got fired?" He laughed. The drinks arrived and handed me mine off the waiter's tray. "I would have loved to see that. I bet they deserved it."

"They did." I said and I couldn't help but enjoy that I didn't have to explain myself to him he just knew like he always did. "What about you Farad?"

"Pretty much the same except war, terrorists, and my dad died. Now you're caught up." I saw the sadness and anger in his amber eyes. I reached for his hand, and he pulled back.

"I'm sorry Farad."

"I know." He drank the rest of Bellini and ordered another one. Then another and then another. After Farad was sufficiently drunk as he put it, I helped him walk home. We got to the house, and I walked him upstairs to his room. It looked exactly the same as I remember it. The navy-blue bedspread. The eggshell walls with old band posters and a pile of books he was always meaning to read. I helped him sit on the bed and took his shoes off for him.

"Jacket off or on?" I asked.

"Off, please." He swayed as he looked at me. "I didn't think it would hurt so bad." He wrapped his arms around me and burrowed his head into my stomach.

"I know." I held him until he let go.

"Will you stay?" I nodded. I started to walk out the door. "Like we used to." He patted the other side of the bed. I took off my shoes and fell on the bed. I heard his breath deepen and I thought he was already asleep. "Good night, Pistachio."

--

I awoke to find the sun shining in the bedroom window. I turned to see Farad still asleep beside me. I made my way to the kitchen Farad would need something solid when he woke up if he was going to recover from last night. I looked in the fridge and found to my surprise nothing. It wasn't even on. I leaned my head against the cool metal. The grocery store was nearby. I didn't think a bagel and coffee would do much. Once I got back from the grocery store, I started cooking. I made myself an omelet with date syrup and tahini and then for Farad I made his favorite omelet with fried cheese and dill. I started the chai on the stove and waited. Whenever Farad smelled the cardamon it usually woke him up. About five minutes later I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He looked rough, his dark hair was standing on top of his head and his crumpled clothes were still the ones from last night.

"Good morning." I said. He moaned in acknowledgement and then sat at the kitchen table where his omelet was waiting for him. I sat a basket of lavash in front of him and his chai.