Baggage Claim

Therapy

Chapter Seven: Therapy

“So I am guessing that scowl on your face has nothing to do with breakfast?” Hana asked, laughing as Layla grimaced at her plate.

Layla stabbed the runny eggs she had been chasing around her plate for ten minutes and held up her fork for Hana, the eggs sliding down the fork as soon as the prongs came up. “At least now I know how you stay so thin, I would never eat either if I cooked like you.”

Hana’s mouth dropped open in mock anger, her hands crossing to hold her chest as if Layla’s words had been a fatal jab. “You hurt my feelings with that one you ungrateful little imp. I happen to have worked very hard on those eggs especially for you.” Hana winked even as her lips curled into a pout. “I’m still getting the hang of it, give me a little time and I’ll be making you gourmet food soon.”

“I may starve before you get the hang of it.” Layla picked up a piece on burnt toast in between two fingers; rotating it to show Hana the even charcoal appearance.

“Well I haven’t had anyone to cook for till now, your madarbozorg never let me in the kitchen, it was always your mother and the rest of the girls but I was sent to study.” Hana crossed her arms.

“I can see why grandma wouldn’t let you in the kitchen.” Layla held up the plate of food to emphasize her point, the food quickly shifting it’s way towards the bottom of the plate.

“Yes, well I studied, and maintain my figure, as you sarcastically pointed out.”

“Well you know what they say; the quickest way to a man’s heart is through the stomach.” Layla laughed at her own quip, oblivious to the awkward silence her words had created.

Hana’s easy smile had disappeared and she slowly rotated her mug of coffee, her eyes intent on staring into the dark liquid.

Layla wiped her hands on her napkin, wondering what she had said wrong when suddenly it hit her. Her aunt gazed just briefly at her naked left hand and suddenly the shame of Layla’s words flushed red across her face.

“I am so sorry Hana, I wasn’t trying to say that…”

“It’s okay, I know Layla, you don’t have to apologize…”

“No, I’m serious, I haven’t really joked with anyone in a long time and I got caught up in the moment, I wasn’t even trying to …”

“I’m not married, it’s okay Layla, it’s not a secret. My sisters are all happily following the path and I just chose a different one, we don’t have to act like it’s some kind of taboo subject.”

A drop of coffee escaped the vortex Hana had created in her mug, the timing increasing with each shrug she managed as she spoke.

Layla never felt the pressure that Hana was given, her mother’s attention waning after the death of Aman, but she knew even as a child that her aunt was one sibling of many with certain expectations. Hana was allowed certain leeway from the traditions being as she had been the last and only one born in the United States, but Layla’s grandmother stubbornly held on to her visions for her youngest child. Her pride in her daughter’s accomplishments eclipsed her disappointment that it did not lead to a good match before she passed.

Layla knew how a mother’s disappointment could embed itself inside you, creating a barrier that you constantly threw yourself against in frustration, hurting yourself mentally over and over again.

“Hana, I’m sorry.”

Hana’s mug stopped and the liquid inside quickly returned to its former calm demeanor. “Stop apologizing to me, you’ll have to do plenty of that in…” Hana stopped and looked up at the clock hands, the hour hand chasing the minute hand to eight am, “Four hours. My guess is the therapist is not your biggest fan from what you’ve told me.”