Page 106 of Give Me a Shot

“I think it’s better to not mention her name,” Khalil said to Rachid as he accepted the bowl of Berber salad from Mo.

“Whose name?” Amir asked, walking in from the living room. Mo wanted to let the figs and burrata in his hands fall to the ground. He was not going to make it if everyone was asking questions.

“Don’t worry about it,” Khalil said.

Amir scratched at his disheveled hair. Mo assumed he’d been somewhere asleep as he always was when Mo came by during Amir’s visits from college.

“Just wake up?” Mo asked gruffly. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his youngest brother. He just had trouble with people who lived their lives imitating sloths.

Amir rolled his eyes.

“Not this again,” he said. “I’m a human being; I need sleep. We can’t all be Mr. Industrious.” He reached across the kitchen island. “Give me the mustard and stuff.”

Mo obliged, and Amir shuffled out of the room, yawning. Mo was contemplating whether he should take the cans of soft drinks out, but he’d noticed a cooler outside. Knowing his dad, it was already filled to the brim. He grabbed a large bowl of tzatziki and a similar one of hummus and nudged the fridge closed with his elbow. Khalil was right behind the door.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I guess something went wrong?”

Mo squinted at him.

“I um…I’ll take the extra napkins outside,” Rachid said, throwing a wary glance at Mo. He escaped the kitchen quickly as Khalil got even closer to Mo.

“What happened?” he asked.

Mo frowned.

“Don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered.

“Maybe I can help?” Khalil asked.

Mo frowned and kept his mouth shut. Khalil sighed.

“I’m here, okay?” he said.

“K.” Mo walked around the island to get outside and away from Khalil. He focused on the cold seeping into his hands from the bowls so he could get away from the prickly feeling in his heart.

—

Two hours later, with all the serving dishes and platters of meat picked clean, Mo tapped his sunglasses back into position to avoid crossing his arms again. He knew he’d brought the atmosphere down a little by failing to participate in the laughing and joking, but he couldn’t do it. The only thing prompting a little bit of levity for him was the powdered sugar dusting Maddie’s lips and cheeks from the phalanx of gazelle horns she’d devoured. He’d had the instinct to tell her to slow down, but it was his dad’s birthday; she could enjoy herself. He poked at his baghrir again. But they had vanilla in them, and he could not bring himself to force them down. Nothing had tasted good since he and Jess had broken up, but anything with vanilla was like swallowing ash. He crossed his arms again. His mom had disappeared into the kitchen, and Mo wondered if he should go help her, then she appeared with a small round cake, a lit candle in the center.

“Happy birthday to you…” she began singing. Everyone else joined in with energy, and Mo pushed himself to do the same. His mom carefully deposited the plate in front of his dad, who caught her hand and pulled her toward him to kiss her on the cheek. Mo looked away.

“Clafoutis! My favorite,” his dad said, blowing out the candle. “But…” He looked at Maddie. “There’s no way I can enjoy it without sharing some with my granddaughter.”

“Maybe you’ll enjoy it with another grandchild soon,” Khalil said. The table went silent as all eyes shifted to him.

“Soon,soon?” their mom asked. Khalil shrugged.

“In a little less than seven months,” he said, grinning.

The table erupted. Their mom shot around it to hug Vanessa as their dad shoved his chair back and did the same. Karim clapped his hand on Khalil’s shoulder to pull him in for a hug. Even Amir clapped his hands and shouted his congratulations.

“Daddy?” Maddie’s voice was soft but urgent as she scooted close enough to whisper to him. “Does Uncle Khalil mean…is Vanessapregnant?”

“Yes, sugar plum,” he said to her.

“I’m going to have a cousin?” she asked, her face lighting up. He nodded.

“You are,” he said. She let out a small shriek and pushed her chair back to go hug Khalil and Vanessa. Mo’s arms were still crossed. He couldn’t undo them. Naturally, he was happy about the announcement. Small details he hadn’t fully processed suddenly made sense—Vanessa staying on the couch sipping her pop, the fact that he’d seen her walk out to the gazebo deep in the backyard, giving the grill a wide berth. She’d kept her plate relatively empty when everyone else was stuffing themselves. As she was still in the first trimester, she was probably nauseated out of her mind.

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