Page 38 of Sapphire Spring

“Of course, it did.” She smiled bitterly. “You have alwaysbeen absolutely and terribly perfect.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s why the kids at school called me Prancer.Because they thought I was perfect. Come on.”

“Fuck those kids. I’m talking about your family, the peoplethat matter.”

“So am I. It took all the strength I had in the world tocome out to her, and she just stopped trying to marry me off to a woman lastyear.”

Pari shrugged. “Bah. Consider yourself lucky you’re notconstantly being suffocated by the marriage traditions of our Persian mother.”

“I don’t.” His abrupt tone clearly startled her. She studiedhim as if waiting for another little eruption. “I don’t feel lucky that mymother has never once asked me if I’m even dating anyone.”

“But that’s just it, Naser. You don’t tell her when you are.Because you’re afraid if you do, you’ll stop being the favorite. With her, youbeinggay, it’s all abstract. Something she knows but neversees. Because you never show her what it looks like.Soyou keep your head down, and the two of you go after me because I’m the perfecttarget. Big, loud Pari with her big dreams and her messy, complicated business.I bring you closer together. Just admit it already.”

“What happened with the Bliss Network? Where was their logolast night?”

Pari shrugged and looked away before he could see the flashof pain in her eyes. “Same story. I was too bold. Too Persian. Too me.”

Naser reached into his pocket for his sunglasses and slidthem on. He tried to be casual about it, but he was in a rush to hide whatever emotionhis eyes might betray. His sister had lost her only distributor, her onlymarketing platform outside her own social media channels, and that very morninghe’d callously blown off a potential investment offer from a guy who lived in amultimillion-dollar beach house and felt Catholic-level guilt whenever he heardthe last name Kazemi.

What had he done?

Was it her fault for not telling him or his fault for notseeing it earlier?

Maybe a little of both.

Pari finally broke the tense silence. “I’m tired, Naser.”

“Of what?” He hoped she didn’t mean him.

“Of this business. I’m tired of fighting day in and day outfor an inch of ground only to lose five the next day. I’m tired of scrollingthrough Instagram and seeing famous designers post inspirational memes aboutstaying true to yourself and your vision, only to be slapped back as soon asI’m true to mine. I’m tired of the pats on the heads from Beverly HillsPersians who thank me for trying to preserve our culture but won’t pony up adime to help meactually doit.

“Ever since Bliss dropped me, I’ve been thinking of what itwould be like to have a normal life. Maybe a pension. A union. Some HRpersonI can go to when a man puts his hands on me after aninvestor dinner. Maybe move back here to the OC. Marry a nice Persian doctor.Be like you and Mom. Then I remember the contempt you both have for me, and itfeels like I have no options at all.”

Naser rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me!” she barked.

“You do the negative self-talk, Pari. I’ll handle my eyes,okay?”

“See? Contempt!”

“Disagreement is not contempt, and concern is not alackof love. It’s the opposite. And if you think anything other than Maman and Ilove you, it’s the mimosa talking.”

Pari drank more of it as if she needed to be sure.

Naser forced himself to say it before he could think ittwice. “No promises, but I might be able to put something together for you.”

Pari shook her head. “Uhuh. Noway. I’m not taking your money, Naser. There’re too many things you don’tunderstand about my business.”

“It won’t be my money.”

“Don’t even think about asking Maman. She’s already saidshe’ll never invest.”

“Not her, either.”

“Then who?”

“Like I said, no promises. What kind of timeframe are youlooking at before…” He couldn’t finish this sentence with the wordsyou gobroke.

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