Page 42 of When the Lights Come On
I’m finally on the brink of those dreams coming true, and all I can do is wonder how it would feel to throw them all away—all the contracts and record deals, the first class flights to far-off places and the sight of my name in lights—so I can sign on to co-own an outdated recording studio in Montreal.
“There’s...”
There’s something wrong.
I can’t get the words out to her. My voice fades, but in my head, I’m shouting.
It all feels so wrong that sometimes I can’t even breathe.
“There’s...There’s no problem.”
She stays quiet for a second. “Youssef, you know you can tell me anything.”
I force myself to swallow and change the subject.
“Thanks, Mom. I know. I’m just, uh, distracted, I guess. Something really crazy happened yesterday. Do you remember Paige, that girl I used to hang out with in high school?”
“The one who broke your heart?” she asks without missing a beat.
“Mom! She didn’t break my heart.”
“Yes. Yes, she did. You spent that whole summer locked up in your bedroom. You were so sad about her breaking up with you, I was almost scared you’d flunk out of your first semester at McGill.”
“Nobody broke up with anybody. We weren’t dating.”
Not officially, at least, and she made it clear that’s not what she wanted when I wrote her a letter to ask her if we could be.
“Semantics,” my mom replies.
“Anyway. We bumped into each other last weekend and were supposed to hang out last night, but she got hit by a car, and—”
“Wait,what?”
“She’s fine,” I continue. “Well, not fine. She got pretty messed up from the fall. I went with her to the hospital. We only got back this morning, and she slept most of the day. She’s sleeping now, actually, and—”
“You’re still with her?”
“Yeah.” A beat passes, and I swallow down the lump that rises in my throat. “Yeah, I am.”
The silence that follows is charged with understanding.
“You took care of her.”
“She needed someone.”
She needed me.
“She’s gonna be in pretty rough shape for the next few days,” I explain, “and her roommate is away. She said her parents can’t come, and I guess she doesn’t have many close friends here. She won’t admit it to me, but she needs someone to help her. I mean, I left for like twenty minutes and she almost dislocated her shoulder all over again trying to get a glass of water. I should stay, right? I should look after her. Is that bad? Am I, like, not respecting consent by pushing her on it? She’s being really fucki—I mean, really freaking stubborn about it. I just don’t want her to get hurt again, Mom.”
“Oh, Youssef. You remind me of your father so much.” She chuckles in that lighthearted way she only does when she’s talking to or about my dad. “He had to fight me before I let him help me with anything, especially in the early days back during my placement in Cairo. It took me a long time to realize that being part of a team doesn’t mean you lose your independence.”
“Oh. That’s, um, cool?”
She sips her coffee again. “But back to your question. Has Paige told you to get out of her house and leave her alone?”
I think for a second. “Not precisely, no. She’s mostly just grumpy that she can’t do things and even grumpier when I do them for her.”
“Well, if she does tell you to leave, you’ll have to listen. It might be hard to do, and it might be very stupid on her part, but that’s her choice. Otherwise, I think it’s a very admirable thing for you to look after someone in need, especially when she doesn’t seem to have anyone else. You don’t need to feel obligated, though. If she’s going to be rude to you, you don’t need to put up with it.”
