Four, she said.
She heard water running.
I hope Maryam doesn't feel this bad, she said.
She didn't drink all that much that I noticed.
Oh, great, was I the only one?
Well, Brad was putting away quite a bit, and it seemed to me that Pat and Lou were fairly Downstairs, the doorbell rang.
Sami stepped out of the bathroom and sent her a questioning look.
Don't answer it, Ziba told him.
But a moment later Susan called, Mama? Mari -june's here. Ziba said, Oh, God, and fell back on her pillow.
I'll go, Sami said. He set two aspirin on the nightstand, along with a paper cup of water, and left the room. After a pause, Ziba heard his chipper Hi, Mom! and then murmur, murmur normal morning voices that made Ziba feel even worse.
Well, no getting around it; she would have to show herself. She sat up to swallow the aspirin. Then she hauled herself out of bed and went to the closet for her bathrobe.
By the time she arrived downstairs, Maryam was seated at the kitchen table watching Sami fill the kettle. Whether or not Maryam had drunk much champagne, she had the drawn, unhealthy look of someone who had stayed up too late. Her black blazer turned her skin almost yellow, and she wasn't wearing lipstick.
Morning, Mari june! Ziba said. She tried to sound fresh and energetic.
Maryam said, Good morning, Ziba. Then she said, I was just telling Sami that I feel horrible.
Oh, do you really? Me too. I don't know what I could have been This is the worst mistake of my life.
Excuse me? Ziba said.
She looked over at Sami. He was standing to one side of the stove now, waiting for the kettle to heat. Mom didn't mean to say yes, he told her.
Didn't mean ... ?
Maryam said, I was trying to be . . . She let out a little breath of a laugh, although her expression stayed grim. I was trying to be polite, she said.
Polite! Ziba echoed.
Well, what would you have done? If someone put you in a spot like that, asked you in front of everyone? Funny, Maryam said. I've always wondered about those very public proposals. The men who propose on billboards or hire a plane to fly a banner past. What if the women have no wish to get married? But there they are, trapped. On public view, and so what can they say but yes?
Ziba was speechless. After a moment, Sami cleared his throat and said, Well, ah, but it's always been my assumption that those couples have arrived at some understanding beforehand, so that the men feel fairly sure of their answer. Are you saying that you and Dave never discussed the subject?
Never, Maryam said. Then she hesitated. Or never in so many words, at least.
Sami cocked his head.
It's true we have been ... a couple for some time, she said. I admit that he means a great deal to me. And my first reaction yesterday was 'yes'; I won't deny it. But not two minutes later I thought, My Lord, what have I done?
She looked at Ziba when she said this. Instead of responding, Ziba sank onto the chair across from her. She didn't know whether the hollow in her stomach came from her hangover or from dismay.
He is so American, Maryam said, and she hugged herself as if she felt cold. He takes up so much space. He seems to be unable to let a room stay as it is; always he has to alter it, to turn on the fan or raise the thermostat or play a record or open the curtains. He has cluttered my life with cell phones and answering machines and a fancy-shmancy teapot that makes my tea taste like metal.
But, Mari -june, Ziba dared to say. That's not American; it's just ... male. Then she shot a quick glance at Sami, but he was too focused on his mother to take offense.
No, it's American, Maryam said. I can't explain why, but it is. Americans are all larger than life. You think that if you keep company with them you will be larger too, but then you see that they're making you shrink; they're expanding and edging you out. I could feel myself slipping away. I was thinking so for a while now! And then before I could say that, he did this thing in public.
She was speaking in an unusually stilted manner, Ziba noticed, and with more of an accent, perhaps to prove that she herself was not American in the least that she was the opposite of American. And her huddled posture, so unlike her, did make her seem to have shrunk.
All his fuss about our traditions, she said. Our food, our songs, our holidays. As if he's stealing them!
Oh, well, but, Mom, Sami said. That's a good trait, his interest in our culture.
He's taking us over, she said, unhearing. Moving in on us. He's making me feel I don't have my own separate self. What was that sugar ceremony but stealing? Because he borrowed it and then he changed it, switched it about to suit his purposes.
Even though she had had nearly the same thought herself, Ziba said, Oh, Maryam, he just wanted to show he respects our way of doing things. She was suddenly filled with sympathy for him, remembering Dave on his knees and his eager, open face. You can't object to his Americanness and then fault him for trying to act Iranian. It's not logical.
It may not be logical, but it's how I feel, Maryam said.
The kettle was boiling now, and Sami turned to lift it off the stove. Ziba didn't know how he could take this so calmly. She asked Maryam, Couldn't you give it a little more time? Maybe it's just a case of, what do they call it. Wet feet.
I have given it time, Maryam said. Otherwise I would have told him last night. But no, all I said last night was that it was late and I was tired; he should drop me off at my house and I would see him in the morning. And then this morning I came to you two first to explain the situation, because I know everyone will be angry at me. All of you, and I don't blame you. It will cause an awkwardness in your friendship with Brad and Bitsy.
Oh, don't worry about that, Sami said, although Ziba herself was worrying about exactly that. Here they'd been just about to join ranks, become one big happy family! Would the four of them stop being friends now? And what would they tell the girls?
But Sami was saying, If you can't marry him, you can't. No two ways about it.
Thank you, Sami jon, Maryam said.
She looked next at Ziba, but Ziba said nothing.
Then Maryam told them she had to go I want to get this over with, she said and she refused a cup of tea and collected her purse. Goodbye, Susan, she called as she passed the living room. Sami followed, but because he had no shoes on he didn't see her out to her car. He stopped at the front door, with Ziba some distance behind. Drive carefully, he said. Ziba kept quiet. She couldn't fight down her sense of outrage. None of this should have happened, she wanted to say. She wanted to shout it. This was all so unnecessary, and so cruel, and there was no excuse for any part of Maryam's behavior from start to finish.
Maryam was descending the steps, walking toward the street with her purse clutched tight against her. She seemed much smaller than usual. In her black blazer and slim black pants, she was a single, narrow figure, straight-backed and slight and entirely alone.
Jin-Ho's little sister had a pacifier in her mouth about a hundred hours a day. The only time it came out was when she was eating, but she didn't really like to eat so that didn't take very long. On account of her not eating she was itty-bitty, teeny-tiny. She was two and a half years old but Jin-Ho could still lift her up. So Jin-Ho's mother said they would have to get rid of the pacifier. Maybe then Xiu-Mei would take more interest in food.
Except it didn't work. Binky! Binky! Xiu-Mei howled. (That was what she called pacifiers, because that was what Grandma Pat called them.) Jin-Ho's mother said, The binky is all gone, sweetheart, but Xiu-Mei wouldn't hush. She screamed and screamed, and Jin-Ho's mother went upstairs with a headache and closed her bedroom door. Then Jin-Ho's father carried Xiu-Mei around the house and sang her a song called Big Girls Don't Cry, but still she went on screaming. Finally he said a bad word and put her down on the couch not very gently and went into the kitchen. Jin-Ho went too because the screaming hurt her ears. She colored in her workbook while her father un
loaded the dishwasher. He made a lot of noise, enough to drown out Xiu-Mei's noise, and every now and then he would absentmindedly sing another piece of his song. 'Bi-ig girls ... don't ... cry-y-y,' he sang in a high thin girly voice. Usually when Jin-Ho's parents sang it made her crazy because they didn't land on the notes quite right. This time it was okay, though, because he was just clowning. 'Do-on't cry-y,' he sang, and the don't went so low that he had to tuck in his chin to get down there.
Then Xiu-Mei stopped screaming. Jin-Ho's father turned from the dishwasher and gave Jin-Ho a look. It was very, very quiet. He tiptoed back to the living room, and Jin-Ho slid off her chair and tiptoed after him.
Xiu-Mei sat on the couch reading her favorite board book, busily sucking a pacifier she must have found between the cushions.
Because she didn't have just one pacifier; she had dozens. She might have had a thousand. She had about ten in every room, and more in her stroller and more in her crib and more in both the cars so she would never be caught short. Jin-Ho's mother had gathered up handfuls of them earlier in the morning, but no way could she get hold of every single one.
So that afternoon during Xiu-Mei's nap, Jin-Ho's mother announced a new plan. They were going to throw a party. As soon as Xiu-Mei woke they all told her, Guess what, Xiu-Mei! Next Saturday we'll have a huge party and the Binky Fairy will fly in to take away all your binkies and leave you a wonderful present instead. Even Jin-Ho told her that. (Her mother said she should talk it up.) Only six more days till she comes, Xiu-Mei! Xiu-Mei just looked at them and made a winching sound on her pacifier. She seldom said very much, because her mouth was usually full.
What's her present? Jin-Ho asked, but her mother said, Oh, that's a secret, which probably meant she didn't know. Jin-Ho wasn't stupid. If the Binky Fairy could fly, she must be bringing something that mortals couldn't even imagine.
Did the Binky Fairy bring me a present? she asked her mother.
Her mother said, Well, no, actually, because you never used a pacifier. That was so impressive to the Binky Fairy! She really, really admired you for it.
I'd rather she'd brought me a present, Jin-Ho said.
Her mother laughed as if Jin-Ho had made a joke, although she hadn't.
And how does she know when to come? Jin-Ho asked. Well, she's magical, of course.
Then why didn't she come this morning, so you wouldn't need to take away the binkies on your own?
Oh, that was just a ... miscommunication, her mother said. So what if on Saturday you have a miscommunication again and It's going to work out, okay? her mother said. Trust me. Take my word for it.
But if it didn't work out this morning Jin-Ho, her mother said. Enough! We'll send the Fairy a letter. Will that satisfy you?
I think it would be safer, Jin-Ho said.
So her mother got on the computer and printed out a special card showing a stork carrying a baby because she couldn't find a picture of a pacifier. On the inside she wrote in block letters that Jin-Ho could read for herself: SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 2003, AT 3 P. M., PLEASE COME FOR XIU-MEI'S BINKIES. She put the card in a bank-deposit envelope, and that evening when they were barbecuing chicken out on the patio she set the envelope on the grill and they watched it go up in smoke. Jin-Ho's father said, Jeepers, Bitsy, and moved a drumstick away from the black papery bits with his tongs. Jin-Ho's mother said, I know! I know! You don't have to tell me! Then she plopped onto a chaise longue. How did I get myself into this? she asked him.
But after that she cheered up. Come sit with me, sweetheart, she said to Xiu-Mei, and Xiu-Mei toddled over and climbed into her lap. Her pacifier this evening was yellow, shaped like a sideways 8. Once upon a time, Jin-Ho's mother told her, there was a tiny, sparkly fairy who was known as the Binky Fairy.
I sure hope we don't regret this, Jin-Ho's father said.
Whom to invite? Anyone who would come, Jin-Ho's father said. They discussed it over supper. He said, Invite the damn mailman, if you want. Invite the garbage guys.
Yes! Alphonse! Jin-Ho said.
Who's Alphonse?
He's one of the garbage guys.
We'll ask my dad, of course, Jin-Ho's mother said. And your parents. And my brothers and their families. Well, it's an excuse for a get-together! The pacifier issue is incidental, really. And the Copelands, because little Lucy will be company for Xiu-Mei. And maybe ... what do you think? The Yazdans? Or not.
She was looking at Jin-Ho's father, but Jin-Ho was the one who answered. She said, We always have the Yazdans! I always have to play with that bossy Susan.
We do not always have them, in fact, her father told her. We haven't seen them in nearly a month. We don't want things to get uncomfortable, Bitsy. I think we ought to invite them.
Well, it's no fault of mine we don't see them, Jin-Ho's mother said. She handed Xiu-Mei a chicken wing. Xiu-Mei was no longer allowed to suck her pacifier at the table, but even so she just turned the wing this way, turned the wing that way, and then set it down on her plate. You know, somehow Ziba's acted differently toward me ever since the breakup, Jin-Ho's mother said. She's seemed ... I don't know. Strained.
She feels anxious; that's all it is. She worries you hold it against her.
Well, that's absurd. She knows I'm a fair-minded person. Why would I blame her for something her mother-in-law did?
Maryam, she meant. Susan's grandma. Who was once about to marry Jin-Ho's grandpa; and if she had, then she would have been Jin-Ho's grandma as well. (Jin-Ho's father had pointed out that also, Jin-Ho's mother would have been Jin-Ho's aunt. You could start calling your mom 'Aunt Bitsy,' he'd said. Jin-Ho had said, Huh? I don't get it.) But Maryam had changed her mind, and now they didn't see her anymore. She didn't give her New Year's dinner in the spring and she was out of town during this year's Arrival Party. Conveniently out of town, Jin-Ho's mother had said. Jin-Ho wished she could have been out of town. She hated Arrival Parties.
Here's a thought, Jin-Ho's father said. He was talking to Jin-Ho now. We do invite the Yazdans, but we invite a friend from your school besides so you'll have someone not bossy to play with.
Oh! Brad? Jin-Ho's mother said. Why go complicating my guest list? That's just one more complication!
Now, hon, you remember what it was like when you were a kid your parents always pushing their friends' kids on you, even if the friends' kids were dorks.
Susan Yazdan is not a dork!
What I meant was I would invite Athena, Jin-Ho said in a definite voice. Jin-Ho's mother said, Oh.
Athena was African-American, which Jin-Ho's mother approved of.
Well, all right, she told Jin-Ho. But promise me that you won't make Susan feel left out. She's a guest. You promise?
Sure.
Anyhow, it was the other way around. Susan was the one who could make a person feel left out.
Jin-Ho's mother said, Someday, sweetie, you're going to value that friendship. I know you don't think so now, but you will. Someday you might even travel to Korea together and look up your biological mothers.
Why would we want to do that? Jin-Ho asked.
You could do it! We wouldn't mind! We would support you and encourage you!
Well, getting back to the subject Jin-Ho's father said.
Jin-Ho was not about to travel to Korea. She didn't even like the food from Korea. She didn't like wearing those costumes with the stiff, sharp seams inside, and she never, ever, even once in her life had watched that stupid videotape.
Jin-Ho's grandpa said he thought they should do this more gradually. It's like giving up cigarettes, he said. You can't expect XiuMei to go cold turkey all in a single day.
Well, I see your point, Jin-Ho's mother said. Maybe you're right.
They were in the TV room. It was Monday afternoon, and she was folding laundry while they waited for Xiu-Mei to finish her nap. So, she said, let me see how we could work this. Maybe today I could tell her no binkies in the car anymore. Only when we're home, I'll say; not when we're out and about.
You'd better get rid of all the binkies in the back seat, then, Jin-Ho told her.
Yes, yes, I know ... They're everywhere! I can't believe I actually went out and bought those infernal things!
She shook a pillowcase with a snapping sound and folded it in half. Then tomorrow, she said, I'll say no binkies in the yard, either. You know how she loves the swing set. She'll have to do without her binky if she's planning to use the swing set, I'll say. And Wednesday she can't have her binkies anywhere except her crib. And not at nap time next, on Thursday; and then Friday will be her last binky at night before the party on Saturday.
I had in mind more like a month or two, Jin-Ho's grandpa said. What exactly is your hurry?
I can't wait a month! I can't stand it anymore! Those damn things are driving me crazy!
Jin-Ho and her grandpa looked at each other. Sometimes Jin-Ho's mother did get sort of crazy.
In school today we talked about planets, Jin-Ho said.
Did you! her grandpa said in a brighter-than-usual voice. And which planet do you like best, Jin-Ho?
Pluto, because it looks kind of lonesome.
I could put up with it if she ate better, Jin-Ho's mother said. But I think she finds her pacifier so satisfying that she doesn't feel the need for food. It's discouraging to have a child who won't eat! Here I make such healthful meals, whole-grain and free-range and organic, and she just ... spurns me!
Jin-Ho's grandpa was bending over to get his rain hat from under his chair. It had been sprinkling when he arrived, although now it seemed to have stopped. As he stood up he said, I'll just leave you with one thought, Bitsy. Have you ever seen a teenager who still has a pacifier? Think about it.
Yes! Yes! Jin-Ho said. I have!
You have?
Those girls from Western High, she said. Sometimes they wear gold pacifiers on a chain around their necks.
Well, thanks a lot for bringing that to our attention, her grandpa told her. But you see what I'm saying, Bitsy. Sooner or later, Xiu-Mei will give it up on her own.
Then he left in a rush, as if he didn't want to hear what Jin-Ho's mother would answer.