chapter 1

Leaving the dorm room troubled Grace. It left a trail of unease from her very hands to her stomach. Bending around cramped her back and distracted her from her mission. Even though her tiny room was humble, it was also neat and most importantly hers. Whenever her exams were over, she felt a sense of finality and dread rather than joy and relaxed nerves.

Every weekend before her vacation started, she’d pack. And this time, it was no different. Saturday night was quiet for once. Everyone nearly left. Winter break was the longest and most fun for others, but not to Grace. She went back to Kuwait where her family was. It was no easy task to leave the comfort of her two year old home in the dorms a house thousands of miles away.

The thought was so heavy on her mind that it rendered her useless. Every thirty minutes, she would lie back on her bed, finger the worn comforter between her index finger and her thumb and sigh. It was nowhere as cold in Kuwait as in Michigan; she had no need to pack most of her things. Just the things she grew horribly attached to. She was sure her bedroom at the house was the same as she left it. Tidy but also in a state of rush. She almost missed her flight the last time she was there. Anger bubbled ever so faintly in the back of her mind as she recalled the inconsideration that was her sister’s attitude towards her. Grace clearly asked to be woken up at dawn. She reminded her of how deep of a sleeper she was. But it fell on deaf ears, like everything else she said. The twist in her stomach brought hot tears to her eyes but she shut them and pinched the bridge of her nose. She will not cry. At least, not start now. She eased the downy creased under her palms and made sure her eyes went dry.

With renewed vigor, she sat up and turned to her companion, but Jameela was not in sight. Not under her bed, not under her desk, not on her chair where she preferred to nap. She was tempted to unpack her suitcase and check if she accidentally buried the cat under piles of books she wanted to take home. She looked in her closet. Seeing as there were more than enough sweat pants in Kuwait as in here, her closet remained undisturbed except for the slightest. And cat-less. Even rummaging through her shoe rack, Grace didn’t find her. Panic rose like a warning flag and the urge to cry spiked up once more.

“Calm down,” Grace told herself aloud. And just like that, she did.

She grabbed a heavy navy coat that fell to her thighs, donned it atop her thick grey blouse. Her socks, a present from her friend, made of an outstanding thick quality kept her feet warm in the most brutal winters and were ideal for her winter boots. She bent down to tie them around her ankles before leaving. She locked the door behind, buried the keys and her phone in the pit of her coat and began her search.

As Grace expected, the dorm was nearly empty except for a couple of girls and boys indecisive about whether to stay or leave. Since they had a flexible dorm manager, most people didn’t have to stick to a heavy rule whether to inform the manager or not of their departure. She was cautious in her search, keeping her voice quiet and her gait light, not wanting to seem fretful. Grace mapped the whole floor and found no cat. Then she moved to the second. By the fourth floor, her thighs protested the quick pace but she ignored them. She was in bad shape and she had no one to blame but herself. Sis will blame me again and again, so there is no need to do that on my own, she thought bitterly of her sister’s ever so negative and deprecating attitude about Grace’s figure.

Albeit she was busy looking around for the little ball of fur she adored so much, her mind kept on pulling threads of memory. Of the many times her sister grabbed her stomach and pulled on the fat stored there, of the running jokes of how she was always hungry and needed nothing else but food but that she could live with, had lived. What hurt her truly was that all six sisters of hers joined in on the jokes. Not one of them gave her a break about her weight. But now was not the time to woe her sisters’ insensitivity. She had a cat to find. With a sigh as heavy as her stomp, she took the elevator to the ground floor and after a quick search, she left the dorm complex altogether. Jameela was not indoors; just as she feared.

“Good, I hated that cat anyway,” she heard her sister Amani’s voice ringing in her mind as she frantically wrapped her green woolen scarf tighter around her throat. Amani was eight years older than Grace and venomously detested the cat she adopted a year prior.

The first time she brought Jameela back with her was during last year’s summer break. She was met with negative responses. She pocketed heavy unsolicited advices about responsibility from her three sisters except her fourth, Fatin. Fatin had a cat of her own, Latte, and Fatin was more than happy to see the beauty, no pun intended, in the carrier.

Fatin’s positivity rejuvenated Grace’s spirits and she felt immense happiness. Jameela was accepted by at least one and a half, considering that her mother didn’t hate cats but also did not like to take care of them either. Her mother pointed out that Grace needed to focus on her studies instead of a cat but that didn’t make Grace dislike her baby any less. It only encouraged her to take care of her and prove them all wrong but being extra attentive in her studies.

The burst of wind blew into her nose and choked her up for a second but she took a hold of the railing and went down the stairs outside the dorm. This had happened before, and she found the Siamese in a bush not so far. With some positivity, she didn’t think too much of the possibility of Jameela getting a little too adventurous. She knew her well and she hoped that her knowledge of Jameela’s laziness was assurance enough to her wrecked nerves.

No such luck.

She walked around the perimeters, calling her voice faintly, so she wouldn’t attract attention from any nosy students but loud enough for the pet to hear her voice and hopefully come back to her arms safe and sound.
Least of her problems would be the worry of anyone reporting her to the dean that she had a pet stashed in her bedroom. She gave the random passerby a nod and a guarded smile as she made her way into snow-covered paved roads.

She wished she had a GPS on Jameela but her faith in the cat’s nature was strong and she didn’t think she would need it. Plus, that was money she couldn’t throw around. Being a student on a scholarship sounded good but only to ignorant people who had no idea of how cruel reality was. Grace had two part-time jobs in the university and a full one tutoring in the summer. For three months, she’d help her sisters’ kids’ English skills. She hoped her hard work earned her some credibility in her sister's eyes every year but she didn’t count on it too much. She would always be the bed wetter and whiny Zain to them, never hard-working and in control of her emotions Grace.

Harsh memories of her sisters tried to surface from the deepest pits of her brain but she shoved them back and busied herself with her on-hand dilemma.

She trotted into the backyard behind the university’s main and biggest library. It was her favorite place on campus. There was a large empty yard with granite floors and rock benches that left her bottom aching for minutes after her lengthy reading breaks. She worked in the library for four nights a week, stacking, earning the minimum and thanking the lord anyway because in there she could enjoy peace and quiet compared to her other occupations.

It was there, on one of the benches, nestled in a bundle of black, she found her milky white ball of fur. Jameela looked no bigger than a basketball with her eyes serenely closed and her mouth in a perpetual close-mouthed grin. The panic rose in Grace’s throat though. Jameela was not alone. She was in the arms of a strange man. Gingerly, Grace approached.

“Jameela,” she called softly and that was enough to rouse her. Jameela’s eyes opened, her pupils dilated far and that made her look so adorable. The hand rubbing behind ear stopped and the man turned his head in Grace’s direction. She sucked in air faintly, trying her best not to show the fear of exposure on her face. With a lazy yawn, Jameela untangled her lithe limbs from the scarf and jumped out of the warm lap without a backward glance.

Grace hoped she could just scoop her and leave but the man got up. She saw him gather his scarf with long slender fingers. He threw it around his neck as he walked to her. She bent and accepted Jameela into her arms with ease. Grace took one glove off and started Jameela’s purring back on with quick rubs to her favorite spot, which, Grace noted, was scratched nicely by the same guy staring at her. She threw him a look over and saw curiosity in his face. Lips parted and she somehow knew what he’d ask.

“Is she yours?” his voice was deep in the emptiness.

“Yeah,” she replied. Years of living with her quick and aggressive sister, she learnt to keep her answers short. This tactic seemed legible to keep her safe even in this situation.

“She seemed well cared-for, nothing like the vicious strays I run into before,” he said amusedly. He watched Jameela take full advantage of the nervousness of her owner’s hand. Grace didn’t reply. Her stomach was in a knot, her legs ready to bolt and pretend that she didn’t admit to a total stranger that she broke the university’s rules. He doesn’t know that I live in the dorms, she thought hopefully. But what would a student be doing on the campus the weekend after exams? The ugly truth rang in her head. She was doomed.

As if reading her mind, the total stranger spoke: “I won’t tell.” His reassuring voice came through her haze of potential Bad Endings and she snapped her head up.

He stood considerably away and she saw no color in his eyes but darkness. They were fixed on her.

“Thanks.” She took a step back. She wanted to nod, turn away and run as fast as she could but she saw him take more steps closer. Now closer, and receiving a good dose of the overhead light, she could see his features more clearly. His eyes were dark hazels with messy tuffs of hair curtaining his forehead and eyebrows, albeit most of it was hidden under a beanie and the scarf he wrapped around Jameela now covered his chin and wrapped tightly around his neck. Her throat closed up with the realization that he was cute. Uh oh.

“I’m… Sean,” he said and gave her a smile. It was casual and friendly and pulled on his mouth. He looked a lot better smiling and it relaxed her.

“I’m Grace and thank you for that, it means a lot to me,” she explained earnestly, hoping he would keep his word. She nestled Jameela to her chest with her left arm and reached out and offered him her right hand to shake. He reached and took her palm, a firm quick shake. Even after she buried the same hand into her pocket, she still felt his warmth, although he had no gloves on, his fingers weren’t uncomfortably cold. A tingle spread over her fingertips and all the way to her wrist. She avoided his eyes and focused on a point behind him.

“But take care in hiding her, there are prying eyes, waiting for any slips,” Sean warned and pulled her eyes back into his gaze with his voice. Grace noticed the shadow of a mustache on his upper lip.
“Oh, that I’m an expert at,” she heeded his warning but was assured for once in that day of something. “Just watch,” she instructed him and he watched, amusement evident in his eyes, which widened a teeny bit as she unzipped her jacket and stuffed the compliant cat inside. She zipped it back up but left a considerable opening for the cat’s head. She pulled on the hood from the back and pulled it onto her head. With the help of her scarf, she looked positively harmless.

“Wow, that’s impressive. I can’t tell that you’re hiding anything inside,” he applauded her silently and she beamed proudly. She peered inside to see Jameela nestled comfortably against her ample chest, closing her eyes and readying herself for a good nap.

“Never gonna whine about big breasts ever again!” she said before she thought the words well enough. The statement colored her cheeks a bright red but he broke into a chuckle and seemed surprised by his own mirth so she let herself laugh as well.

“Well then, I’m gonna head back. Thank you again, Sean,” she murmured.

“You’re most welcome, Grace,” he responded. She took a few steps backwards and with a soft smile, she turned.

She heard his voice call not a few paces away, “See you around, Beautiful!” although she knew he was calling after Jameela, whose name meant just that, ‘Beautiful’ in Arabic, she still felt a good dose of tingles in her stomach. Interesting, she thought. He knew what Jameela meant. Good.

With a sense of newly brewed positivity, Grace walked back to the dorm room to finish her task of packing and maybe get a couple of hours of sleep before her four am flight.

The ride in the cab felt like was a short one, especially since she fell into a reading daze with Jameela napping in her carrier. She paid the cab and got assisted with her luggage. The house loomed big and familiar before her eyes. With a deep breath, she unlocked the iron gate and stepped in. It was Sunday morning. “We’re here, Jameela,” she spoke into the carrier and tightened her grip over her luggage with her other hand. Grace’s house had been a full one when she was young. With six daughters and three sons, the house seemed alive from the very core. It was neither extravagant nor shabby but it was well loved and worn around the edges. A lot like their lives. In moments of thankfulness, her mother especially reminded them of the harsh environment they used to live in before.

Marrying into her father’s family meant heavy duty to her mother, but that didn’t deter her from caring for her family. Her mother previously lived in a house with even more people as a girl, and since she was the eldest; she helped raise her siblings. Managing a house of nine meant nothing compared to that.

The worst fell upon them with their father’s passing, but that only proved to Grace her mother’s greatness. She was the split image of strength. Clearly, Grace recalled the iron grip her mother had on her nerves as she faced hundreds of guests at her father’s funeral. Her mom proudly hosted three days of Aza’a; which was the traditional period of mourning for a passing Muslim, over her father where many people grieved openly. Until those days, ten year old Grace was not familiar with her father’s family. The Persians kept away. As if by marrying a half-Arab and moving from Iran to Kuwait, her father committed a sin worthy of exile.

She always thought of her uncles and aunt as mysterious and farfetched, until she saw them in the wake. They were gaunt and old and not that scary. Her aunt was kind, she pet her hair and murmured Du’aa, softly spoken prayers, in her ears. One uncle kept a bridge between the families, since he was the most capable of visits, though a line of distance was still drawn because she saw none of his many sons and daughters.

Three months later, her eldest sister Salma gave birth to Mariam, Grace’s first niece. Her birth dispersed some of the sadness away and gave them hope, and that’s when Grace stopped crying for her father openly.

That was nearly nine years ago. As she stepped into the living room, she could barely recall her father’s voice. All her sisters but Marwa moved out, her eldest brother got a house after seven long years of savings and her mother seemed lonelier than ever. But she awaited her daughters’ visits with love ever so warm, even Grace’s.

She met the smile of her mother with a mirrored one. She fell into the embrace and tried her best to recall just how much she loved getting a rare hug. She breathed her mother’s scent just as she heard the door of her sister’s bedroom. Marwa came out all ready for university, and her pink mouth stretched in a smile. In a moment of forgotten grudges, she hugged Grace and wished her a blessed return. “You sure didn’t change from last summer,” Marwa said pointedly with a good humored smile.

With that, Grace transformed back into Zain, youngest, fattest and loneliest. She ignored Marwa and accepted the cup of warm tea her mom offered her with a courteous smile.