Her grandparents had beaten them home.
Talia had expected them to have retired to their bedroom or have begun their nightly news session, but instead, the two waited at the kitchen table, engaged in lively conversation.
"There you are," Teta Salma beamed and gestured to Fouad. He stood up and mumbled something indistinct, while Talia stared between the two of them, trying to decipher their secret communication. "Talia, I need your help."
"With what?"
"Make sure Zaid doesn't look," she said, cheeky smile growing. "Whatever way you can."
Feeling her cheeks warm, Talia mouthed something to Zaid, but he just shrugged his shoulders and lifted his hands in confusion. Teta gestured for her to get going, so she walked behind him and shielded his eyes with her hands, pushing him down into his seat of the kitchen table.
She tried not to laugh as he shifted below her, watching her grandparents open the fridge. A small gasp left her lips when an elegant birthday cake appeared, each swirl of white cream on the sides and fresh berry on top placed with the utmost care. Zaid grabbed her wrists as he sensed something touching the table before him, but she didn't let go until Teta lit each candle.
Her grandparents wished him a happy birthday in Arabic as he took in the sight before him, eyes widening in pleasant surprise. Without thinking, he pulled them both into a tight hug, mumbling his appreciation back in their mother tongue.
"How could we not?" Teta gushed, holding her heart. "It's only your birthday once a year. Now go blow out those candles and wish for something wonderful."
"I will in a moment," Zaid said, nodding.
Smile still stuck to his lips, he turned around and gave Talia a gentle hug. The quick embrace was chaste enough for her hawk-eyed grandparents, but even they broke into a smile at his affection. As he let her go, Talia swore Teta whispered something about marriage.
Then he blew out the candles, one by one, leaving Talia to wonder what he'd wished for.
***
After over half of the cake had disappeared and one too many jokes had been cracked, Fouad pulled out a bottle of Pinot noir seemingly from nowhere. The intended recipient of the wine appeared dispassionate, glowing phone screen capturing his attention.
"Ah, I've been waiting for an excuse to buy one of these." Fouad set down a couple glasses with a clink. "Can I pour you a drink, Zaid?"
He stood up and shook his head, sliding his phone back into his jacket pocket. "I'd love one, but I have to drive back to Boston. I didn't expect to stay this long, anyway."
The festivities had robbed Talia's memory, their end reminding her once again that he was leaving tonight. She still had another hour of packing herself, ready to begin the anxiety-inducing process of making multiple checklists rife with the most insignificant of items, only to leave behind something as obvious as a laptop.
Was leaving her heart behind also an option? Because she didn't think her suitcase had room for all its broken pieces.
"Alright, more for me," Fouad joked, hunting around for a corkscrew.
Teta narrowed her eyes. "And what, exactly, are you celebrating?"
He poured himself a generous glass and took a swig, much to her palpable disapproval. "Can a man live, Salma? It's definitely a holiday somewhere."
Zaid shot Talia a hesitant glance as he rose to his feet, almost waiting for her to grant him permission to leave. She left her grandparents to bicker over the validity of the health benefits of wine and walked to the garage with him. They'd forgotten to close the door after they'd arrived, but for once, a glacial blast of air didn't meet her face, the temperate weather making her feel like she was back home in California already.
"This is it, I guess," he said, sliding his fists into his pockets. He stepped onto the line that separated the cement floor of the garage and the asphalt of the driveway and looked up at the black sky. If they squinted in just the right manner, millions of stars could come out of hiding, but their only focus was each other, spirits not as bright. "I guess we eventually have to call it goodbye."
"That word is overrated." Talia could already think of ten different ways they could communicate without having to be in the same room. "We should exchange numbers, shouldn't we? I still don't have yours."
He bristled. If it wasn't so pleasant outside, she'd have said a gust of wind rustling the fir trees behind them had caused the movement. But even after the atmosphere abated, he appeared stiff—distant, even.
"Did I say something wrong?"
He shook his head, drawing in his lower lip. A small breath escaped his mouth as his eyes finally met hers again. "It's just, are we ready for our communication to be reduced to what—texts and a couple phone calls? Maybe FaceTime, if we feel like it?"
She tugged a hand through her hair and let it fall to her side. "What choice do we have, Zaid?"
"None," he murmured. "But I know before anyone else what it's like to live your life through screens. Practically everyone I love and care about is thousands of miles away right now, and I'd be damned if I said distance helps a relationship."
"Who said that asking for your number means I want a relationship?" She bit the inside of her cheek when the callousness of that statement registered. "Fuck, sorry. That sounds harsh. I just mean I'm not expecting anything concrete. We can take it slow."
He shook his head. "Maybe, for once, we're not on the same page."
"So, what are you saying? You'd rather not try? Because as far as I know, five months isn't that long. We can see each other again this summer and figure something out before we graduate next year."
"We may not—" He pursed his lips and looked away, hand at the nape of his neck. "We may not be able to figure something out, Talia."
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Look," Zaid breathed. "I might not come back to the US after graduating. I've realized that it's not fair to have thrown every responsibility on my brother all so I could come here and chase a bunch of meaningless dreams. In a year, I'll be just as qualified as him to work at my father's firm, so why throw that opportunity away?" The hand on his neck slapped his side, fingers curling with tension as he looked away. "I have as much of a place here as you do back in my country, and I could never push that life on you."
Though his burdened eyes could have convinced anyone else, Talia knew every word that left his lips forced its conviction, laced with oppressive guilt. "Did your brother ask this of you?"
"It's not that he's told me anything," he sighed. "I've just sensed it, ever since he returned home for good a year and a half ago."
"But I don't understand," she whispered, shaking her head. How could he have changed up so quickly? Just the other day, he'd almost worked himself into a depression over spending a couple hours away from her. "You made it clear so many times that living here was your dream. At that dinner, you told me, in your own words, that you wanted to stay in the US after graduating. How will this plan make you happy, Zaid?"
"I wasn't raised to do what makes me happy, Talia. That's an American delusion. I was taught to make practical choices."
When almost a minute passed, and the only sounds that filled the air were the engines of a few passing cars and the rustles of a few dead branches, she swallowed the widening lump in her throat and spoke again.
"This is you trying to tell me something else, right?"
The muscles in his face softened, along with the ones in his heart, apparently. He took a step forward and reached for her hand, but she pulled it away, not wanting affection or sympathy to cloud the proper conclusion to this conversation.
"No," he breathed. "This is me saying it would only be fair to let you go, given this decision. You should be free to find someone near you, whose life won't take them thousands of miles away for good."
"But I—" Talia bit her tongue, not wanting him to know how she felt. He didn't deserve to see her so vulnerable, but her feelings stabbed her in the back and sent the words flying out of her throat. "I don't want anyone else. Do you?"
"I want no one besides you. But I have to stop running."
"After what?"
"Not after things. Away from them."
Somehow Talia still couldn't accept that as an answer.
"If you're going back home so people don't think you're the spoiled-rotten younger son, you'll still look like that to someone else as you're handed a job on a silver platter. But if you stay here to make up for the years spent somewhere else, time will still pass you by, and you'll lose even more stuck in the past. It's not the location, Zaid." She held back her last two words, but they uttered themselves: "It's you."
"Are you saying I should change my mind, then?"
Talia knew he wanted her to say yes, but she shook her head. "No. I'm saying maybe you found where you're supposed to be."
Because if you haven't, I most definitely have.
"I wish I had your understanding of life, Talia," he forced out after a quiet moment, "but this is mine." With each step back, his gaze fell an inch. "Maybe my only regret is having let you believe otherwise."
"So, that's what you meant when you said it's all a glimpse here, right?" she snapped, voice close to cracking. "Because these last three weeks were a great fucking glimpse of what it would be like to love you." With a few steps back towards the garage, she uttered what was left of her heart. "I'm just so glad I didn't get that far."
When she turned around, he expected he'd grab on to her arm, but he stayed frozen. Swallowing back her tears, she made it to the door, wishing he'd say anything. The time on her phone screen mocked her as she gripped the handle, looking into his eyes one last time.
"Oh, and by the way, happy birthday, Zaid. It's finally nine-thirty."
She left the stars and her soul behind her, running back into the house. For a moment, she waited. She leaned against the door to the garage and tried to make out footsteps, but silence engulfed her, inside and out.
Tears blurring her eyes, she poured herself a glass of wine from the bottle waiting on the table, scoffing at how a drink of celebration could become the poison of her pain. Maybe she had just missed the meaning behind all his mentions of their parting, chalking them up to a preparation for a different relationship, the one that would have superseded a vacation with no rules.
But nothing was waiting for her on the other side of this.
So, she drank some more, on a birthday that wasn't hers, crying tears no one wiped away.