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“Oh.” I shrug, but my heartbeat picks up as I respond, “The guy who switched seats with me before asked to switch again so he can be with his family. I couldn’t say no.”
The beginnings of a grin touches Sarfaraz’s face before he schools his expression. “Well, as long as you don’t bother me this time,” he says, but the playful hint in his tone undercuts his words.
“Oh, I promise,” I assure him. Out of curiosity, I lean forward so I can look past his chest, and my mouth curls into a smirk when I recognize Comatose Guy sitting next to Sarfaraz. A sleep mask covers his eyes, and his mouth hangs slightly open as he snores. The plane hasn’t even taken off yet and he’s already asleep. I shake my head and settle properly in my seat.
Sarfaraz tries to do more work, and at first, I do keep to myself, but I end up asking him to finish Crash Landing on You with me. To my surprise, he agrees, and we watch a couple more episodes before he decides he wants to sleep. While I’d rather not sit here alone with my own thoughts, he rests and I read on my iPad.
Thankfully, without any further hiccups, we make it to Islamabad. Islamabad is the capital of the country, though Lahore is technically more well-known. It’s a shame I’m not staying in Pakistan for too long; when I used to come as a kid, I would spend at least a month here. I stopped going when I got older and it became harder to skip school, but I still miss the long afternoons spent at markets or the weekends road-tripping to the mountains in the north.
I head over to an information desk in the airport. The person working behind the desk confirms my luggage has made it from Toronto, so I go to baggage claim and pick up my suitcase. Sarfaraz has already grabbed his bag by the time I get there, and he helps me pull mine off the conveyor belt. Once we have all our stuff, we head for the exit. Before we step outside, though, I take a second to call Ammi. I updated her every now and then while we were in Switzerland, but I managed to avoid phone calls by saying I didn’t want to spend more money on my international plan than I had to. It’s supposed to be a quick call, but of course, nothing is ever quick with my mom.
“Ammi, for the last time, you don’t have to send Mustafa Mamu to come get me,” I insist.
“But it’ll save you time!”
“How?” I demand. “It’s way too far for him to drive to come get me. And what’s he supposed to take? His motorcycle? Plus, I’ve already paid for the bus ticket to Karachi.”
“I don’t like the thought of you traveling alone,” she sniffs. “It’s dangerous!”
I almost tell her that I’m not alone, but that would involve telling her I’ve spent the last couple of days with a stranger, and then I’d have to explain why I didn’t tell her, and it’ll become way too complicated. Instead, I say, “It’s very simple, Mom. The bus goes straight from the airport to the station in Karachi. I’ll be on the bus the whole time. I won’t even get off to pee. And I have my phone so you can reach me whenever you want.”
Ammi grumbles on the other line. “Fine...” she relents, then her tone picks up. “But you have to text me updates.”
“Don’t worry, I will.” I look back at Sarfaraz, who is waiting by the door. “Listen, Ammi, I gotta get on the bus. Inshallah, I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay. Khuda hafiz.”
I say it back, then hang up and pocket my phone. I head over to Sarfaraz. “Sorry about that,” I tell him. “Even though I’m an adult, my mother still thinks I can’t take care of myself.”
“No worries,” he assures me.
We step out of the airport, and the brutal late-June temperature slaps us in the face. I choke out a breath. “Oomph, I feel like I stepped into a volcano.”
Sarfaraz wipes his forehead. “It’s a big contrast to Switzerland. I mean, it was still hot there, but nothing like this.”
He’s right; Switzerland was bad but endurable. The thickness of Pakistan’s climate makes me want to submerge myself into the Antarctic Ocean and never get out. I can learn to live with penguins, but orca whales aren’t friendly, no matter what SeaWorld tries to say.
We make it to the bus and find seats near the middle, and a small spark of pleasure lights up my chest when Sarfaraz automatically moves off to the side and waits for me to take the window seat. I giddily slide over and sit.
Once we’re settled and the bus takes off, I crane my neck. It’s stiff after spending so much time leaning against a window or uncomfortably on a travel pillow. I already can’t wait to see my Parveen Khala, who gives the best massages. Ammi says it’s one of her favorite parts of going back home to Pakistan, and I honestly can’t blame her; that woman’s fingers are magic. But for now, all I can do is press my own fingers against the sorest spots in my neck.
Sarfaraz notices me struggling. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I answer. I roll my neck out one more time. “I don’t know how much longer my neck can handle leaning to the left while resting on a window.”
Sarfaraz hesitates, then pats his shoulder. “You can lean on me, if you want.”
My stomach clenches. “What?”
He rolls his eyes, indifference wrinkling his forehead, but I can tell by the way he doesn’t look directly at me that he’s a little...shy? “I’m just trying to save myself a round of your complaining; I still have to sit on a bus next to you for seventeen hours. So, you know.” He shrugs. “Take it or leave it.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, before softly resting my temple against him. Sarfaraz stiffens under my touch at first, but then he relaxes. Encouraged, I close my eyes, welcoming the softness of his body.
I don’t know how much time passes, but at some point, the bus jostles abruptly. I wake with a gasp. I grip my seat, and after a few more alarming stutters, the bus slugs to a stop.
My heartbeat slowly returns to a normal pace as I look at Sarfaraz. “What happened?”
Sarfaraz grabs the seat in front of him and hauls himself to his feet. “I’ll go find out from the driver. Wait here.”
