Free If You Could Be Mine by Sara Farizan Page A

been so many cracks in our respective armors. I wonder which of us will crumble first.
    “I’m angry because I can’t always protect you. I need you to be careful, because if anything happens to you . . .” My voice starts to break.
    “Don’t cry, Sahar. Shhh, don’t do that.” She places one hand on top of mine.
    I don’t often cry in front of her. Nasrin is the crier, especially when some girl is wearing the same dress as her at a party. These days it seems I am the one crying in front of Nasrin, crying over Nasrin, crying about being without Nasrin. I’m so exhausted. I wipe my eyes with my free hand, and she slowly withdraws her own. She gives me a furtive smile, and her eyes gleam. Because of me. No one else gets that look. I feel better.
    “Hello, you two dolls! Run into some trouble today?” As Ali walks toward our table, all eyes are on him. His pace is steady and nonchalant; he’s used to the lustful glares, the jealous murmurings, and the awed glances. I don’t dare ask what business he does here. Nasrin and I stand up to greet Ali, and he kisses each of us on both cheeks, with not a care for prying eyes or for the danger such an action could create.
    We all sit down and the short man comes by again, with three waiters this time. Ali asks for two orders each of kabob soltani and zereshk polo, which he knows is Nasrin’s favorite. The waiters hurry away from our table. This is unusual for food service in Iran. Usually the waiters come around when they feel like it, and you may or may not get your food in two weeks. The short man comments on what a lovely young lady I am. Ali treats him like a pimple he is having a difficult time popping. After a few more bows of the head, the man walks away. Ali rolls his eyes at us and doesn’t bother to explain why he is so important here.
    “Farshad called me. Good thing he was there,” Ali says, looking at me with concern. He always cheats the law, but it’s funny that the one time I get in trouble he gets upset.
    “It’s my fault,” Nasrin admits. “The officer didn’t agree with my being fashionable,” I know she would take blame only for me. Everything else she just pins on someone else.
    “My cousin seems to get into nothing but trouble because of you,” Ali says. “I hope you appreciate her friendship .” It may be the first time I have ever seen him angry.
    “I do appreciate her friendship, ” Nasrin snaps. “I don’t appreciate you insinuating otherwise!” The two of them look at each other like dueling princesses fighting over the last lipstick.
    “Well, your husband will be the one to deal with you soon enough. What’s his name again? Ramiz? Rasheed?”
    I kind of like it that Ali says this, but then I feel guilty. It also reminds me that I am running out of time, because Reza is a lot of things, but insignificant is not one of them. I’m not ready to reveal my half-crazed plan to these two, though.
    Nasrin bites back. “At least I have people who care about me. Not like the false friends you push drugs to.” But this is not the place to challenge Ali.
    “If you two cared about me, you wouldn’t land me in dangerous situations all the time,” I say. They look at me, their faces softening.
    “Well, what fun would it be if we didn’t get you in dangerous situations once in a while?” Ali says with a grin. “You’d be so boring, reciting biology notes all the time.”
    Nasrin chuckles. Fine. If it takes them making fun of me to get along, so be it.
    This whole time, Ali has been fiddling with his cell phone. “I’ve arranged a ride back to your apartment.”
    “Ali, no! Not them again!” I don’t know if Nasrin would be able to handle the “mother-daughter” duo. Ali laughs a little.
    “They won’t accept any calls while they drive, I promise.” I don’t have enough for cab fare, and I can’t risk Nasrin riding the bus and getting in trouble again. She’s covered her elbows, but her sleeves don’t reach to her