Kismet, page 1
Kismet
Copyright © 2019 by Rose Kobac
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without notarized written consent of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Photos:
Nuzza11—Adobe Stock
Unique Vision—Adobe Stock
Photographee.eu—Shutterstock
Photographee.eu—Adobe Stock
Cover Design:
Amy Queau—Q Cover Design
Editing:
Kristen Portillo—Your Editing Lounge
Formatting and Interior Design:
Stacey Blake—Champagne Book Design
Title Page
Copyright
Playlist
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Joy—Same Place
Alicia Keys—Unthinkable
Donna Missal—Jupiter
Waju & Aiya—Don’t Rush
Royksopp—Something In My Heart
Noita—Velvet
The Flamingos—I Only Have Eyes For You
Purity Ring—Push Pull
Jarryd James—Do You Remember
Emmit Fenn—Painting Greys
Lykke Li—Deep End
Halsey—Haunting
Nichole,
It was almost four years ago when I started sending rough drafts to your email about this crazy story that was in my head.
Then, one day, overwhelmed and disillusioned with my work, I stopped writing.
For two years the files just sat on my phone and every now and then you would ask,
“Are you going to finish your book?”
I didn’t know. Would I?
This book is here today, not because I had a story to tell, but because you asked me to tell it.
So, now, even though you know how the story ends,
I’m going to ask you to read it one more time.
Past
Age 7
“Granger! Let’s go!” I heard Ghabi’s Pakistani accent echo through the house.
Putting on one last layer of strawberry Lip Smackers, I looked at myself in the vanity mirror.
It will have to do.
I snatched my little purse off the bed and dashed down the staircase where my mother, stepdad, and Duaa were patiently waiting for me. My mom caught my wrist as I tried to blow past her out the door. “Let me see you, peu d’amour.” She took my chin in her hand and turned my face from side to side, examining me.
I rolled my lips inward, hoping she wouldn’t notice the thick coating of chapstick I had managed to lather on.
Seeming satisfied, she fluffed my curls from the rollers she had taken out earlier. “Parfaite,” she praised in her native French tongue.
My stepdad, Ghabi, looked at his watch. “Marcella, we need to go. We are going to be late.”
“Patience, my dear husband,” she said to him before calling out for our housekeeper. “Vivienne!”
As usual, Vivienne appeared out of nowhere, and for the hundredth time today, my mother gave her instructions about the caterers for my brother’s graduation party later. Then we were off.
I got stuck sitting beside Ghabi’s mother, Duaa, during the car ride. Every year, she flew in from Yemen and stayed with us for about three months. This year she came a little earlier so she could see her grandson—my half-brother—Taj, graduate from high school.
She didn’t speak much English, nor was she my grandma, so I just stared out the window while she adjusted the fabric of her hijab. As I was a seven-year-old, we didn’t have much to talk about anyways.
When we got to the school’s convention center, Ghabi rushed us through the parking lot and I had to run to keep up.
By the time we made it into the air conditioning, I was hot, and the fabric of my dress clung to my skin. The woman who was greeting people at the entrance handed me a program outlining the events that were to take place, but I didn’t look inside. I was too busy fanning myself with it.
Since the auditorium was overflowing, we needed one of the staff to help us find our seats. Shortly after we got settled, my mother began to fiddle with her camera, making sure it was cued up to take a hundred pictures in the next few hours. The lights dimmed, and the ceremony began.
The adults seemed captivated by the random older people that were speaking about stuff I wasn’t old enough to comprehend yet. Truth be told, I was bored out of my brains. I entertained myself by scribbling doodles on my program, shifting positions in my chair, even making an unnecessary trip to the bathroom and back. I dug through my purse, which pretty much had nothing in it, making noise until Ghabi grabbed my knee and gave me a stern look. After that, I did my best to be quiet and pay attention.
I was only interested in seeing one person walk across that stage, and it wasn’t my brother. It was his best friend, Collin Stadlen.
It didn’t matter that I had seen him every day for the past two years since he came to live with us after his grandparents died in a car accident. Or that I’ve known him my entire life—I wanted to see him again.
To me, he was so cute. He was my first crush that I could remember. Well, besides Justin Timberlake, I had a crush on him too, and Brentley West. He gave me a spent dandelion stem one day at recess. Smitten, I proudly showed it off to everyone at dinner that evening. From that point on, Collin would tease me about Brentley being my boyfriend.
So, it only made sense that when I made my origami paper fortune tellers that I included Brentley’s name along with Collin and Justin’s. But try as I may to manipulate it, I could never land on Collin’s name. Oh well, it’s just a stupid piece of paper anyway.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, they started calling the graduates’ names to get their diplomas.
I craned my neck to peek over everyone’s heads, but I still couldn’t see. Tapping Ghabi’s arm, I whispered in his ear and asked him if I could sit in his lap. Without answering me, he scooped me up, giving me a bird’s-eye view just in time for them to call Taj Bashara. We clapped, and my mom snapped a million pictures as he walked out on stage, then it was back to the waiting game.
After a while, I caught on that they were going in alphabetical order according to the student’s last name. And seeing that they just called someone with the last name Roberts, I knew it wouldn’t be long before they started calling the ones that began with S.
Sure enough, a few minutes later I heard Collin Stadlen’s name over the loudspeaker.
Immediately, all my attention was on him as he came across the stage wearing a green cap and gown. Cheers and whistles from fellow classmates spurred him on as he gratefully accepted his diploma from the principal. I was ecstatic, clapping my hands red. Little did I know that by him graduating high school, in a few short months he would be off to college. My charming infatuation down the hall from me would be gone and I would still be at home by myself writing my spelling words.
After the ceremony, we went outside, and more pictures were in order. My mother had everyone assume every possible pose, with each person by a sign or statue.
“Peu d’amour, go stand with your brother and Collin.”
Without protest, I went over and stood between them as they knelt to my level. My mother pulled the camera away from her eye and laughed. “Collin, no bunny ears!”
I turned to see him having a good laugh at my expense. “Got ya, Cariou.”
Even at the age of seven, I hated that he called me Cariou and I had told him as much. It made me feel like I stuck out like a sore thumb. “Stop calling me that,” I reminded him.
“Why? It’s your name, silly.”
No, it was my mother’s maiden name because I was the natural born daughter of nobody knew who. I was walking-talking proof that my mother had not been faithful in her marriage. Calling me Cariou only made it more obvious. I might be young, but some things you caught onto quicker than others, and that, was one of them.
“Granger, Collin, look at the camera!”
Sticking my nose up at him, I looked back at my mother, giving a haughty smile. But seconds later, I could feel the weight of his wrist on my head, giving me bunny ears yet again.
Boys, one minute they’re nice, then, the next they’re teasing you. I don’t understand them.
I was not allowed to partake i
“Peu d’amour, Tom and Gloria are bringing Kristen over in just a little bit to spend the night. You can stay up late, play, and eat sweets.”
“But I want to be with everyone else.”
She smiled. “In another month, you will have a birthday coming up, and you can invite all your friends and have fun. Right now, it is Taj and Collin’s turn.” She kissed my forehead and whisked me in the direction of our back staircase, sending me on my way.
Thankfully, Kristen arrived shortly thereafter, and the party downstairs wasn’t forefront in my mind anymore.
We dressed up, played in my mother’s makeup, and put on her jewelry—which I was not allowed to do. But we didn’t stop there. Since we had no supervision for the evening, we snuck into my brother’s room and went through his DVD collection. We selected what appeared to be a horror movie that was rated R and took it back to my bedroom.
I put the DVD in the player, feeling triumphant that we had not been caught during our sneaky little expedition.
“What if your mom comes up?” Kristen asked. She was always such a killjoy. Every time I wanted to do things we shouldn’t, she was there, raining on my parade.
“We’ll just turn it off really quick and pretend like we’re sleeping.” My simple suggestion made me feel clever as our giggles engulfed the room. We crawled into my bed, snuggling into the covers. I grabbed the turtle stuffed animal that Collin had won for me out of a claw vending machine. It was safe to say that it was possibly my most prized possession.
“I’m getting rid of all my stuffed animals,” Kristen noted in reference to my action, pressing play on the remote.
I looked at her aghast. “Why?
“Because we are going to be eight this summer and I don’t want to play with them anymore.”
I looked down at my purple turtle. “Well, Collin gave me this one, so I’m keeping it.”
“You love Collin,” she teased.
I felt my face heat up and my ears burn. “Do not.”
“Do too.”
“Do not!” I don’t know why I tried to deny it. I’ve told her a thousand times that I thought he was cute.
“Collin and Granger sittin’ in a tree,” she said in a sing-song voice. “K I S S I N G. First comes—”
Grabbing my pillow, I hit her in the face with it, but it was useless. The teasing carried on through the movie, after the movie, up until my mom came and kissed us goodnight.
“Bonne Nuit, my little loves,” she said, tucking the covers in around us. Then she turned out the lamp and closed my door.
I laid there for a long time, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars and planets on my ceiling as the faint sounds of music from the party outside could be heard in my room.
“Krissy?” I whispered.
But she didn’t answer. Gently, I picked up her hand and let it fall limp to the mattress to see if she was still asleep. Satisfied that she was, I crawled out of bed and snuck over to my window. Crouching down, I lifted a flap of the blind and peered out over the pool. It was hard to see because the pool lights had been turned off, and there was just a glow from the fixtures attached to the house. But I was still able to spot Collin in the far corner, kissing a girl I had seen in the kitchen earlier.
I don’t think my heart sank—I was too young for that, but I was curious and a little jealous as I continued to watch them.
It didn’t take long for the girl to reach behind herself and untie her bikini top. Then his hands came up, touching the front of her chest.
My eyes widened. I couldn’t see anything since they were hidden below the water, but still, it was shocking none the less.
Pulling my finger out of the blind, I let it fall back in place as I sat on the floor.
Why is she taking her clothes off for him?
Why is he touching her?
I didn’t understand, but I knew better than to keep looking in order to find out.
Getting up, I went back over to my bed and quietly crawled in. The glossy eyes of my turtle stared back at me. Jealousy bubbled in my young heart, and in a fit of anger, I snatched it up and flung it to the floor.
Past / Age 13
It was three weeks before Christmas and the yearly Colorado family vacation was already in full swing and so was my high-altitude sickness.
Usually, we fly into Denver and spend the night before driving up the mountains to our chalet, but this year my mother decided to land in Aspen.
To say that the sudden elevation change left me a little indisposed was an understatement.
I had already thrown up twice this morning, leaving me lightheaded and with no appetite. The migraine pulsing in my head made me want to stab myself in the eye. And on top of all that, I had my braces tightened two days before we left.
“Granger, I can stay behind if you want,” Oliver politely offered.
What a rare gem Oliver Mandeville was. He was genuine salt to mother earth. No wonder my mother said that I could invite him to come with us this year. “Go, I want you to enjoy yourself. Taj and Collin know all the good slopes for snowboarding. You’ll have fun with them.”
“But what about you?”
“I’m probably going to nap. Besides, Mom and Kristen are going to come check on me at lunch. It’s no big deal, really,” I insisted.
Giving me a forlorn look, he squeezed my hand. “I promise, if you’re not feeling better by tomorrow, I’ll stay behind with you.”
Unsupervised snuggles on the couch? Um, yes, please. I’m totally down for that. “I’m going to hold you to it.”
“Oh, you bet I—”
“Dang, Oliver! Are you coming or what?” Kristen demanded, suddenly poking her head in the room.
“I’m right behind you!” Dropping a quick kiss to my cheek, he bolted out of my room. I sat there with my jaw agape as the swishing sound of his ski bibs carried down the hall.
Oliver and I have been together for five months now, and the most we had ever done was hold hands and hug. The fact that he just kissed me, even if it was on the cheek, blew my mind.
Smiling, I bit my lower lip as I touched my skin where his lips had just been. There was a mental image in my head of me cloud climbing until I reached number nine. I snuggled into the down comforter and let myself fall asleep thinking about my first kiss.
I hated naps in the middle of the day. When you woke up, it was like you’d been sleeping so long you were unsure if the same president was still in office. The digital clock on the nightstand confirmed that it was twelve thirty on the same day as I went to sleep. So, that was a plus.
Through the open blinds, I could see that a fresh layer of snow had fallen while I was sleeping, and it involuntarily made me shiver as I climbed out of bed. Grabbing a hoodie from my luggage, I tugged it on, shoving my hands in the front pockets. The cold in Aspen was different from North Carolina. Here, it made your eyes water, dried your skin out, and chilled you to the bone.
Downstairs, the fire that Ghabi had built earlier was still going as I made a beeline for the refrigerator. My stomach was growling, letting me know that my bottomless pit was empty. Unable to make up my mind about what I wanted to eat, I began snacking right out of the packages as I threw something together.
A half hour later, my pig out session left me full and wasted on a cushion by the fire. I was thinking that another nap would sound good right about now when I heard a snowmobile pull up outside. It was after lunch, so it was probably my mom finally coming to check on me like she promised.
But when the door opened, the figure that walked in, brushing snow off their jacket, wasn’t my mom—it was Collin.
Poor Oliver was immediately rotated to the back burner of my mind. Seeing Collin made me bubble like a teapot ready to whistle.
He was still hot as ever, and I was still silently crushing on him from afar. I guess it was the occupational hazard that came with the territory of him being my brother’s best friend.
“Cariou, you look like shit,” he informed me, kicking off his boots.
“Gee, Col. I’m feeling a lot better, thanks for asking.”
