I’m tired of being quiet about who I am. Iranian people aren’t quiet. We’re storytellers. Jahan says we have a tradition of oral storytelling. That’s what I’ve been doing in here, isn’t it? Telling you my story. I may not be a brave hero like Rostam or a king like Cyrus, but damn it, talking to you today, telling you my story, is the most Iranian thing I’ve ever done.

I don’t want to hide those parts of myself anymore. I want my family to see me. I want them to see me kissing Jackson in that car, blackmail be damned. I want them to see me riding on Valerio’s motorcycle, dancing late into the night with Jahan and Neil at Rigatteria. I’m proud of that person. That person shouldn’t be a stranger to them.

It’s hard enough living one life; no one should have to go through the trouble of living two.

I’m guessing our time here is over, since you keep looking at the door.

Maybe that’s the magic spell. Time. Maybe real problems aren’t solved in those big fights, those loud moments, but in the time apart.

No, I don’t need any more time. I’m ready. Let’s go.

Soraya

MY PHONE! THANK YOU! Ugh, I have so many texts. Madison really blew up my phone. She’s so needy.

Hey! Look, Mom, there’s—

Afshin Azadi

AMIR!

Amir

Maman! Baba! Soraya!

Jahan

12:37 P.M.

CIAO, AMIR! CIAO from Cleveland. How are you? How is Rome? I heard you were going up to Neil and Francesco’s mountain home—Franny was talking about it with someone the other night. Give them a big kiss for me.

I miss you, too. I love that you texted me that out of the blue. I miss you, and I miss Neil and Francesco, and I miss Rome.

I wish I’d gotten to say goodbye to you properly at my party the other night. I’m sorry if I seemed sort of cold or awkward. It was really sweet of you to come, and it was really not sweet of me to be in a bad mood. I had my weird reasons at the time. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.

What matters is that you, sir, were a phenomenal friend this summer. I’ll never forget when I first brought you to that dinner party. You remember? The one where you spilled all the meatballs? After you went to change your shirt, some snide asshole asked if you were going to be a liability, and Neil and I went off on him. A liability? Che cazzo dici? What the fuck? That boy is our friend.

And then you came back from Giovanni’s room looking all spiffy in that soft blue shirt, and that was it. The rest of our summer was written.

We did have an incredible summer, didn’t we? Yeah. We did. It was incredible. You were a gift to us this summer, really. Don’t ever forget that. You are a fucking gift. People like you and me don’t hear that enough.