Black Hearts Red Read online

  “I am.” I nodded my head and tied my hair in a ponytail with the rubber band I’d found beside my bed last night. “If you don’t want to go, I can ask Amhan.”

  Amhan was one of the girls at school I’d become close to. She was bubbly and her never-ending energy made me think twice about drinking Red Bull. I didn’t drink the stuff, but I would to consider starting if I could keep up with her. It didn’t matter if we had an all-nighter, she was up the next morning as cheerful as if she’d had eight hours’ worth of sleep.

  Greyson shook his head and his fingers bounced against the table. “Oh come on, Ali, what kind of bodyguard would I be if I left you alone to fend for yourself?”

  “You’re not my bodyguard,” I said, throwing three Cheerios at him. “You’re an annoying puppy who can’t keep your eyes from checking all the girls out.”

  “What?” He said in a distracted voice, his left hand waving at the two girls seated two tables away.

  “See what I mean?” I teased, and watched as the girls checked my friend out and they both looked ready to take him up on any offer that he presented to them. “It’s hard enough that I have to hear the giggles in my dorm whenever they talk about you… Now I have to fend off these two women who look like they’d rather have you for breakfast instead of what’s on their plates.”

  “I can’t help it that I’m this hot.” Greyson smirked as he drank the chocolate milk I’d grabbed from the small refrigerator by the cashier. He’d be lost without it. Some people needed caffeine, Greyson needed chocolate milk as if it was his lifeline. “What’s gotten into your panties this morning?”

  I rolled my eyes at him. His sister was one of my besties, and if he wasn’t a boy that my father trusted, I wouldn’t be suffering his company any time soon.

  Plus, he was also interested in the study-abroad program that I’d been eyeing for a year now, so here we were.

  “Do you think it’s too early to tell them that I want to donate?” I’d been thinking about it since we left the orphanage yesterday. I attended tons of charity events throughout the years. I knew what they were for and the good that they did, but I was never the one to initiate something. That was more of my sister, Sofia’s, personality. She was the one who donated her time and energy for the causes that she believed in.

  Most of my life, I’d been a bystander.

  But something clicked inside of me yesterday.

  A switch had been turned on and I couldn’t stop it.

  Greyson turned his full attention on me and even if I was immune to his good looks, I couldn’t deny that he was a handsome guy. The combination of his green eyes and dark blonde waves were enough to make the girls fall at his feet. He was so like Uncle Xavier in his easygoing personality, but he also reminded me of Auntie Nalee’s serious side while he pondered my question.

  “We have to make sure that the funds get funneled to the expenses of the children. I’ve heard that some of these organizations are very corrupt. They keep millions for themselves. We’d need some help to make sure that the money’s appropriated properly.” When he spoke like this, it didn’t escape me that this was why he’d been accepted to all of the schools he’d applied to.

  All eight Ivy League schools granted him an in.

  MIT, Berkeley, Stanford, and Caltech also accepted him.

  He chose Cornell.

  I was happy for him.

  I wasn’t accepted to all of the schools I’d applied to.

  But there was only one I wanted.

  And I couldn’t wait to get back there in the fall.

  “I know Mom and Dad will be okay with it.” My parents were big on giving. “Grandpa will be good with it, too.” Since grandma passed away two years ago, Grandpa Sev wanted to continue the philanthropic efforts that Grandma left behind.

  “I didn’t know you had a Mother Teresa inside you,” Greyson commented, chomping on the breakfast sandwich he’d become accustomed to while we were here. Since he’d discovered the stuffed paratha, he’d become obsessed with it.

  “Damn, this bread is so good,” he sighed, devouring the Indian bread made of whole wheat, or white flour and stuffed with potatoes, cabbage, cauliflower, and a cottage cheese, or paneer, as Amhan called it when she explained it to us. “I want to fill my luggage with these.”

  I had no doubts that he would.

  “You know who’s really great at these things?” Greyson supplied, “I know you and he aren’t really talking right now, but aside from your parents, he’s the guy I’d go to ask for help on how to start a foundation.”

  “I’m not going for big.” I negated, I knew who he was talking about, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk about him. “I just want to give these kids a better chance at life. I don’t want to be ostentatious like him.”

  “Ostentatious is a big word for a business major like you,” Greyson joked and I wanted to spray water all over his face, from my mouth. “I didn’t know you read, my friend.”

  “Whatever,” I retorted. I read a lot of business magazines, whereas Greyson was more of the Harry Potter, David Baldacci, and spy novels’ creator Mick Herron fan. “I just feel like we’re so lucky and coming here, it’s made me see the world in a very different perspective.”

  My family had traveled the world. But we often vacationed in exotic and luxurious places. Switzerland in the winter, Martha’s Vineyard in the summer were our favorite places to visit. Anything that provided privacy was also a must. Dad hated the paparazzi prying on his family. As NFL’s Mighty Z, their golden quarterback, everyone wanted to know what he was doing. The fact that Grandpa was a tech mogul didn’t help quell the public’s interest in our family.

  Mom valued our privacy and she’d ensured that we lived a normal life.

  Well, as normal as our life could be, in the circumstances that we were in.

  My siblings and I grew up knowing that we were privileged. But we also knew about chores and responsibilities. We didn’t get everything we wanted. We had to work for them by getting good grades, behaving ourselves, and being respectful to everyone.

  “I get where you’re coming from, Ali.” Greyson’s face mirrored understanding. That was why he was one of my closest friends. I’d have loved for his sister, my BFF, Geneva, to have taken this trip with me, but she was backpacking in Europe.

  Asia wasn’t big on her list.

  Cornell had a summer-abroad program, and when I’d brought it up to Geneva, she said that Greyson was thinking of going too.

  I talked to my advisor about it and Berkeley was offering the same program, so I’d applied and here we were.

  “When we go back to the States, there is high probability that we’re not going to remember everything from this trip,” I said, sipping on the green tea latte that I loved from this café. “I’ll go on with my life, finish school, and maybe think of this place time and time again. I’ll sit in my classes and maybe when I’m bored, think of our wonderful time exploring this country.”

  “You’re pretty deep when you want to be.” His face lighting up with a sincere smile. I’d always been close to him, but this trip had brought us closer. I knew that my adventures here were better, more fun, and simply great because he was with me.

  “I’m no longer satisfied with just getting by and ignoring the realities of our world,” I stated, knowing that I’d been blessed compared to more than half the population of the country I was in. “I really want to help.”

  He crumpled the wrapper that his sandwich came in and stood up, “Alrighty, Mother Alissa, let’s get moving then. Let’s see what we can do to change the world.”

  “Namaste.” The little girl in the corner whispered to me.

  I could barely hear her voice because the bigger kids were louder, more gregarious, more active than her.

  I responded back, “Namaste.”

  Before I landed in Indira Gandhi International Airport, I’d only said Namaste in the yoga classes that my sister was so fond of. I went with Sofia to a couple of classes
. I still go with her when we are both home on break from school. Mom liked to go with us once in a while. It was our girl bonding time.

  I saw Greyson talking animatedly to a group of about ten boys. We’d bought a couple of surprises for the kids and Greyson cleared it with the director to make sure that it was okay to give them gifts.

  It took us an hour to get there. Amhan had classes today so she couldn’t come with us. She was the one who showed us this place. There were many orphanages in Rohini, and Amhan was somewhat hesitant to bring us here yesterday.

  I’d asked her about her parents, and a dark look had flittered over her face. She’d been silent for a few seconds, and then when she spoke she told me that her parents passed away when she was four. She’d grown up with her relatives, but when they couldn’t afford to keep her, they put her in an orphanage.

  You’d never know that the beautiful woman who wore colorful dresses and had the enthusiasm of Mary Poppins, a show that my sister and I watched reruns of, grew up in a place like this. She started working when she was ten and from there, applied for scholarships so she could keep going to school and eventually college.

  The red bindi that dotted her forehead was not just a beauty mark for her.

  She said that it also showed her Shakti, strength, that whatever life threw at her, she could overcome it as long as she worked hard.

  Poverty and affluence was clearly juxtaposed in India.

  Greyson and I had visited cities where majestic mosques and monuments were mesmerizing. The tourist spots were filled with so much history and they made you step back into a time where archaic structures were all the rage.

  I loved being inside them.

  But as soon as we stepped outside of them, I couldn’t ignore the emaciated children asking for food and money, the suffocating sense of reality that apartheidism was still rampant, and the fact that the smallest things I had in my purse could mean the world to these kids.

  I pulled out a small figurine from the Big Bazaar that Greyson and I had bought the gifts from.

  “A doll.” I said as I handed it to the little girl, her eyes alight with wonder, “Maybe you should name it. She’s a friend.”

  The director, a woman in her late 50s and the kindest eyes I’ve ever seen, said that we could give the kids gifts as long as we had enough for everyone.

  She didn’t want anyone to feel left out.

  Greyson and I weren’t ready yesterday.

  But today we had enough for fifty kids. We had to buy small toys so we could carry them when we walked along the alleys that led to the orphanage. The Uber driver couldn’t drop us off in front of the small building because the street was too narrow.

  The little girl reached for the toy, her hand was so tiny. The director said that she was eight, but she looked four to me. Most of the kids looked under age, a product of the environment that they grew up in. Whereas America had a problem with obesity, India had a problem with getting food to these kids.

  “Dost.” Her voice shook, and she waved a hand. I thought she was waving at me, but a few seconds later, another girl, of the same rumpled, tattered but clean dress, joined us. The joining girl held out her hand and I placed a tiny doll, the store clerk had affably named Indian Moana, into her hands.

  The joining girl let out a little yelp and said, “Dost” again.

  She waved and another girl joined.

  The same thing happened until half an hour later, I counted twenty girls holding the same doll, playing with the hair and adjusting its clothes as they smiled at me.

  I’d been to Interlaken many times. It’s located in the Bernese Oberland region of the Swiss Alps. The contrasting greeneries of the land and the blue skies were sights to behold. That was the place where I felt complete. It made me believe that I existed in this life because of it. Just to be in it and behold nature’s wonder.

  As the girls continued to peruse their toys, a few of them looked at me every few minutes and their smiles grew bigger.

  No.

  I was wrong.

  My life was far from complete.

  This. Right here.

  Bringing the smiles to these children, seeing hope and happiness in their weary eyes, this was why my life had meaning.

  This was why I existed.

  I thought of what Greyson said earlier, about the guy who I could go to, the one who was well-versed in starting foundations. I could donate money here and it would be a great start.

  But as I saw the spark in these children’s eyes, I knew that I could affect more if I asked him for his help. It’d been so long since I spoke to him for longer than a minute.

  I heard the excited screams of the boys in the other room, making me turn my head.

  Greyson had just handed them yoyo’s and cards that contained letters and numbers.

  We’d ordered food for lunch and dinner, and I knew that before the end of today, I’d be asking Amhan on ways to transfer money so these kids could continue to have food.

  I came to India to sharpen my business skills, to broaden my experience, and to learn how revolutionary thinking should be awarded instead of discouraged.

  When I got accepted to Berkeley Business School, my parents were so proud of me.

  But it was my grandfather who was my biggest cheerleader.

  I wasn’t into medicine like Sofia.

  I wasn’t into sports and tech like Nicholas.

  But I was into business like Grandpa Sev.

  He’d given me the words of wisdom to never stop learning, and to learn from the world. After all, he came to the United States from Poland as a jack-of-all-trades. He never thought that he’d be into computers and software, but when he became successful at it, he’d asked advice from the people whose minds made the economy roll.

  I came here to learn and I learned.

  I didn’t come here to find a purpose.

  But I did.

  Now it’s up to me to keep the ball rolling.

  And I knew that in order to do that, I’d have to ask the help of the man I’d avoided for years.

  The boy whose grey eyes still haunted my dreams.

  And made my heart weep.

  Matteo

  Happy Birthday. I hope you have a great day.

  Nine words.

  It was longer than anything she’s said or texted to me in years.

  I touched the screen of my phone to trace the words.

  Every year she sent a message. It fell on the second of July. My birthday.

  It didn’t matter where I was or where she was, but it mattered that she sent it.

  My friends sent the same words, but Ali’s text always weighed more, meant more, was just more.

  I was still ruminating on it when a sleepy voice nudged me out of my reverie.

  “You ready?” Nicholas asked. He was already geared up for the run.

  I nodded my head and offered him a cup. I’d gotten the coffee after I received his text back that he was coming down in ten minutes.

  “Gotta stretch your old bones, who knows if they’re creaky now since you’re twenty-four,” he said, tugging on his black gloves before grabbing the cup from me.

  “Fuck you,” I returned, my left ear might be 80% functional from a childhood fall from five flights of stairs, but I was still a hundred percent receptive to the insult.

  “Just sayin’, you’re gonna have to up your game to beat me this time around.” Shrugging his shoulders, he continued, “Kassius could beat you twice with the weak-ass run that you barely completed yesterday.”

  This time, I slapped his head covered with a black beanie, “Whatever. Kassius is still sleeping because of that run.”

  My cousin had bowed out of this early morning run, he had to save his energy and limbs for his competitions. Yesterday was more than enough for him.

  “Aww, fuck dude,” he complained as coffee dripped from his mouth. “I was drinking…”

  I ignored him, “I was off yesterday. On one run.” He beat me by fif
teen seconds and he acted like he won a world record.

  “Yeah yeah.” A smirk followed his words and I chose not to react. Nicholas liked to bait me, and while I was normally okay with it, today I was just feeling annoyed.

  “You okay?” That was the thing with my best friend, he didn’t miss much. “You look weird, like something’s bugging you.”

  Yeah. Your sister.

  Of course I couldn’t tell him.

  I couldn’t tell him that when he’d accidentally spilled that Alissa was spending the summer with Greyson, I wanted to hit something.

  Normally there was something to hit.

  A punching bag.

  My sparring partner.

  A person who wanted to fight me.

  A wall.

  Since we were here in Tignes, France for my birthday, the closest thing that I could hit was the poor excuse of a bag at the hotel’s gym. When I was done with it, the synthetic and natural fibers that filled the bag were scattered on the floor. I’d already asked the hotel receptionist to add it to my tab.

  Why was she even allowed to go away for two months?

  Why was Greyson with her?

  Was he with her now?

  I liked Greyson like I liked Sundays.

  Fleeting, never long enough.

  We all grew up somewhat together. Our parents were close friends, so we celebrated birthdays and holidays together. I was okay with Greyson, but when he’d gotten closer to Ali, I’d gotten more and more annoyed with him.

  He would say something, and I would always find a way to rebuttal.

  His sister was cool, Geneva never got on my nerves. But maybe it was because she was a girl and she didn’t have googly eyes every time Ali was nearby.

  I couldn’t talk to Nic about it. He was Ali’s brother.

  It wasn’t like he warned me against Ali.

  But he knew something had changed between his younger sister and I. And like the cool dude that he was, he’d wait until I brought it up. I never did. So he didn’t either.

  “I’m glad I’m here instead of bumming it around town this summer,” Nic said as we rode the lift. He rarely had days off. Even in the off-season he was training. My best friend was committed to his sport as I was committed to the family business. Nic helped in his grandfather’s company during the summer, but he’d blocked off this weekend for my birthday.