by Amal Awad
Lara’s voice is quiet. ‘I don’t want to mess him around, but I don’t think I could ever marry him.’
‘Lara,’ Samira says, ‘you’re obsessed with each other.’
Lara looks to me and I can guess what she is worried about. I shrug, because the past is so far in the distance, it’s a speck. But the exchange annoys Samira.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, he was never mine,’ she says. ‘Not in any way. His proposal was ridiculous.’
‘Hakeem proposed to you? When did that happen?’ I say, blindsided that Samira kept this from me.
‘Out of obligation,’ Samira says, ‘because he felt guilty for being so close to me.’
‘It’s not that,’ says Lara. ‘Honestly. It’s me, my life. I’m finally doing what I want.’
Samira’s eyes meet mine again and I can tell she is beseeching me to fix this.
I search for the right words. I know it’s not Samira’s innocent history with Hakeem that claims Lara’s worry right now. She’s worried that her fragile love affair will become a different kind of love story and that softer Hakeem will become fundy Hakeem again. I want to reassure her. Hakeem is different in the same way I am: a skin has been shed. Who knows, really, what is left to uncover? All I know is that I will not go back, and I don’t think he will either.
Seeing Lara’s look of quiet despair, my protectiveness kicks in. ‘Lara, he was always yours.’
Lara looks put out. ‘I feel like I’m treading water.’
I remember Lara’s evangelism about Samira and Hakeem, and how on a difficult afternoon in my kitchen, I called her out on it. I told her what she struggled to see herself: she was in love with Hakeem. Therein lies the beauty of people underestimating you: they don’t realise how much you see.
‘I’m sorry I was mean about it all those years ago,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry about how I behaved, full stop.’
Lara rolls her eyes, but her body language is defensive. ‘Don’t be silly. You were a bit Neighbourhood Watch about everything, but I never took it personally. And you were right. I obviously liked the guy. I mean, after I ran into him when we were both single, things escalated pretty quickly.’
‘People like Hakeem can only meet the truth in time,’ I tell Lara. ‘There was no way he could love you as he was. He wouldn’t know what to do with you.’
I turn to Samira and study her, wondering where this moment is taking her.
‘I believe what I’m seeing with you two,’ I say, turning my focus back to Lara.
‘I do love him,’ says Lara. ‘He shits me to tears sometimes. But then I think about how he is really there for me, how he doesn’t try to change me.’
A few seconds later, Samira splinters the moment. ‘Um, hello? Since when did you two become besties? I’m right here.’
It cracks open the sombre mood and our laughter quickly rises to fill the gap. Lara wrestles Samira in a hug. She motions towards me and I crowd into the embrace. There are many things I look back on with unease, but whatever happened in the past, I know it has to be made up of something good to have friends like these.
Chapter 15
Every opportunity is a new beginning.
On Tuesday, Luke steals me away from the bakery to help with a last-minute order.
‘I thought we don’t do those,’ I say, following him in to the chocolate studio.
‘We do when it’s for the boss. Fancy event, and I’m already behind.’
The chocolates are made – milk chocolate ganache hearts, which we pack into little white boxes, topping them with a red bow. It’s an easy task. Presentation has always been my forte.
When we’re joined by Inez, she takes my instruction without fuss. Then Luke dashes off to complete another task, leaving us alone in the studio.
‘So, remember how I told you I have an idea about what I want to do for my own experiment?’ Inez says, a bit cautious.
‘Yes. But I didn’t want to harass you about it.’
‘Promise me you won’t freak out.’
‘I won’t freak out.’
‘Well, you know how you’re going to get your trapeze on with me.’
‘Uh-huh.’ I’m not ready for a sexy lyra class, so I agreed to trapeze.
‘Well, I um … I’ve been doing circus stuff with a twist.’
I stop mid-ribbon tie and look up. ‘I’m listening.’
Inez makes a face, curling her hand below her chin. ‘I’m doing burlesque.’
I laugh. ‘Is that it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t know what to expect.’
Inez always seems so quietly confident, so I figured whatever she was doing it was going to be outside the box.
‘Well, this is scary. It’s showing a lot of skin. And it’s performance. Very different to learning the hoop in a class full of women.’
‘You’re probably the most beautiful woman I know, inside and out. I’m sure no one will be able to take their eyes off you.’
Inez smiles, biting her lip. ‘Will you come? To the performance? It’s not for ages, but will you?’
‘Of course.’
Inez abandons the boxes she’s working on and pulls me in for a fierce hug. I laugh as she sways me from side to side, but then Luke sweeps in.
‘Jesus, what are you doing? We’re in a rush!’
Inez waits for Luke to leave again, then conspiratorially leans towards me. She describes the outfit she’ll be wearing for the performance – a mermaid-like diamante-and-jewel-encrusted bodysuit. Slowly, the layers will be peeled away.
‘But I don’t think I’ll go full nude,’ Inez explains, like she’s ordering a sandwich, and I marvel, astonished at the reminder of how differently women negotiate their bodies and what they show of them.
Then my mind wanders to Luke and Kat, who are yet to do their own experiments.
‘What do you think we can do about them?’ I say to Inez. ‘Luke is unapproachable about it, and Kat says there’s nothing she hasn’t tried.’
Inez looks thoughtful. ‘That’s not exactly true. But it’s a delicate situation.’
‘Meaning?’
‘We got approached by a food channel to do a segment once and I could see Kat wanted to do it, but they wanted to doll her up and she got upset.’
‘Doll her up?’
Inez mentally calculates, still working on a box. ‘Well, what I mean is, she felt judged. But I saw how excited she was to do it.’
‘So, what happened?’
‘She said no, and Luke and I didn’t want to step in and take her place, so the opportunity died.’
‘Kat would’ve been great.’ I can picture it clearly. She is naturally confident, warm and charismatic, and so highly skilled. I’d watch her read a telephone book.
‘Yep. So anyway, no one is free of desire. There’ll be something Luke wants too.’
When we’re done, Luke tasks me with making the delivery. ‘Can you manage on your own? You can take an Uber.’
‘I thought you said it was for Maggie.’
‘It’s for Leo. The silent boss,’ he says, his expression grim.
It’s only a ten-minute walk but there are 300 boxes, so I agree to the Uber. Luke takes hold of the bags and leads me out. ‘You’ll need to say a password. OK?’
‘Yes, I know. I’ve been there before.’
Luke seems taken aback. ‘To the speak-easy?’
‘My friend sings there sometimes.’
‘Right. There’s your ride.’
Inside the venue, I’m met by a man who looks like he’s in charge. He scurries towards me. ‘I’m Dominic. You’re the chocolates? Can you help me set them up?’
Dominic takes two bags off me then points towards the end of the room. ‘Start there. Two boxes for each setting.’
‘But they’re the same chocolates.’
Dominic stares at me blankly. ‘What?’
‘People will be getting two boxes of the same chocolates.’
&
nbsp; ‘Too many words,’ Dominic says, then he sweeps off, crinkling bags in hand.
‘What’s the event?’ I call after him, but he dismisses me with a swinging bag.
‘It’ll be fine,’ he yells. ‘Just do it.’
‘O-K.’
I start at the corner table, methodically placing the red-ribboned boxes in concentric circles.
‘It’s an event to promote a new product. The theme is love,’ comes a familiar voice. I look up to see Leo walking towards me. He’s wearing tailored pants for a change, not jeans, and a nice blue dress shirt. I can’t help admiring him, fully understanding Inez’s attraction, even if I don’t share it in the same way.
‘I’m sorry I was late,’ I say.
‘You’re not, it’s OK,’ he says. ‘But you’re going to hate me in a second.’
‘Why? What’s wrong?’
Leo winces. ‘How many boxes did you make?’
‘Three hundred.’
‘I need another hundred.’
‘OK.’ I immediately do the calculations. ‘We always make extra, so I’ll rush back and see what I can put together.’
‘How soon?’
‘An hour?’
Leo studies his watch. Then he looks up and places his hands on my shoulders. ‘Thanks, I owe you one.’
‘Not at all.’
The next day, a flower delivery arrives for me. Inez is the first to come over and a moment later Kat joins us, tea towel in hand. Luke shakes his head. ‘Guys. They’re just flowers.’
It’s a simple bunch with a bare-bones note.
Sahar,
Thank you for saving my butt last night.
Leo
I immediately look to Inez, and see a question in her expression.
Kat raises an eyebrow. ‘Something you’re not telling us, Sahar?’ she says, taking hold of the card.
‘He’s saying thank you.’ I hand the flowers to Inez and take back the card.
Inez breathes in the non-existent scent. ‘Oh my.’
Luke is still working, but he indicates the flowers and addresses me. ‘Why is Leo sending you flowers?’
‘Because he stuffed up the order last night and I fixed it.’
Luke stops what he’s doing. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I came back and made another hundred boxes.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Don’t get mad at me; it wasn’t my mess. Someone ordered the wrong amount.’
‘Why didn’t you call me?’
‘Because we had chocolates left over and I only needed to make a few more. What’s the big deal?’
‘Next time, call me.’
‘Sorry,’ I say, a bit stunned by his response. ‘I didn’t want to bother you.’
But he seems frustrated. ‘I need to know these things.’
Which is fair enough. I should have let him know, so I murmur an apology and he returns to his task without making more of it.
Inez bites back a smile, still drinking in the flowers. ‘He’s hot and classy,’ she says quietly.
I seek refuge in the pantry, where I pull out my phone and search for Leo’s number. Then I type a simple text to say thanks. It’s not a romantic gesture on his part, but I’m touched. I’ve never received a flower delivery before. I’ve never been the special one.
Chapter 16
If you have spent your life thinking about the next one, what does that say about your experience of this one?
On Saturday night, Inez comes over to Lara’s apartment and we get ready together for a night out with Kat and Luke. In my bedroom, she mournfully assesses my clothing options. I have laid out two outfits, both involving jeans.
‘What happened to the dresses you bought?’
On Thursday night, when the shops in the CBD were open until late, Inez and I caught a bus into town where she shepherded me through the major department stores and every clothing store in between. We discovered that I gravitate towards jeans in a variety of colours, and tops in bright shades. Inez nodded her approval but grew frustrated by the repetition. ‘We need to get you something for a night out.’
This proved challenging. I rejected anything too short, too tight or too revealing. Eventually, we found some knee-length dresses that Inez was unconvinced by, but she had to concede because we were running out of time and still needed to buy shoes – casual, work and play.
Now she wants to see the dresses and the black shiny high heels I bought to go along with them.
‘You can’t wear jeans.’
‘What are they going to do? Not let me in?’
‘Basically, yes.’
I look at what Inez is wearing, and it’s far more glamorous than a jeans-and-top combo, no matter how shiny or bright. ‘You look really good,’ I tell her, admiring her satin baby-doll dress. Inez is fit. She isn’t curvy, and her breasts are tiny, but a push-up bra gives her chest some height, a bronze-coloured glitter eye shadow makes her eyes pop, and sexy high heels that buckle at the ankle complete the look. She falls back onto my bed and waits, feet tapping against the air.
I reluctantly pack away the jeans and bring out the dresses. Inez gets me to hold them up against my body. One is a bright red baby-doll type dress with a belt.
Inez shakes her head. ‘Too Sunday picnic, though I could do a killer red lip.’
The other is a black shift dress with lace around the V-neck and a strip just under the breasts.
Inez makes a face and sighs. ‘Hold on,’ she says, getting to her feet. She leaves the room and returns half a minute later with a beaming Lara. But then Lara takes in the options laid out on the bed and her expression transforms to one of alarm.
‘Babe, no. We can do better than this.’
Lara opens up her closet to me. ‘To the left is the stuff I used to wear but shouldn’t have. To the right is my current, sensible way of dressing.’ She gives Inez a mournful look. ‘I try to act my age.’
Inez does a stocktake of Lara’s outfits, pulling out ones here and there to inspect them. If they pass the test, she places them on the bed. By the end of the inspection she presents me with three options: a tight, mid-thigh satin number with embroidered birds of paradise in metallic fuchsia; a blue, shimmery, floaty dress made of chiffon with large sleeves and a plunging neck; and a figure-hugging black dress with threads of glitter that will stop just above the knees.
Beside me, Lara, her arms crossed, her eyes wide, nods her approval. ‘My pick is the black. Sexy but not too daunting for a newbie.’
Inez smiles. ‘Agreed. Sahar?’
‘I guess,’ I say, but Inez is already shepherding me out of Lara’s bedroom. She calls out to Lara. ‘I need a chair to do make-up.’ Then she turns back to me. ‘And remember to take your flats, Sahar. You’re going to hate those heels by the end of the night.’
I dress quickly, staring longingly at my boring purchase from last Thursday.
‘You look great, don’t second-guess it,’ Inez says as she pushes me into a dining chair.
I struggle to sit still as she applies my make-up. I don’t think I’m nervous. And it feels strange to be showing my legs. But even before I put on the dress, I felt antsy, like I wanted to skip ahead to the end of the night, which is a worry given it hasn’t even begun.
‘Oh my God, what’s up with you?’ Inez says as she wipes mascara from above my eyelid for the third time.
‘I don’t know.’
Inez stops and leans back to inspect me. ‘It’s OK. We’re going to have fun.’
‘I know. I’m not worried.’
‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,’ Inez says, returning her focus to my eyes. The pressure of the pencil against my skin is pleasant and calming.
‘Thanks for taking me out.’
‘I’m not taking you out. You’re coming out with us.’
Inez uses a little brush on my eyelids, then leans back to assess the result. She looks satisfied but continues to study me. ‘You are a total hottie on a normal
day, but now you have make-up by Inez. We are ready to go.’
Inez gives me a rundown on what to expect as we approach the queue. ‘It’s a club, so there’s a bar and a dance floor, and it will be noisy. And guys will try to buy you drinks. Only let them if you’re there to watch the bartender make the drink and hand it to you.’
From the outside, the club looks like any ordinary brick short-storey building, but for the fancy sign that reads the name: Ocean.
We take our place at the end of the queue and Inez cranes her neck to do a quick inspection. ‘Shouldn’t be too long.’
Looking around me, I’m glad Inez convinced me to wear a dress; no one here is wearing jeans. I’m regretting the heels already.
‘Told you,’ Inez says when she catches me inspecting my shoes.
As we approach the doorman, a bulky bouncer who looks a bit bored, Inez adjusts my hair, then tops up her lipstick. I can hear the music from out here, a thin layer of sound, and I wince at the thought of how loud it’s going to be inside. When it’s our turn, Inez smiles at the doorman, and without a word, he lifts the rope and indicates to the door.
The air inside is thick and smoky, the music loud, filling the entire space from floor to ceiling. It’s also dark but for a flood of lights at the bar, which takes up a generous amount of space against a wall covered in shelves housing a variety of bottles. Beside the bar is a small stage where a man with multiple piercings and oversized headphones is DJing. I take a look around and see that the rest of the club is a dance floor surrounded by dozens of tables and chairs, some high, some low. The space is larger than I anticipated, and teeming with people who seem mainly to be in their late teens and twenties.
I struggled enough with getting used to big fat Arab weddings where the music was delivered by a very loud and live band – but at least the music was good and there was mezze.
Kat and Luke have secured a table and they wave us over. As we approach, I wonder at the low lighting and pumping, invasive music. How can anyone communicate in here, let alone enjoy a conversation? When I yell this to Inez, she shakes her head then yells back, ‘No one’s here for conversation. They’re here to get smashed and hook up. You get used to the noise.’