‘I bought some kale,’ he said. ‘Maybe you can go back to those smoothies instead of …’ he cleared his throat. ‘What you’re eating now.’
‘Ugh. No, thanks. What was wrong with me all that time? Having soya when I could’ve been having chocolate? That’s bad parenting, that is,’ she added, zipping up her bag again. ‘Seriously deranged behaviour from a teenager and you thought it was normal.’
She felt tears prickle her eyes.
Fatti: Don’t leave! Wanted to come and say goodbye but Ash’s at work and Adam’s getting a cold I think so don’t want to take him out. Message when you get to uni. Love you xx
Farah had managed to swing by but spent the entire time talking about Bubblee’s work schedule and how she was never around to help with Zoya. Mae shuddered at the name, haunted by her past obsession with soya and wondering whether this was just another one of her sister’s ways of testing her emotional resilience.
As Mae got out of the car at the station, her dad leaned over and beamed at her through the drizzle.
‘You have everything? Your toothbrush?’ he asked. ‘Your amma will be angry if you forgot it.’
‘She already asked me twice, Abba.’
‘Okay.’ He paused. ‘You are okay, yes?’
Why did her dad have to choose this moment to ask her? When her train was coming in six minutes, it was raining and the car’s engine was running.
‘Just fabbo, Pops.’ Mae blinked back the tears that really were in danger of falling this time. ‘You know. Nothing new’s easy, is it?’ she added.
What did she hope for? That from just a few words he’d get that things weren’t exactly the way she’d hoped they would be? That there was a sadness that had settled itself inside her and no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t shift it? She had begun uni feeling passionate about Media Studies but it just didn’t last. She seemed to have no friends, didn’t know who she was at university, and now she didn’t even know who she was at home either.
‘You’re a very good girl,’ he replied.
Mae felt perplexed at this, but her dad clearly thought that was the end of that as he told her to hurry up before she missed her train.
She stepped into the carriage that was full and took her seat by the aisle next to a boy listening to Eminem on his iPhone. The lump in her throat refused to budge because there was nothing she wanted more than to be sitting by the window – to turn her head away from the people shuffling in their seats, reading books, scanning their phones and eating crisps. She didn’t understand it. What did she have to be sad about, exactly? That she hadn’t made friends yet? That her sisters, who were all new mothers, were attentive to their babies? That even when they had asked her about university, they didn’t really pause to listen to her? It seemed so selfish of Mae. So frivolous. The old Mae would’ve just got on with things – forget that, these thoughts wouldn’t have even crossed her mind. What had happened to her? One of the few times that she had actually mentioned university she’d lied to her dad about her grades. Oh God, her grades. That was another thing that kept chomping at her sadness, turning it into anxiety. To think that her parents were helping her with uni costs, only for her grades to be sub-par. She’d have to do better. She had to try. It was when a poodle stopped by her feet and looked up at her with such doleful eyes that the lump seemed to burst and push the tears through her eyes.
‘I-I-I’m sorry,’ she gasped through her sobs.
The owner of the poodle, a man in his fifties wearing corduroys and a flat cap, sat on the aisle parallel to Mae. He didn’t seem to know what to do.
‘Would you like a tissue?’ he asked.
This just brought on a fresh wave of sobs as Mae nodded and he handed her a packet of Kleenex. She took one, blew her nose, and handed the rest of the packet back.
‘Keep them,’ he said.
‘Th-th-thank you,’ she managed to say.
The boy next to her just increased the volume of his music, angling his head towards the window.
‘Chocolate?’ the man asked, offering her a stick from his Kit Kat.
Mae shook her head as she put her hand out. ‘No, thank you.’
The man seemed confused at first, then pierced the foil and handed her two of the four fingers. The train pulled into the next stop and the man made a move to leave. As he got up he looked down at Mae and said: ‘Don’t you worry there. It’ll all be okay.’
With which he tugged on his poodle’s leash and left the train, dog in tow. Mae felt the heat on her face from the embarrassing tears that had just exploded and put her hands on her cheeks to try and cool them down. She took out her mirror.
‘Ugh.’
She leaned back and closed her eyes, wondering what had come over her. While she was at home she was convinced that everyone was being selfish, but maybe it was Mae who was self-involved? She even considered getting off at the next stop and going back to spend the rest of the Easter break with her family, as she’d first intended. Except she didn’t quite like the prospect of being shunted with the babies again. Cute as they were. Mae took a deep breath.
‘Pull yourself together,’ she whispered.
The boy next to her tutted and got up, walked to the next carriage and sat down there. Mae would’ve been offended if she wasn’t so glad to get the seat by the window. She shuffled over and got her mirror out again. A lot of people had got off at the previous stop, so the carriage was quieter. There was a man she noticed sitting diagonally opposite her who glanced at her as she took out her lip gloss. He had his phone in his hands, his fingers scrolling down the screen as if he was reading something. She applied the gloss, which didn’t really make much difference to her puffy eyes and face and as she decided to put concealer under her eyes she noticed the man with his phone looking her way and she wondered whether this was it. Maybe he found her attractive? Maybe he’d seen her crying on the train and felt sorry for her? Mae did what she’d never done before in her life: she crossed her legs, straightened her back and lengthened her neck in order to seem more attractive to him. He looked in his early thirties, which was old, but he wasn’t bad-looking. At nineteen years old, Mae had never had a boyfriend. She hadn’t even come close. A guy in high school had once asked her out and she was so horrified at the prospect that she told him he was gross and practically ran away from him. It made her feel bad because he wasn’t gross, and she did hope he hadn’t taken it personally, but he never did look her in the eye again. She blamed her parents and their upbringing. Having boyfriends was not allowed and Mae wasn’t a rock-the-boat type person. Today, however, felt different. Today she didn’t mind the idea of this random man looking at her. He could’ve maybe done with a shave and his eyes were kind of beady, plus the grey coat was too big for him but in that moment it was nice to be seen. She took out her kohl pencil and applied it in the rims of her eyes. The final touch was the blusher, which she brushed on maybe too vigorously, but she felt the overall effect wasn’t bad. In fact, she looked quite nice. Mae shut the mirror and took a deep breath as she glanced over at the man again. He was grinning now as he tapped on the phone and she felt a sense of unease. She watched as he scratched his head with his finger then looked under the fingernail, scraping whatever had gathered in there under his seat. Vom. Mae had to shake her head. First, she bursts into tears in public, then the next man that looks at her suddenly becomes a potential boyfriend. Boyfriend! Mae! As if.
‘Gross,’ she muttered as the man this time scratched the inside of his ear.
No, Mae had never been like Farah who only ever wanted to get married – and look how that worked out. Then there was Fatti who looked for love and found it with Ash. Despite the fear of her parents, she genuinely thought that she was more like Bubblee when it came to relationships. Just not that bothered. Like, whatever. Mae couldn’t help but feel now though that it would be nice to have someone to chill with, relax on her bed. Maybe in her bed. Her parents really would kill her if they even got a hint that the thought c
rossed her mind. Even Farah and Fatti wouldn’t approve, they were so traditional. Wasn’t that what university was about though? Living life? Doing things – even if you weren’t meant to do them? Her dad was right – she’d been a ‘good’ girl her whole life. Bubblee would scoff at that: Do you know how damaging it is to put women into these kinds of categories? As if exploring their identity in ways their families don’t agree with makes them bad. Mae knew she was quite attractive, she just never really made an effort, but maybe now it was time. She was nineteen, for God’s sake! She looked over at the man and realised now that actually he was kind of creepy. It didn’t matter, because the more she thought about it, the more it made sense: she would get back to university and make an effort to find a boyfriend and have a relationship. Somehow the idea of it felt easier than just making friends. People hooked up all the time at student bars so she’d just give that a go and see where it led. She imagined it was far easier to snog someone than have a conversation with them, so whatever. The fact of the matter was that she did not want to be alone any more, so she was going to buck up, stop complaining and make some changes. The train pulled into the next station as the creepy man got up and looked at her again, but this time there was disgust on his face and Mae’s heart thudded, unnerved by a look of such loathing. What the hell had she done to him? It took her a few more stops but she shrugged it off, told herself it was nothing, and anyway, who cared? Now she had a plan for university and it would change everything.
Sistaaaas
Mae: Got 2uni. Soz cudn’t stay longer.
Fatti: We miss you xxx
Bubblee: Join some organisations! I just signed up to one for modern female artists.
Farah: How much time will that take up?
Bubblee: Only once a month. And then some volunteering, but that’ll only be one weekend a month.
Farah: A whole weekend?? You have a baby, you know …
Ugh, Mae thought. Whatever she decided to do had to be better than what her sisters were doing, at least.
Chapter Three
‘How was the baby today?’ asked Bubblee, collapsing on the sofa. ‘Sorry I missed her bedtime.’
‘The baby has a name, you know,’ replied Farah.
Her back was turned as she washed up the last of the bottles and wiped her brow.
‘I know,’ sighed Bubblee. ‘I gave birth to her, remember?’
For a moment, Bubblee wondered if she should hang on to her annoyance about Farah’s constant digs, just for the sake of it, but she didn’t want to spend her energy combating disgruntled sisters. There were other places to spend it.
‘She was being a bit whiny but not so bad,’ replied Farah after a pause.
She came and sat down on the sofa opposite Bubblee, put her head back and closed her eyes. Bubblee was on her phone and swiped right. It was a match. Bubblee had heard plenty of dating disaster stories – she’d even seen some of the romcoms that Farah liked to watch in the evenings when Bubblee was in and out, working. The idea of dating, and men in general, had always filled Bubblee with a powerful sense of contempt. Watching her twin sister get married and set up a house with a man who was – she was sorry to speak ill of the dead – not Farah’s equal, even made her marginally disdainful of her own sex. It had all seemed so mundane to her when she was at university, then later, when she was honing her artistic craft, it didn’t get any less dull. The idea of someone being a part of her daily life, watching her, interfering with their unsought opinions, made her angry enough to not want to even give it a chance. Men, in her experience, hampered things. And women, she witnessed with increasing annoyance, more often than not allowed it. Bubblee would never be one of those women, and the only way she was sure not to become like that was to not date at all. Then along came Zoya. Little, monkey-faced, chubby, cranky, saliva-spouting, inquisitive-looking Zoya. What had begun as a favour for her sister – and considering Bubblee was a virgin, the favour wasn’t to be taken lightly – had become a new life for Bubblee. She realised that life could take twists and turns and that some of the things you couldn’t control could still work out pretty well.
When Bubblee pushed their baby out into this world she didn’t realise she’d also pushed out a part of her cynicism and a whole load of reluctance. She had doubted her decision to carry her sister and brother-in-law’s baby, and that doubt had turned into her biggest source of happiness. So, Bubblee rethought her whole approach to life. It just so turned out that dating was actually fun. Yes, it was pretty problematic as a social construct given that women often seemed to be the ones who had to wait for men to make the first move, but it was what you made of it that mattered. And Bubblee never did wait for the men. She’d drop them a message as quick as she’d drop them when they were rude or obnoxious. As she tapped a new message to her latest match, she wondered at the irony of the fact that it took having a baby to be bothered with a man.
‘What are you smiling at?’ asked Farah.
‘This guy – listen: “biggest turn-ons: a woman who stays in shape and knows what cryptocurrency is.” What a loser.’
She hadn’t looked up at Farah, but if she had she’d have seen her swallow hard with a mild look of panic on her face.
‘Do men think we’re meant to find that attractive? “Oh, yes, please. Thanks for appreciating my body and my intellect.” Get a lobotomy, please.’
When Farah didn’t answer Bubblee looked up at her. ‘Not the way it was in your day.’
Farah managed a forced smile.
‘You should give this a shot at some point,’ added Bubblee. ‘If you feel up to it.’
‘No. I’ll leave that to you.’ With that Farah got up and stretched her back. ‘I’m so tired. I’m going to bed.’
Bubblee looked back at her phone. ‘Night.’
With which Farah left and went to bed.
Farah was tired. She did want to sleep. She had checked up on Zoya before getting into bed, made sure the baby monitor was on, checked the house temperature was between eighteen and twenty degrees and closed her eyes. Half an hour later she still hadn’t heard Bubblee come up the stairs and go to her room. It was ten o’clock so she guessed it was too early for her. Nowadays Farah was ready to go to bed by seven o’clock if she could but there were always chores waiting, days to map out, online grocery shopping to do. Even when Zoya had gone to sleep there was no guarantee that Farah could do all these things uninterrupted, and often she’d spend up to an hour trying to put the baby back to sleep, especially when she woke up in the evenings. It was, of course, part and parcel of motherhood. Sometimes Farah looked at her baby’s face and was so overwhelmed with love for her it brought tears to her eyes. Fresh anxieties would occur to her as well: what if the blanket suffocated her at night? Is that red mark just a rash or something more sinister? Why is her poop coming out so dark today? Farah would be writing an email to Mamas & Papas about their out-of-stock fleece onesie and she’d have to rush up to make sure Zoya was still breathing. Her mind, she found, was not her own any more. Now, lying in bed, Farah missed her husband. She wished he could’ve seen the way their baby snatched at her toy giraffe, how she settled on Farah’s chest and went to sleep; she wished he could smell the top of Zoya’s head. But the idea of dating! What was Bubblee thinking? Why would Farah want a man to come into her life and disrupt her already frantic days? It was the last thing Farah needed, and certainly the last thing she wanted.
Except that she couldn’t help but be surprised that Bubblee did seem to want it. When she had first mentioned it to Farah, Farah had looked at Bubblee as if she wasn’t her sister at all. She had written it off as a glitch and pushed down any worry that Bubblee might actually be serious, because Farah had other things to worry about, like Zoya’s new baby formula. But now the worry was back. And it had no right to be. Farah took a deep breath and told herself that she should not overthink things, that life had a way of working itself out. She reminded herself of her baby, sleeping in the next room, and a wave of grati
tude came over her. It was with thoughts of her itinerary the following day that Farah drifted into sleep, only to be woken up by crying at one in the morning. She put her hand out for the baby monitor and tumbled out of bed, managing to drag herself into Zoya’s room. Without putting the light on, and being careful to stay out of Zoya’s view, she patted her baby’s chest lightly. Zoya continued to cry for a good ten minutes before she began to settle as Farah managed to open her eyes. It was when Zoya had drifted back to sleep that Farah realised Bubblee hadn’t got up, even though Zoya had clearly been crying for a while. Farah crept out of the room and quietly opened the door to Bubblee’s room only to see that she was fast asleep, sleeping mask on and, it seemed, ear plugs in. Despite the fact that it was the middle of the night and Farah was exhausted, she found she still had the capacity to be annoyed. She would’ve slammed the door behind her if it wouldn’t wake the baby again. Instead she switched on the light.
‘Huh, what? who?’
Bubblee sat up and patted the bed with her hands before taking off her mask, only to have to shield her eyes from the glare of the light.
‘What? Are you okay? Is it Zoya?’
Bubblee sprang out of bed to rush to the baby’s side except that Farah hadn’t moved.
‘It was Zoya, she’s probably been crying for ages, did you even hear?’
‘Oh.’ Bubblee blinked hard and rubbed her face. ‘She okay?’
‘Obviously,’ replied Farah.
Bubblee flopped back into bed and was putting her mask back on when Farah said: ‘Is that it?’
‘Hmm?’
‘Do you even have your monitor on?’
‘What? Yeah, no. Why?’
‘No?’ asked Farah.
‘No.’
‘So it’s always up to me to get up when she cries?’
‘Huh? We don’t live in a mansion. It’s not like she’s in the East Wing,’ replied Bubblee.
‘Nice ear plugs.’
‘I went to sleep late.’
The Hopes and Triumphs of the Amir Sisters Page 3