‘Men do need space, Mae.’
‘Abba,’ interjected Bubblee. ‘That’s ridiculous. You know it is.’
‘Thank you,’ replied Mae.
Their mum pointed to both of them. ‘See?’ she said to her husband. ‘This is what happens when you let girls go to university.’
‘Maybe we should let Mae be here for more than five minutes before we all start arguing,’ replied Farah, giving Zoya to her returning sister.
Zoya started crying. ‘What do I do with her?’ said Mae.
‘Don’t worry, she’ll get used to you,’ said Bubblee laughing, but Mae couldn’t deal with someone crying on the outside the way she was crying on the inside so handed her to Bubblee.
‘Just going to put my stuff away. In my hole,’ Mae added, flashing a look at her mum.
She sat in the room, with its curtains still drawn, and looked around the tiny space. She rested her elbow on her suitcase because there was room for little else other than the single bed and a small table next to it. How is this happening? She took out her phone, hoping she might have a message from Ji Su, but there was nothing. What had made her want to kiss her? Was it actual attraction or because Ji Su was the only one who seemed to understand Mae? She just made her feel so comfortable. So understood.
It was almost time for dinner so Mae decided she’d just get into the pyjamas she’d left at home last time she was here. As she put them on it became a bit of a struggle to get them past her thighs.
‘What the …?’ she mumbled, trying to shift them past what was now bulging flesh. ‘What is going on? Seriously? On top of everything else?’
‘Why is it so dark in here?’ said Bubblee, charging into the room and stretching over the bed to pull the curtains back. She then pressed herself against the wardrobe because of the lack of room for her and a struggling Mae.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
‘My stupid pyjamas.’
By this time Farah and Fatti were at the door as well, though unable to come into the actual room. Mae pulled her legs out of the pyjamas and threw them on the bed. ‘Mum’s only gone and shrunk them in the wash. I loved that pair as well.’
There was a collective pause as Mae rummaged for the leggings she’d just taken off.
‘Are you actually joking?’ said Bubblee.
‘What? Something wrong with leggings?’
‘Mae …’ began Farah.
‘Yes?’ said Mae, getting increasingly agitated with all these people around her and now her favourite pyjamas being ruined.
Everything was ruined.
‘Do you think it might be something else?’ said Fatti.
‘What are you on about?’ said Mae. ‘Fats, do you think they can be stretched back to their normal size? Ugh. I really do love them, you know.’
‘Mae,’ exclaimed Bubblee, almost letting out a laugh. ‘Your pyjamas haven’t shrunk, you idiot. You’ve only gone and gained …’ Bubblee looked at her up and down, ‘like, fifteen pounds.’
Mae’s face fell. ‘What? Shut up. I have not.’
She looked around to Farah and Fatti for support but it didn’t seem to be coming. Fatti looked a little distressed. Farah had her ‘mum’ look, not saying a word, waiting for Mae to come to her own conclusion.
‘You guys are idiots,’ said Mae. ‘Except for you, Fats, obvs. How have I gained fifteen pounds?’
Bubblee picked up the discarded pyjamas. ‘These are not shrunken. And nor are you, quite frankly.’
‘Bubblee,’ said Fatti. ‘You still look great, Mae. Don’t worry.’
‘Except that’s not the point,’ said Farah. ‘You’re the last person I expected to fill your body with junk. You were always so conscientious with your kale smoothies and spinach concoctions.’
‘That was weird,’ replied Mae. ‘I didn’t know what I was missing out on.’
‘Yeah but …’ began Fatti. ‘You were so obsessed with it, Mae.’
Mae recalled the carrot sticks she’d offer to her sisters when looking at them in disgust as they put another onion bhaji in their mouth; the way her dad would stockpile the necessary fruits and vegetables for her; how keenly she looked for gluten-free products. That Mae and that lifestyle felt like another’s. Almost as soon as she got to uni it all fell through. She’d been out one night, on her own, feeling so hungry and despondent at her lack of friends, when she passed a kebab shop. Her stomach had been growling and she thought: one doner kebab won’t hurt.
And it didn’t.
‘Are they always this delicious?’ she asked the Al-Kebabish’s owner in wonder, who in turn looked at her, confused.
After that day, she never looked at another bag of kale.
‘And now …’ continued Farah.
‘You’ve gone completely the other way,’ Farah finished. She paused. ‘Are you okay? I mean, are you happy?’
That’s when it dawned on Mae as she looked down at her body. Had she really gained so much weight? She wore leggings most of the time, and most of her skirts had elastic waists. Her tops were never fitted.
‘Oh my God, are you saying I’m fat?’ exclaimed Mae.
‘Not fat exactly,’ replied Farah. ‘Just, you know, healthier than you were before.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Bubblee. ‘Chill out. Fatti’s not the only chunkster in the family now.’
‘I mean, are you chunky?’ wondered Farah, tilting her head sideways and taking in the view of Mae’s bare legs.
‘No,’ added Fatti, having gone a shade of red. ‘There’s nothing wrong with some extra curves, anyway.’
Mae dropped down on her bed, but ended up sitting on the lid of the suitcase. ‘Does that mean I have to chuck out the pyjamas?’
‘I’ll take them, don’t worry,’ replied Bubblee, picking them up. ‘They are quite fun.’
‘It’s all those doner kebabs I’ve been having,’ replied Mae.
‘Guess you’ll have to give them up,’ replied Farah.
Mae snorted. ‘As if.’
‘That’s my girl,’ said Fatti, pushing past Bubblee to give Mae a kiss on the head.
Despite her sisters’ looks, Mae didn’t care that she’d gained weight – aside from the fact that her clothes weren’t fitting her. Ji Su had liked her, after all, just the way she was. Perhaps Mae’s attraction to her was for this very reason: she saw no need for Mae to change or be something other than what she was. And it was a relief. Mae leaned her head against Fatti’s and wanted to cry and tell her everything that had happened.
‘Oh, Adam’s crying. Time for his feed.’
With which Fatti manoeuvred past Bubblee, almost elbowing her on the way out – by accident – and went to check on her baby.
‘Come on then, chunky,’ added Bubblee. ‘Let’s celebrate your return and end of year success.’ Mae managed to get up as Bubblee put her arm around her. ‘I really am proud of you. You survived the jungle that is the first year. Now you can survive anything.’
Mae wasn’t quite sure that she’d survive the summer with her family when she woke up to the sounds of babies crying.
‘Ow,’ she exclaimed as she hit her head on the shelf above her when she got up.
No space was safe in this room. It was eleven o’clock in the morning but she pulled the duvet over herself. Five minutes later the door opened and her mum exclaimed: ‘Do you know what time it is? Your abba and I have to go shopping. Fatti has gone to pick up Ash’s children because he’s working and Farah has a dentist appointment so they’ve left the babies with me. You look after them.’
‘What?’ Mae reared her head from her refuge.
‘You think you’ll just sit around all summer and not help? Mae, university has made you selfish. Think about the family.’
Oh, now her mum was talking about helping the family? What about the fact that her mum and dad had kept Mae awake with all the noises coming from their bedroom? Mae couldn’t help but let out a reflexive moan at the memory.
‘Don’t make that no
ise.’
‘I could say the same to you,’ mumbled Mae.
‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ said Mae, pushing her duvet to one side, reminding herself that her parents had funded her first year at uni and she owed them now. Big time. ‘What could I possibly have to say?’ she sighed.
She went downstairs and looked at Zoya and Adam on their playmat.
‘What do you do with these babies then?’ she asked, putting a piece of generously buttered toast in her mouth. ‘Can’t they just lie there and, like, chill for the rest of the day?’
‘Here,’ said her mum, shoving a piece of paper into Mae’s hands. ‘Instructions from Farah and Fatti. You girls and your modern ways. We never had to give people lists before.’
Then her mum spouted off a list of things that had to be done: feeding times, when to change the babies’ nappies, where the nappies were. Zoya had a sore bottom so extra Sudocrem. Adam keeps throwing up after food so feed him slowly. On and on the list went until her mum’s words became white noise.
‘Are you listening?’ said her mum.
‘With rapture,’ replied Mae, slumping on the sofa. ‘Are you going shopping or leaving the country?’
‘We are having lunch out.’
‘Excuse me?’
Their parents never ate out. They just didn’t believe in paying money for food that was made by a stranger when they could prepare something better at home. And cheaper. Mae’s dad had meandered down the stairs, kneeled on the floor to kiss both the babies, taken his wife’s hand and left with her, giving Mae a vague wave goodbye. She watched in disbelief as she heard the front door shut.
‘The world has gone topsy-turvy, kids,’ said Mae, bending over to look at their blank faces. ‘Sorry you have to see all this.’
Zoya apparently was also sorry because she scrunched up her face, turning red, before she let out a wail. This set Adam off so Mae had to abandon her half-eaten toast and pick them both up.
‘This,’ she said, barely able to hear herself beyond the cries, ‘is my life.’
Nothing much changed over the next week and Mae found herself not only becoming a babysitter – without pay – but also a chauffeur to Ilyaas and Aima, Fatti’s stepchildren. Aima was only a few years younger than Mae but seemed to think she had the answer to most of the world’s fashion problems.
‘You know leggings aren’t flattering, don’t you? Just saying.’
Most of Aima’s statements were signed off with ‘just saying’ and there were times when Mae wished she could respond with just shut up. She came pretty close to it a few times. Ilyaas, a year and a half younger than Aima, was less offensive because he tended to stare out of windows and usually just grunted in response to questions.
‘Hey, cool sweatshirt,’ Mae would say, walking into Fatti’s house, and he’d stare at her before shrugging and walking away.
‘Verbose, that one,’ said Mae to Fatti when the teenagers were in their respective rooms, watching things on their laptop or listening to music.
Fatti gave a deep sigh, shaking the baby monitor to check it was working. Adam was napping. Mae could’ve done with a few of those herself, what with her parents keeping her up most of the night.
‘It’s not easy,’ said Fatti, looking rather exhausted. ‘They’re good children, really.’
Mae raised her eyebrows.
‘They are. I mean, I’m sure they are. Deep down,’ added Fatti. ‘But it’s hard to know what the boundaries are. Ash’s at work most of the time and I’m with the baby and they hardly leave their rooms. When they do, they walk around looking so bored I try and suggest things for them to do. Aima has a problem with anything I come up with and Ilyaas just says, “Whatever”.’
‘Yeah, Aima-loser,’ said Mae.
Fatti flicked Mae’s arm. ‘Stop it.’
‘And s-ilyaas.’
‘Mae …’
‘Just saying.’
Fatti laughed despite herself. ‘She never finishes a sentence without it. What is that?’
‘Idiocy,’ Mae replied.
She sat and listened to Fatti’s mounting woes: what if Ash blamed Fatti if the children weren’t happy? How could she get them to like her? What was a stepmother’s role when the children were grown up? It’d be nice for Adam to have a good relationship with Aima and Ilyaas but they hardly looked at him, let alone played with him. Mae nodded where necessary, interjected where appropriate – and sometimes where it wasn’t appropriate – and all in all tried to listen to her sister’s problems without thinking about her own. Do not think about the disaster that is your own life; instead concentrate on others had become her motto.
Mae had no idea what to do about her results, Ji Su – or anything – so she tried not to think about it. It was easier said than done. She still found herself tossing and turning at night, waking feeling groggy and anxious, not realising why, until the reality of her life hit her each morning like some kind of recurring nightmare. As Fatti talked, Mae waited for her to ask her questions about how being at home felt, but, as if on cue, Adam started to cry, just as the phone rang. Mae answered it since Fatti was preoccupied.
‘Oh good, Mae. Just the person I wanted actually. Where’s Fatti?’ asked Ash.
‘Tending to the baby. Making sure it’s alive, et cetera.’
Ash paused. ‘Anyway, would you mind driving Ilyaas and Aima down to the office? Thought it might be nice for them to hang out here for a bit – see how a driving school operates.’ These adults, they really had no idea about what teenagers wanted to do during their holidays, did they? ‘And then I’d take them into town for a bite to eat.’
‘Sure, bro-in-law, sounds riveting. And it’s not as if I have anything better to do.’
Ash was too distracted by another call to detect the sarcasm. ‘You’re a star. So good to have someone to help Fatti.’ He paused again. ‘Has she said anything? To you?’
Mae took a deep breath. ‘What would she say to me? It’s Fatti. She’s worried about everyone but herself.’
Or me.
‘Hmm,’ said Ash. ‘Thanks, Mae. Got to go. I’ll see you later.’
Aima refused to go. When Mae entered the room she looked up at her, phone in hand, as if Mae had just done the most socially unacceptable thing by interrupting her conversation.
‘Driving school? Really? Not exactly the height of excitement,’ said Aima. ‘Just saying.’
‘Of course you are,’ replied Mae, bowing out of the room, closing the door and sticking her finger up at it.
She turned around to see Ilyaas standing there, watching her.
‘Oh. That was …’ Mae brought her middle finger to her face as if inspecting it. ‘Just scratched myself.’
‘On a door?’ he said.
He so rarely spoke Mae forgot his voice was that of a man’s rather than a boy’s.
‘Splintery,’ she replied.
They stood like this in the passage until he said: ‘I have to go with you to Dad’s office.’
Ilyaas didn’t have to roll his eyes for the disdain to show.
‘New trainers?’ asked Mae, looking down at his luminous Nikes. ‘Nice.’
He shrugged. ‘Whatever.’
‘So, last year of school next year?’ said Mae, stopping at the traffic lights. ‘Free to go crazy then.’
‘Yeah, real crazy,’ muttered Ilyaas.
Mae gripped the steering wheel harder. ‘Want to travel or anything?’
He scoffed and looked out of the window. ‘What, like everyone else?’
Mae nodded. ‘True words, my friend. True words.’ It took a few moments before Mae realised he was actually looking at her. ‘I mean, it’s hardly original, is it?’ added Mae.
Ilyaas turned back to look out of the window again. ‘Exactly.’
Fatti: Good luck with the date tonight Bubs.
Mae: Poor guy. tell him 2 say l8rs to his self-worth.
Farah: You forgot your keys. Don’t ring the doorbell when you get back, you
’ll wake the baby.
The following day Mae had to first listen to Farah complain that Bubblee was acting like a dad that babysits, then to Fatti that Ash had clearly said something to Aima who came down in the afternoon and sat in the living room, on her phone, pretending she was listening to Fatti, while simultaneously rolling her eyes. Followed by Bubblee’s account of her third date that week.
‘To be honest, he was too good-looking for his own good. Doesn’t leave much room for the imagination, does it?’ said Bubblee.
‘Mmm,’ replied Mae, lying in her single bed, scrolling through Twitter.
‘That’s not to say he wasn’t good at other stuff.’
Mae put her phone down and looked at her sister’s face with an emerging smile.
‘Just saying,’ added Bubblee.
Mae laughed. ‘How’s Farah feel about this gallivanting, young lady? Also, I’m telling Mum on you.’
‘I never thought dating would be fun. No strings attached, just random conversations, other stuff, and now and again I even meet people worth listening to.’ Bubblee paused. ‘You dating anyone? At uni?’
Mae’s heart began to race. If anyone was going to understand, it was Bubblee. She paused and wondered where she would even begin. Ji Su’s hands in Mae’s hair and lips on her mouth. How nice it had felt until it didn’t and how confusing it was. How Mae had lost a friend because of it. But too much time passed and Mae’s courage eventually failed her. It was one thing speaking to Bubblee about boys, but about a girl? Mae wasn’t sure that even Bubblee would be prepared for that.
‘Nah. Who has the time?’ Mae replied.
‘That’s right. You work your arse off and do something with your life,’ said Bubblee. ‘Relationships and distractions can wait.’
As Bubblee left the room Mae looked at Ji Su’s updated WhatsApp picture. She was wearing a yellow T-shirt that said: You Don’t Own Me. Mae listened to the hubbub downstairs until, inevitably, someone called her name to help with the babies. She had little choice but to go and answer.
Chapter Eight
It turned out that Ilyaas liked spending time with his dad more than anyone – even Ash – could have predicted. Of course, the duty of ferrying Ilyaas around had fallen on Mae. You don’t have babies. You don’t have a full-time job. Take Dad’s car. Shouldn’t he enjoy being retired and spending time with Mum? It was a mug’s game being a student. It transpired that your time wasn’t your own, whether you wanted to spend it in bed, on your phone, or just walking aimlessly around, didn’t matter.
The Hopes and Triumphs of the Amir Sisters Page 9