‘What friend?’ asked her mum.
‘From work.’
‘What’s her name?’
Her?
‘Oh my God. Is this twenty questions? I’m late.’
‘Just because you’re now at university doesn’t mean you don’t tell us what you’re doing or who you’re seeing. Isn’t it, Jay’s abba?’
Her mum looked at her dad who was too busy flicking through the iPad. ‘I think this one’s too big.’
‘Jay’s abba,’ said her mum.
His head shot up, looking at Mae. ‘You look nice.’
‘Ask her who she’s seeing. And why are you taking your abba’s car?’
‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ said her dad.
Mae let out a sigh of relief before saying bye and leaving the house. As she sat in the car a smile escaped her. For the first time since being around Ji Su, Mae realised that this was what it must be like to actually have a life.
She reached Zobar’s Café before Abdul-Raheem and she was glad for it because it gave her time to compose herself; tell herself this wasn’t a big deal and to just be cool. Normal. Except when she saw Abdul-Raheem walk through the door, people doing double takes, all her composure fell away.
‘Hey,’ she exclaimed as she waved at him and got up, knocking over the sugar that was standing in the middle of the table.
He came forward, grabbing a serviette and cleaning the granules as he laughed.
‘Oops,’ said Mae. ‘Soz.’
He sat down opposite her and Mae noticed people were looking over at them. What was their problem exactly?
‘No worries,’ he replied. ‘As long as you don’t bring this behaviour to work.’
Mae could feel her hands get clammy and she wished they’d turn the air conditioning up in this place, even though it was on pretty high.
‘So,’ he said. ‘Did you tell your parents who you were seeing today?’
The question caught her off guard. Why did it matter? And no, of course she didn’t tell her parents.
‘Was I meant to make an announcement?’ she said, trying to keep her tone light.
Abdul-Raheem picked up a menu and scanned through it. ‘Do you know what you want?’
Mae also picked up the menu but felt his eyes on her. ‘Veggie fajita will do me, I think. And chips.’
‘Good idea. Can’t have lunch without chips.’
Abdul-Raheem fell into easy conversation with Mae about what he’d been up to that morning – gym – and hanging out with some friends last night. He mentioned waking up for fajr – morning prayers – and Mae played with a napkin, wishing they could move on from conversations about prayers.
‘And now I’m on a date with you,’ he said.
The surprise on Mae’s face must’ve shown because he laughed.
‘Just wanted to clarify that,’ he added. ‘Unless you don’t want it to be, of course, and that’s fine too. But I’m too old-school to pretend and act cool about something like this.’
‘Oh,’ said Mae.
Mae may not have dated a lot, or at all, but she’d heard enough stories to understand that it was a bit of a minefield. No one knew what the other was thinking, and of course everyone was too busy playing it cool to ask. People got ghosted and zombied and were you just friends who messaged all the time, or did it mean more because who messages all the time when it’s just platonic? Are they passing their time until someone better comes along, or are they just too scared to admit how they feel because what if you’ve friend-zoned them without them realising? Mae stuffed three chips at the same time in her mouth.
‘Well?’ he asked when a few moments had passed because Mae had got lost in her reverie.
‘Well, what?’ she said, her mouth still full.
‘How do you feel about that?’
She chewed on her food, trying to buy herself some time. ‘I think we should get more chips.’
He looked at his plate of penne pasta. ‘Right. I get it. It’s fine.’
‘What, no,’ Mae exclaimed, almost knocking her Coke over. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, yeah, I would quite like more chips, but that’s not the point. Not that I’m making a point. If I was then I’m not sure what it would be but it’s not what you think. I don’t even know what I think—’
‘Whoa, Mae, Mae, Mae,’ said Abdul-Raheem, putting down his fork and looking at her. ‘You’re going to choke if you don’t pause.’
Mae took a deep breath, and for some reason Abdul-Raheem looked like he might laugh.
‘I get it might be a lot to take in. I mean …’ he paused, looking almost embarrassed, ‘I don’t know if you’ve had any relationships before or what you’ve been through, so maybe this is different. Or maybe not. I don’t want to assume anything. And I know I’m a bit older than you, but I don’t know … how often do you meet someone who you just click with?’
He took a sip of his orange juice.
‘I guess not often,’ she replied.
‘If it’s too much, don’t worry. We can just be friends.’
‘Why are you so nice?’ she asked.
‘Am I?’
‘You know you are.’
‘All right. You got me there,’ he replied.
He twisted his glass of orange juice around, staring at it as Mae waited for more. Abdul-Raheem seemed to hesitate.
‘Do you really want to know?’
‘Why you’re nice?’
He nodded.
‘Well, yeah,’ she replied.
Although it had been a rhetorical question, now she really did wonder, because as far as life went, there weren’t many nice people around. Not least men, she thought, thinking about the man on the train, and the guy at the club. She still shuddered to think about it.
‘It’s probably best I tell you, anyway.’
Mae leaned forward. What was with all the mystery?
He took a deep breath, looked her in the eye and said: ‘I used to be in prison.’
Mae paused and found herself leaning back, without meaning to. ‘Oh.’
‘Yep.’
There was a long silence. The chattering of other customers in the restaurant. A baby crying. Alicia Keyes singing from the speakers.
‘Prison?’
‘Yeah.’
‘God.’
He let out a small laugh. ‘Yeah.’
‘When?’
‘Eight years ago now. Since I’ve been out, that is. I was in there for five.’
‘Months?’
‘Years. On and off.’
‘Oh.’
He nodded. ‘I know. I started young. Did stuff I wasn’t proud of.’
‘Like?’ she asked, almost without thinking. ‘Sorry, I mean, you don’t have to tell me. Not if you don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Does it matter to you?’
Mae knew she should lie and say that if it was in the past then obviously it didn’t matter. But she kind of felt it did. How could it not?
‘No judgement,’ she replied. ‘If that helps?’
He took a deep breath before finishing the rest of his orange juice and asking for another, as well as ordering more chips.
‘The truth is I fell in with the wrong crowd. Grew up in a rough neighbourhood and it was just easier to do what everyone was doing – drugs, petty thefts, that kind of thing. But the small things stack up, don’t they? And once you get caught, you get trapped in the cycle. Pretty hard to come out of it.’
‘Yeah,’ said Mae, leaning back again. ‘Always is hard to break cycles.’
That was definitely something she could relate to. Still, it was hard to imagine someone with a smile like Abdul-Raheem’s doing any of that stuff. He looked so polite and, aside from that, was so polite. He lifted up the sleeve of his T-shirt to show a silvery gash at just the top of his arm.
‘Got stabbed there when I was eighteen and out on parole. I’ve got another one on my stomach.’
Mae flushed, partly because she wasn’t sure whet
her she wanted to see it because it was a stab wound, or because it was on his stomach. She kind of wanted to lean over and feel the wound on his arm for herself.
‘God,’ was all she could manage to repeat.
‘I could go into detail,’ he said. ‘But maybe another day. Think that’s quite a lot to take in already.’
‘No kidding,’ Mae replied. ‘But you didn’t answer my question. How’d you get to be so nice?’
‘Kind of a cliché, really. Went in not really thinking about God and ended up reading Malcolm X. All the stuff he went through and at that time. In America too. It made me think: why am I so angry? What right do I have? Got a roof over my head – even if it does belong to the council – food on the table and I realised I’d never been grateful for anything in my life. Then I read at the end – when he goes for Hajj – how it didn’t matter if you were a man or woman, rich or poor, black or white – it was all the same in the eyes of God. When you spend your life being angry because people see you differently, and you know that there’s one being, at least, who doesn’t care about any of that, just the deeds you do for yourself and others … well, it kind of changes you.’
‘So, what? Now you’re nice to people because of God?’
He shrugged. ‘Guess you could put it that way.’
Mae took a bite of her fajita that had now gone cold and thought about it.
‘And what about when people are bad to you?’
‘That’s a lot harder to deal with,’ he said with a smile. ‘Don’t know if I’ve got a handle on it yet, but I’m trying.’
‘Hmm.’
Mae was busy absorbing this information and almost forgot Abdul-Raheem was in front of her.
‘What do you think then?’ he asked.
‘Bit impressive, isn’t it? To get yourself out of something like that.’
‘I don’t know. It’s one of the reasons I moved to a quiet town rather than living in the city. Fewer temptations. Now I think I’d be fine anywhere, but still … you have to think ahead. Have a plan.’
This just reminded Mae of the fact that she had no plan. That she wasn’t even thinking about thinking ahead.
‘I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but … why the hell are you a horse during the day?’ she asked.
He leaned forward. ‘Because I’m obviously Batman at night.’
Mae rolled her eyes. ‘Loser.’
‘Okay, fine. I know. But jobs aren’t easy to come by. Especially when you’re a black man with a criminal record.’
Imagine if Abdul-Raheem knew what her own reaction had been when she first saw him? What her family would think if they ever knew she was on a date with him. It seemed so weird that the colour of anyone’s skin should matter and that Abdul-Raheem seemed so content. She guessed that’s where gratitude came in.
‘Let’s face it,’ he added. ‘You weren’t exactly jumping for joy when you first saw me.’
Mae felt her face flush so much she didn’t know where to look. ‘What? No,’ she exclaimed, her voice a few octaves higher than usual.
Abdul-Raheem raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t worry. You’re all right. I’m used to it.’
‘Bu— wha—, no, it’s no—’
‘Listen,’ he interrupted. ‘It’s not the best feeling in the world. But you’ve lived in a village your whole life, you’re young, and so I get it. And don’t think I don’t know there’s as much racism within Asian communities as there is in the big bad white world. It’ll be in any community, really.’
Mae wanted the ground of the café to open up and swallow her whole. Actually whole. How could she have been so awful?
‘No, it’s just you never come across black or brown people around here. I was surprised, that’s all,’ she said, trying to compose herself.
He merely took another bite of his pasta. She was lying and he knew it and the silence between them felt like something was shifting, and not in the right direction. After what felt like ages, when Abdul-Raheem hadn’t looked at her and seemed ready to rush through the rest of the lunch, she spoke.
‘Okay, yes, you’re right.’
He looked up.
‘I’m just so embarrassed. I don— You don’t— What I mean is … I’m not racist.’
‘We all have prejudices in us,’ he replied, putting his fork down. ‘Every single one of us. That’s the way human beings work, but the most important thing is recognising it and then doing something to change it. Like, I don’t know … being on a date with me.’
Mae threw a chip at him, grateful for the fact he was smiling, that he didn’t get up and walk right out. That he would give her a second chance. That’s when it hit her that she wanted a chance. How the hell did that happen? Had it been like this with Ji Su? Would her feelings for Abdul-Raheem change the way they had for her ex-friend? This time though, she didn’t feel uncertain – nervous yes – but not unsure.
‘All right, fine,’ she said. ‘If that’s how I’ve got to prove it.’
He smiled as the waiter brought his orange juice and another batch of chips.
‘No,’ said Abdul-Raheem. ‘The only way you prove it is if you come out tomorrow as well.’
Mae didn’t even think twice before saying yes.
Mae found herself expressing interest in her parents’ choice of gazebo, Adam and Zoya’s eating and sleeping patterns and even Aima being a brat. And she did it all with a smile as she nodded away in understanding, actually feeling sorry for them all caught up in their dreary lives when she was dating a man who adored her. It wasn’t cheesy adoration that was all chocolate and flowers either (though that’s not to say they weren’t a part of it). He did things that Mae didn’t think would matter until she realised how much she quite enjoyed them. Like him going out into the rain for her, just when they were about to go home, because she realised she’d forgotten her jacket. Or, if they shared some chips or dessert, he’d always let her have the last bite. Telling her that he knew he liked her even before he saw what she looked like, and that when he did see her he couldn’t believe his luck.
‘Sap,’ she said, hitting him on the arm.
‘I know you love it, but let’s pretend that’s what you really think.’
The problem was that after work, there was only so long she could stay out without her parents being suspicious. On their days off Mae would lie and say she was doing some extra shifts at the park or she knew her mum would start asking even more questions than she already was. Like: Is that a new perfume? You’re wearing make-up today again? Why are you in such a good mood? Which was incredible because it meant that her mum must’ve noticed that Mae hadn’t been in a good mood lately, but hadn’t even cared to ask why. Except it hardly mattered because now there was a person who did care about her moods and stupid things like what she had for dinner, and which one was Bubblee, and how were her niece and nephew doing? Mae found herself telling him about her small annoyances, how her family were kind of self-involved right now, the drama between Bubblee and Farah and Fatti and her stepchildren. She asked him questions about his life before he’d converted to Islam but he didn’t seem that keen to discuss it.
‘What’s past is past. I want to move forward.’
Which sounded sensible, though Mae also felt that sharing the past could help with moving forward. It was one day, before lunch and a film (because late nights were out of the question), that they were sitting in his car, outside his house, and Mae wondered when Abdul-Raheem planned to kiss her. What was the protocol here when it came to someone who was religious? She’d never have imagined being with an observant Muslim but now that she was, it was kind of annoying not having any sort of physical relationship, apart from holding hands or a hug.
‘My dad’s been on my case to visit him for a while so I might go and see him next time I have a few days off,’ he said.
‘Oh. Okay. That sounds good.’
Even though she’d got so used to Abdul-Raheem being around, what would she do when he wasn’t there?
/> ‘He doesn’t mind you being Muslim?’ she asked.
‘Minds more about me being a horse.’
Mae laughed. ‘Yeah but then you’d have never met me.’
Abdul-Raheem turned to her. ‘That’s exactly what I said.’
‘You’ve told him about me?’
‘Of course.’
‘Oh.’
She looked at her hands for a minute. ‘How come you’ve never invited me into your house?’
He paused. ‘You want to see it?’
She shrugged.
‘We’ll miss our film.’
‘Or we could just watch one at yours.’
‘I don’t really have a TV,’ he replied.
‘Oh my God. How do you live?’
‘Prefer to read, or do other things to engage the mind.’
‘Fine. We can read a book together,’ said Mae.
He took a deep breath. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’
For the first time since she’d known him, Mae wondered whether he might be a serial killer or something. What was he hiding? Because if you’re being weird about someone coming into your home then there had to be a reason for it.
‘Why not?’ she asked.
Abdul-Raheem scratched his neck. His arms bulged at the sleeve of his T-shirt and Mae felt something flutter in her stomach. She was used to this fluttering; it happened whenever she saw him, but there was something about being outside his house, a quiet space where they could be together, alone, that the fluttering became more like a drilling. He raised his eyebrows at her.
‘Why do you think?’ he asked.
‘You’re a murderer?’
‘What’s another reason?’
She shrugged. He took her hands and stroked the inside of her palm with his thumb. She wondered if he could feel the vibrations from the drilling in her stomach.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Mae, I like you.’
‘That’s good because I like you too.’
‘I mean. I really like you,’ he said. ‘You’re just …’
‘What?’
‘There’s no one quite like you. You say whatever comes into your head. You never want to impress people, you eat what you want, you wear what you want.’
If only he’d met the Mae before university, obsessed with kale and gluten-free products.
The Hopes and Triumphs of the Amir Sisters Page 14