‘Forget this,’ mumbled Mae as she went to the group chat and scrolled down. Exit group. Her finger hovered over it. It hadn’t been a group for a while, had it? A group means each person has their own importance but Mae hadn’t had any since university. Even before university, maybe. She’d always just been young, chilled-out, nothing-about-her’s-important Mae. Abdul-Raheem was showing her that she was important. That some of the things her family did and said just weren’t right. Sometimes you have to speak up and tell a person when they’re wrong otherwise how is anything meant to change? Mae realised she’d spent her life either chatting nonsense because ‘serious stuff was a yawn-fest’ or being silent. Her finger hovered over the button a few more moments, before she said: ‘Not any more.’ The time had finally come to stop pretending that everything was okay, or that nothing mattered.
Mae has left the group
Chapter Fifteen
There was only one place to go and twenty minutes later Mae found herself outside Abdul-Raheem’s house. She rang the doorbell but there was no answer. Mae called his phone again but he still wasn’t picking up. Where could he be? She didn’t have any of his friend’s numbers, or any idea where else he might be. She knocked on the door, calling out his name because maybe he’d gone to bed, though she wasn’t sure how anyone would be able to sleep after the evening they’d had. Mae sat back in the car and realised she had no one else to call. No sisters, no friends and no Abdul-Raheem. Never had it mattered to her as much as it did then. What she’d give to be able to speak to Ji-Su. Mae rested her head on the steering wheel. Her phone buzzed and she shot up to see if it was Abdul-Raheem. Fatti Calling. Mae declined the call and silenced her phone. They could all sit and worry about her, all come to whatever conclusions they wanted about where she was and whether she was with Abdul-Raheem or not.
‘Good,’ Mae mumbled.
She hoped they thought the worst. That she was in bed with him right now. She was just annoyed that it wasn’t true. Leaning her head back, she wondered where he might be. What if the whole thing had driven him to do something stupid? She’d heard about triggers, and what if he did a one-eighty and got back in trouble? Exhaustion washed over Mae as she closed her eyes, her vision peppered with images of her family, the assortment of looks they wore. That stupid kid, Ilyaas. The faces fuzzed and muddied as she drifted off to sleep.
Mae awoke with a start, not knowing where she was or what she was doing. She looked around the car, confused, and started again at Abdul-Raheem’s face, peering at her through the window.
‘Are you going to come out?’ he asked.
She stepped out of the car and flung her arms around him.
‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled into his neck. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’
His grip tightened around her waist with these words.
‘It’s all right,’ he replied. ‘You’re here. It’s okay.’
They walked into the house as Mae checked the time on her phone. It was just gone eleven o’clock at night. There were what seemed like hundreds of missed calls from all her sisters. Were her parents still at Farah and Bubblee’s house, sitting around, somewhere between angry and worried for her? Good, it served them right for trying to control her.
‘So?’ he said, sitting down on the bluish grey sofa. ‘What happened?’
The walls of the room were white, the coffee table had stacks of books on them, a Qur’an. She noticed a prayer mat laid out in the corner and rosary beads spread out on top of it. One wall had a painting of Arabic writing on it, which she noticed as the first kalimah prayer – the one you say when you convert, declaring the oneness of God and the prophet being the last messenger. There was a small dining table against the wall, a vase of multicoloured tulips in the middle and it made her heart melt for Abdul-Raheem.
She relayed the entire scene to him, softening the more racist parts of it because whatever she knew her family to be, she didn’t want to admit it to Abdul-Raheem. She told him that it had been Ilyaas, who for some reason had been outside the house, who had called Fatti to tell her what was going on.
‘I see,’ replied Abdul-Raheem. ‘I guess he has a thing for you.’
‘What?’ said Mae. ‘Don’t be stupid.’
He shook his head. ‘So naive.’
‘Am not.’
‘Why else would he be hovering outside the house when he knows you’re in there? Or call and tell them I was in there with you? Trust me, Mae. Jealousy can make you do some horrid stuff. Especially when you’re that young and stupid.’
Mae had to take a few moments to absorb this information. ‘Oh,’ she said, finally. ‘That’s weird.’
‘Not that weird,’ Abdul-Raheem said.
‘He’s still a little you-know-what.’
‘Oh, yeah, that’s for sure. But who could blame him, right? You’re pretty you-know-what,’ he added with a smile.
How could Abdul-Raheem be so calm and collected after all that she’d told him? Why wasn’t he in a rage about them all?
‘They’re your parents,’ he said, eventually.
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
He took a deep breath and held her hands. ‘Everything. Listen, don’t ask me what I think of them – you can probably guess.’
She could – she was thinking the same – but it still didn’t make it easy hearing it from someone else.
‘But, they’re your parents. They’re going to be protective and think that they know best—’
‘But—’
‘Even when they don’t,’ he added. ‘And in this case, they really don’t. But they don’t know that. It’s a lifetime of what they’ve known and how they’ve been brought up.’ He paused. ‘Your sisters didn’t exactly seem to be on your side either. The younger generation’s meant to know better, but they don’t always, do they? We all mess up.’
‘What are you saying?’
He squeezed her hands. ‘I’m just saying to have a little patience with them.’
‘Let them order me about, so that I quit work, can’t go out or go back to uni? Though I suppose the last bit is out of my hands.’
‘Is it?’ he asked.
Mae shrugged.
‘I’m not saying any of that stuff. You’re here, aren’t you? They know they can’t control you and you should be able to show you’re independent, but just … try and understand where they’re coming from.’
She pushed his arm. ‘You’re too nice, you know. Makes me even madder they judge you without knowing you.’
‘It’s how it goes in the world.’
‘All right, can we go a day without the philosophy?’
He laughed.
‘I was worried about you, you know,’ she added.
‘Me? Why?’
‘Dunno. Thought maybe … the way Dad spoke to you …’
‘What?’
‘Maybe you’d, I dunno, gone off the rails again.’
Abdul-Raheem looked at her for a moment before bursting into a laugh. ‘Mae,’ he said, putting his hand on her face, ‘I’ve heard and seen a lot worse since my days of crime to let something like that flip me.’
‘Oh.’
Mae flushed in embarrassment. Of course it was a ridiculous thing to assume. He looked down at her and she felt the pace of her heart fasten.
‘I didn’t want to leave you, but … I knew that if I stayed any longer, if any more was said, I might have lost my temper and God, I’ve spent years trying to get a hold on that. I’m sorry I left.’
‘Don’t be,’ she replied. ‘I had to have it out with my family. Where’d you go, anyway?’
‘Just driving around to cool down. Called my dad.’
‘Oh my God, you told your dad?’
‘He helps me put things in perspective.’
‘So, now he knows I have a racist family?’
‘I mean, he knows you’re South Asian. He didn’t have high hopes.’
He said it with a smile but it was depressing how true that was.
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‘And, you know, it’s usually less about the colour of someone’s skin and more about the unknown,’ he added. ‘No one trusts anything they’re not used to.’
She looked at him for a moment before he took his hand away and stood up.
‘Perhaps you should go home now? Your parents are going to be worried.’
‘I don’t care. And I don’t want to,’ she replied, looking up at him.
She stood up too and hooked her fingers into his front jean pockets.
‘Mae … This isn’t a good idea,’ he said, lowering his voice.
‘Why not?’
‘Because we’re Muslim, for one.’
She shrugged, stepping closer to him. ‘So? Why does that have to mean everything?’
He looked down and paused. ‘And we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend any more, are we?’
He held her wrists and placed them gently by her sides.
‘I want to stay,’ she said. Then she lowered her head, pressing it against his chest. ‘And I want you to be my boyfriend again.’
He looked down at her. ‘Really?’
She nodded. ‘I meant what I said in the bathroom – romantic setting that it was.’ She looked up at him. ‘I do love you.’
He took her face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead. ‘I love you too.’
Then she wrapped her arms around him and felt him tighten his grip around her waist.
‘Can we go to bed?’ she asked.
He sighed deeply.
‘I still don’t think that’s a good idea.’
She loosened her hold. ‘Why? It’s not like I’m saying “let’s have sex”. I want to just lie down with you.’
‘Yeah, me too. But not everything in life is about what you want.’
‘Bit boring,’ she said.
‘Maybe, but I don’t believe in doing whatever you feel like doing. One thing can always lead to another.’
‘What about what I feel like doing?’
He took a deep breath. ‘Don’t make this harder than it is, Mae. If you want to stay, you can sleep in my bed and I’ll take the sofa.’
Why was everything about Abdul-Raheem so reasonable? She felt annoyed, yet she didn’t feel she had the right to be because, technically, as a Muslim she guessed he was right. Mae just didn’t want to do what was right. She wanted to do what she felt like doing and right then she didn’t feel like either going home or staying in a bed without Abdul-Raheem. Of the two options, though, his bed annoyed her the least, so she told him that was fine. Mae curled up in his bed, feeling the tiredness of that evening come over her as she looked up at Abdul-Raheem putting a glass of water on her bedside table.
‘Sleep well,’ he said.
Why couldn’t he just get in next to her?
‘Alone. Great,’ she replied.
He put his hand on her forehead before bending down to kiss it. Mae moved her head and caught his lips instead. She pulled him in closer, feeling the pressure of his mouth on hers, thinking that this feeling was better than she’d even imagined it. It was a few moments before he pulled back and took a deep breath, opening his eyes.
‘Mae, you can’t do that. You have to respect my wishes.’
With that he switched off the bedside lamp and closed the door gently behind him, leaving Mae with the awful feeling of a person who’s too selfish about what they want to care what another wants. She wanted to respect his wishes. But as she looked up at the ceiling, trying to reason away her own desires, she wondered: if she was always worrying about the wishes of all the people in her life, what happened to her own?
Mae’s embarrassment was only amplified in the light of day the following morning. There were more missed calls from her family. Semi-hysterical messages. A very loud voicemail left by her mum. Walking into the room, Mae saw that Abdul-Raheem had put out breakfast things on the table. She could hear something being cooked in the kitchen and went in to see him at the stove, making scrambled eggs.
‘I can make fried eggs, if you prefer?’
‘No,’ she said, shuffling on her feet.
‘Sit.’ He leaned forward and pressed his lips against her head. ‘I’ll bring it in.’
She sat at the table as he asked from the kitchen how she’d slept, if it was too hot in the room, that he’d put out a spare toothbrush for her in the bathroom. All this small talk made Mae feel worse.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, finally sitting down opposite her.
‘Not great.’
‘You should probably go home and show your parents that you’re alive.’
Mae was about to take a sip of her orange juice when she looked at him. ‘You know, I do have my own moral compass. You don’t have to make me feel bad all the time.’
‘I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad.’
‘I know I’ll have to tell my parents I’m alive at some point, but I’ll do it when I want. Not when you tell me to.’
He put his fork down. ‘Fine.’
They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence. She waited for him to apologise, but he’d started talking about random things, work, the weather – the weather, for God’s sake. Did he think she was being immature? Unreasonable? Did he honestly think that being rational was going to win her parents over? He began to clear up the plates as if the night before hadn’t happened and Mae couldn’t understand how measured he was being. It didn’t feel natural. What would Ji Su have done in this situation? Mae was pretty sure she’d have torn up the place, told Mae to stay with her for as long as she wanted, that no person had the right to tell an adult what to do, not even a parent.
‘Well, I guess I’d better go then,’ she said, picking up her keys.
‘Yeah,’ he replied.
Why wasn’t he telling her to stay?
‘I’ll see you later,’ he said.
‘If I don’t get locked up before being shipped out of the country.’
‘Don’t joke about that.’
‘Well, crazier stuff happens,’ replied Mae.
He paused. ‘Maybe, but not to you. Not that.’
She’d been hoping for more but they were now hovering at the door. Wasn’t he going to bend down and give her a kiss at all? Or even a hug?
‘Yeah, well. Better not or you’ll have that on your conscience,’ she said.
Nothing.
‘Message me to let me know what’s going on,’ he simply replied.
Mae stepped outside into the warm summer morning and paused. ‘Listen … Are we still …’
‘What?’ he asked.
‘We are together again, aren’t we?’ she asked. ‘You haven’t changed your mind?’
He gave her a big smile. ‘Are you crazy?’
Then he pulled her to him and kissed her on the lips.
The kiss had fortified Mae. As she pulled up outside her parents’ house she wasn’t sure what she was going to say. She walked inside, greeted by the sounds of her parents shuffling from their seats and calling out her name. She decided to just ignore them and made her way up the stairs.
‘You come down and tell us where you’ve been,’ exclaimed her mum.
To which Mae just slammed her bedroom door and got back into bed. Unfortunately, she’d forgotten to lock it and so both her mum and dad barged in, demanding answers from her.
‘I’m an adult,’ she said. ‘I don’t have to tell you where I’ve been.’
‘We are your parents,’ her dad said.
What a disappointment it was when the person you probably loved most in the world ended up being someone so different to what you thought they were. To what you wished they were. Would she and her dad ever joke about her mum again? Would they ever share a secret look or laugh? Why did having one relationship have to mean changing another?
‘I’m going to sleep.’
‘You will listen to us,’ said her mum.
Mae sat up, throwing her duvet to one side. ‘You know what, Amma? No. I won’t. Not right now because I’m tired a
nd all I want to do is sleep. If you want me to walk out of the house again and disappear for another night, then I can do that. So you either let me sleep, or I leave.’
Her parents looked at each other, unsure, confused as to how the tables had turned, so that their daughter was now angry with them. They must’ve sensed something in what she said.
‘Don’t think we’ve forgotten this,’ said her mum. ‘We will talk when you are up.’
With which they left the room.
There was less talking and more talking over each other, including some shouting. Mae tried to think about what Abdul-Raheem had said about the whole honouring your parents stuff, but if he’d been in the room, her parents not listening to one thing she was saying, he’d have changed his mind. They kept going on about respect and tradition and culture and none of it even made sense. What did that have to do with the colour of a person’s skin?
‘A single girl should not be alone with a man,’ exclaimed her dad.
‘Hang on, is this about me having a relationship or him being black?’
At first, they looked horrified and offended by Mae using the term ‘relationship’. Then they glanced at each other, unsure of how to tackle two evils with one response.
‘Good Bengali girls do not have … boys as their special friends, Mae,’ said her dad.
‘Who is going to marry you now?’ said her mum.
She looked ready to have a fully fledged panic attack.
‘Maybe Abdul-Raheem will.’
It came out, just like that, and for a moment Mae thought she’d given her dad a heart attack. His eyes seemed to glisten as he stared at her. She leaned forward.
‘Abba?’
There was a long pause as he shook his head at her as if he didn’t even recognise her, and it opened up a pit of anxiety in Mae’s stomach.
‘I am no longer your abba.’ His voice cracked, sounding thick and heavy.
He stood up slowly, as if he might stumble and fall, holding on to her mum’s arm. Mae watched him stagger out of the room, wiping a stray tear as he left.
The impact of his words left Mae unable to form any of her own. She couldn’t stay in the house. Her mum called out to her to stop, that she couldn’t leave the house, the same old stuff about respecting your parents’ wishes, but Mae couldn’t breathe. She got into her dad’s car and began to drive. Where to, she didn’t know. I am no longer your abba. Even if she had murdered someone she didn’t think he’d ever say such a thing. He probably would’ve forgiven her for murder. She gripped the steering wheel harder.
The Hopes and Triumphs of the Amir Sisters Page 20