All of My Heart

by Sara Naveed

  She suddenly stopped in her tracks, pulled out her phone from her pocket and had a short conversation with someone. She then resumed walking, this time in the direction of the music store. I followed her like a crazy, lovesick puppy.

  In the shop, she strolled through the aisles, occasionally picking up an album or two. I followed her stealthily, pretending to look at the music albums stacked in the shelves. I did not want to get caught. I did not want to come across as a stalker. Suddenly, my phone beeped and the sound distracted me. It was a message from Ahmed. I switched off my phone and quickly looked up. But Zynah was nowhere to be seen. I panicked and ran down the aisle, frantically searching for her. I was almost going to give up when I heard a titter of laughter. I turned around. There she was, standing right behind me. She had her headphones on and was swaying to the tune. I smiled, relieved to see her again. I was contemplating talking to her when I saw her checking her phone and then walking towards the door. I followed her. A silver sedan was waiting for her on the other side of the road. She crossed the street, walked towards the car and got inside. I looked on, wondering if I would ever see her again.

  The Night Out

  It was a Friday, and I was free. Since I didn’t have any classes, I decided to take a tour around the city on my own. I looked for part-time jobs in the nearby areas on the Internet and decided to go for walk-in interviews. There was a vacancy at a convenience store just around the corner. Michelle, the owner, greeted me as I entered the store. She asked me if I had any prior experience in handling cash registers and I said no. However, I assured her that I was quite good at managing money. She seemed reluctant at first but then said she would hire me for a day to see if I could handle the pressures of the job. I readily accepted her offer. She explained the basics of the job and took me to the cash counter. A young English boy, probably around my age, was standing behind it. I shook hands with him and introduced myself. He was my colleague and Michelle asked him to show me the ropes. The day passed uneventfully, and at around 5 p.m. she called me to her office.

  ‘I think you handled the job effectively,’ she told me.

  ‘Thanks. So . . . am I hired?’ I asked nervously.

  ‘Yes, you are. You will have to work twenty hours a week for which I will pay you 120 pounds. All right?’

  I did not know how the pay scales worked in London, so I agreed to whatever she said.

  ‘All right, great. See you tomorrow then.’

  ‘Thank you, Michelle. See you.’

  I walked home feeling tired but satisfied. I was finally going to do something on my own; earn my own money.

  Vikram was sitting in the living room and Avantika was putting on a pair of high-heeled sandals when I opened the door to our apartment and stepped in.

  ‘Hey, Rehaan. What’s up?’ he asked, fixing his tie.

  ‘Hi. Nothing. I, uh, got a job,’ I told them, closing the door behind me.

  ‘Great! This calls for a party!’ he said, beaming.

  ‘Party?’ I asked.

  ‘We’re going for a party. Do you wanna come with us?’ he asked.

  ‘Who is the host?’ I asked.

  ‘One of my closest friends is celebrating his birthday at a local nightclub. Do you want to come?’

  ‘Thanks, but I’m busy. I have to finish my assignments.’

  ‘C’mon, Rehaan. It’s the weekend. Don’t be so boring,’ Avantika said, wrapping her bare arms around Vikram’s shoulders.

  ‘Plus, there will be a lot of girls there. Hot girls,’ Vikram giggled.

  I rolled my eyes.

  ‘And . . . we need someone to click pictures. I’ll ask my friend if he can pay you.’

  ‘I don’t do this for money,’ I told him, feeling a bit offended.

  Did he really think I would go for money?

  ‘That’s cool. Come with us, then. You’ll have fun, promise,’ Vikram said, putting his arm around my shoulder.

  I looked at his hand and then at him.

  ‘So, you are coming?’ he asked.

  ‘Okay,’ I said with a nod.

  ‘Great. Get ready in five minutes. We are already late.’

  We walked to the club as it was only a few blocks away. As soon as we entered, Vikram and Avantika were ambushed by a group of people. I felt left out because I didn’t know anybody. I left the group behind and decided to look around. I switched on my camera and started taking candid shots. The place was beautiful, full of colours and vibrant people. I looked at it through my lens—an energetic couple was swirling on the dance floor; two middle-aged men were engaged in an animated conversation; a group of teenaged girls were giggling; an attractive girl was standing alone at the bar, smoking.

  ‘Hey!’ she said and held up her hand as the flash hit her eyes.

  ‘Oh shit,’ I whispered, realizing the girl was none other than Zynah. My heart stopped beating. My face crimsoned and I went weak in my knees.

  ‘Please don’t take my picture,’ she scowled.

  ‘I know, I am sorry,’ I replied quickly and then turned around. I did not have the guts to face her, let alone have a conversation with her.

  ‘Hey, wait,’ she called out to me.

  I stopped. My hands trembled a little and my throat went completely dry. She walked up to me, a glass of mint margarita in her hand.

  ‘I think I know you,’ she said as she looked me up from head to toe.

  ‘No, you don’t,’ I replied. ‘I mean, I don’t know. It must be a mistake.’

  ‘Really? I don’t think so. I mean, I’m quite sure,’ she said, looking confused.

  ‘Well, uh, excuse me,’ I said, whizzing past her.

  I quickly walked in the other direction. I had never imagined I would bump into her in a place like this. What was she doing here? Was she also invited? I wondered whom she had come with. I watched her from a distance but she seemed busy with other people—chit-chatting, smoking and drinking. I tried to avoid her and focus my attention on clicking pictures but I couldn’t. Right then, someone tapped me on my shoulder, breaking my reverie. I turned around to see that a group of people had surrounded me.

  ‘Umm, yes?’ I asked, my voice laced with nervousness.

  ‘Who invited you here?’ one of the guys asked. He was a desi.

  ‘I came here with Vikram,’ I told him.

  ‘Vikram? Who’s Vikram?’ the other guy asked.

  ‘He’s my flatmate.’

  ‘Do you think we care?’ one of the girls asked. ‘It’s our party, and we’ve only invited people we know. So just get the hell out of here.’

  I felt embarrassed, shocked, hurt. I didn’t know how to respond. I looked for Vikram and Avantika but they were busy drinking and chilling with others. What was I thinking? Did I really think they would come to my rescue?

  ‘Can’t you hear, young man? The girl is asking you to leave,’ the guy said.

  I nodded at them and turned to leave but Zynah stepped in.

  ‘Hey, Keith, all okay?’ she asked one of them.

  ‘Yeah, Zee. We were just checking on this guy. He’s been taking pictures without our permission.’

  ‘Well, Keith, don’t worry. He’s with me,’ she told them.

  I looked at her, shocked

  ‘Are you sure, Zee?’ Keith asked, looking at me with curiosity.

  ‘Yes, he’s here with me. I know him,’ she assured him.

  ‘Okay, cool. Nothing to worry about, then. Have fun,’ Keith said, and eyed me suspiciously before walking away.

  Nostalgia hit me. Once again, she had saved me. Memories came flooding back as I remembered her birthday party and how she had come to my rescue there as well.

  ‘I . . . uh . . .’ I mumbled.

  ‘It’s okay. Have fun,’ she said with a glare. I looked on as she disappeared into the crowd, my heart shattered into a million pieces.

  The Apology

  The next day, I walked to the same music store where I had seen her yesterday, hoping to see her again. I wandered
through the aisles, looking at new releases. But my mind was elsewhere. Every approaching footstep, every clink of the door made my heart beat faster. Every now and then I craned my neck to see if she was here. After around half an hour, she walked into the store, wearing a pair of khaki pants and a bright pink cardigan. She looked adorable, and I couldn’t stop admiring her. She walked down the aisle, checking out the albums one by one. I followed her around for a while, picking up the albums she had just held in her hands. I saw her put on a pair of headphones and I too followed suit. Soon, I got engrossed in the song I was listening to and lost track of time. When I realized that a considerable amount of time had passed and looked up, she was nowhere to be seen. I wondered if she had left.

  ‘Damn . . . where did she go?’ I whispered to myself, ruffling my hair.

  ‘Looking for someone?’ I heard her voice.

  Startled, I turned around and almost bumped into her.

  ‘Oops. Be careful,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry,’ I muttered, a little embarrassed.

  ‘So, dude, chakkar kya hai? Were you looking for me?’ she asked me.

  I tried to avoid her gaze but it was impossible.

  ‘Or should I say . . . were you following me, stalker?’

  ‘No . . .’ I blurted out. ‘It’s not like that. I . . . uh . . . I’m not a stalker.’

  ‘Then what were you doing here?’

  ‘I just wanted to . . .’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I wanted to apologize for the other day.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, raising her brows.

  ‘What I did at the party last night was really stupid but you saved me . . .’ I continued.

  ‘Why didn’t you just tell me you were Rehaan?’ she asked all of a sudden.

  The question took me by surprise. She remembered me. My name. My face. Everything.

  ‘You thought I’d forget you? Dude, I don’t forget my friends so easily!’

  I looked down, feeling embarrassed.

  ‘How could I not recognize you? Your face! It’s the same . . . You still have that innocent face,’ she said, beaming.

  I looked into her eyes.

  ‘Rehaan . . .’ she said. ‘Where have you been, yaar? I’ve missed you so much!’ She stepped closer and embraced me, leaving me stunned. I did not have the courage to hug her back. The intimacy of the act sent thousands of chills down my spine.

  ‘You haven’t changed much, have you?’ She pulled herself back and then observed me from head to toe.

  I smiled at her.

  ‘Except for your hairstyle,’ she said as an afterthought.

  ‘Maybe,’ I whispered.

  ‘I’m soooo happy to meet you, seriously!’ She patted me on my arm.

  ‘Me too,’ I told her, nodding. I meant it. I had not felt this happy in a long time.

  The Perfect Conversation

  She suggested we go to a nearby Pakistani restaurant, Original Lahore, for lunch and I readily agreed. She talked non-stop as we walked to the eatery from Baker Street Station, telling me about the delicacies served there. After we had settled down at our table, she called the waiter and ordered a few dishes without looking at the menu or asking me. There was no doubt that she was a regular here.

  ‘Their mutton biryani is really good, and the chicken cheese kebabs are to die for! Have them with the green chutney,’ she said after placing the order.

  I didn’t reply and just looked at her fixedly. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and looked away. I realized I was making her awkward and shifted my gaze, taking in the décor of the restaurant. It was a small, cosy space with colourful furniture and kitschy wall art.

  ‘So, tell me . . .’ Zynah said breaking my reverie.

  ‘Yeah?’ I asked, looking at her

  ‘Dude, what are you even doing here?’ she asked.

  ‘Uh, well, you brought me here for lunch, I guess,’ I answered.

  She looked at me with a confused expression and then burst out laughing.

  ‘What happened? Why are you laughing?’ I asked nervously.

  ‘Stupid, I meant, what are you doing in London?’ she asked, suppressing her laughter.

  ‘Oh, acha. Sorry. I’m doing my master’s from London Business School. I got a scholarship,’ I said.

  ‘Wow,’ she said, clapping her hands in delight. ‘Kya baat hai. I mean that’s amazing.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said and smiled.

  ‘I didn’t know you were the studious kind,’ she said and winked at me.

  ‘Well, then you don’t know me at all,’ I said, taking a sip of water.

  ‘Hmm. Maybe. Where are you putting up, by the way?’

  ‘I am sharing a house with another person in East London. What about you? Where do you live?’

  Suddenly the waiter appeared, bearing a tray of food. He had interrupted our conversation and we waited patiently as he placed the dishes on the table.

  ‘I live with family here. Willow Road, Hampstead,’ she said as she served me rice.

  ‘Oh, nice. Studying or working?’ I asked, helping myself to the salad.

  ‘Take the chicken kebab as well,’ she said. ‘I have completed my bachelor’s and I’m employed in a leading interior design company.’

  ‘Oh, wow, that’s cool,’ I said, between mouthfuls. ‘I can’t imagine you working in an office.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I shrugged, smiling. ‘By the way, this mutton biryani is really something.’

  ‘See, I told you! Whenever you miss Pakistani food, just come here,’ she said.

  ‘With you?’ I asked her.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said casually. ‘Of course. Why not?’

  I smiled at her response.

  After lunch, we walked down the road towards the nearest Tube station. The sky was beginning to dusk, its colour changing from light blue to hues of orange.

  ‘So, Zynah, what did you study in college?’ I asked her, breaking the silence.

  ‘I took up interior design as my major. That’s how I landed a job at one of the biggest design companies, FK Designs, you know.’

  ‘No, I don’t know,’ I said, a smile playing on my lips.

  She laughed. And I laughed too.

  ‘You’re still funny,’ she said, looking at me.

  ‘And you’re still beautiful,’ I mumbled.

  ‘So, uh . . .’ her voice trailed off.

  ‘So what does FK stand for?’

  ‘Farid Kamran. That’s the name of the owner.’

  ‘Cool.’

  ‘What about you? What do you do in your free time?’

  ‘Well, I have got classes four days a week. Apart from that, I’ve got a part-time job. I’ve also joined a photography club at the university.’

  ‘Wow! Photography! I almost forgot how much you loved taking pictures,’ she said.

  ‘Remember, I framed one of your pictures and gave it to you on your birthday?’

  ‘Oh yeah, I remember,’ she said absent-mindedly as her phone beeped.

  ‘Do you . . . uh . . . do you still have it?’

  She stopped to look at me.

  ‘What happened?’ I asked her.

  ‘You know, I won’t lie. But I think I left it in Pakistan,’ she said, biting her lip.

  ‘Oh, right. No problem,’ I said, my voice laced with disappointment.

  ‘I hope you will take another some day.’

  ‘Sure, why not,’ I said.

  ‘Rehaan, for how long have you been here?’ she asked me all of a sudden.

  ‘It’s just been two weeks,’ I said. ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m sure you haven’t been around the city. Have you?’

  ‘Uh, no, I haven’t.’

  ‘Great!’ She jumped at the opportunity. ‘I’ll take you on a tour then!’

  ‘What? Are you sure?’ I asked, stopping in my tracks.

  ‘Why not! I get free from work at 5 p.m. So yeah, I’ll take you.’

  ‘Okay. When?�
�

  ‘I’ll text you the time and place.’

  ‘Uh, I don’t have your number.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, you don’t. Give me your phone. I’ll save it.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said.

  I couldn’t believe that she had herself volunteered to take me around the city. Neither of us spoke as we walked to the Tube station. I was already thinking about our upcoming rendezvous.

  ‘Okay, time to go. I’ll see you soon, then,’ she said as we parted ways at the station.

  ‘See you soon, Zynah,’ I said, waving at her.

  ‘Bye, Rehaan.’ She waved back, smiling.

  Truth or Dare

  It was Sunday, and I planned to finish all my household chores. I started off with laundry. After a tiring morning, I had just settled on my bed and opened my laptop to Skype with Amma and Azaan, when Vikram walked in, holding a spatula.

  ‘Hey, Rehaan, want to have some breakfast?’ he asked, startling me. Once again, he hadn’t bothered to knock.

  ‘Uh, no, thanks. I’m fine,’ I said.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yeah, man. Thanks for asking though.’

  Around lunchtime, I went downstairs to get something to eat. There were no leftovers in the refrigerator, and there were no groceries either. I should have accepted Vikram’s offer, I thought regretfully. Feeling disappointed, I walked back to the living room and plonked myself on the couch. Memories of yesterday’s lunch with Zynah came rushing back, bringing a smile to my lips. I took out my phone and dialled her number. My heart thumped with excitement with the ringing of the phone.

  ‘Hi, who’s there?’ she answered.

  ‘Hi, Zynah.’ My heartbeat quickened. ‘It’s me.’

  ‘Me, who?’ she asked sarcastically.

  ‘Rehaan,’ I said, narrowing my brows.