This Is My Truth

by Yasmin Rahman

  ‘Um … actually, I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘You say, “Yes, fantastic Amani, my best friend in the entire world. You are so right. Also beautiful. Let’s go home.”’

  She laughs. ‘I’ve really, really missed you.’

  ‘Annnnnddd I’m right, right?’

  She sighs. ‘Yeah, probably. It’s just scary shit. The thought of … opening up to them. Of admitting what I’m feeling. Because it makes me sound like a brat, doesn’t it?’

  ‘No, of course it doesn’t. Honestly, Huda, what you’re feeling is so totally normal. Especially considering your childhood. They’ll understand, I promise. And if they don’t, you can come live with me!’

  ‘The train now arriving at platform two terminates here,’ crackles over the tannoy. Huda and I both look across as a train pulls in, the doors open and people start trickling out.

  ‘So, what’s it gonna be?’ I ask her. ‘Are you gonna take this train to nowhere? Or come back with me?’

  55

  We make a detour to the park on the way home. When I told Huda that was one of the places I looked for her, she insisted on going there right away. I tried to make her call Nafisah first, to tell her we’d be there soon, but Huda wimped out and texted instead. I let her off, because I’m still not convinced she won’t run off again if things get too scary.

  The park’s empty when we get there. Huda feels the same hit of nostalgia I had. It makes me smile that she remembers it as much as I do. She heads straight for the roundabout, but she doesn’t fit in the seat either, so she perches on the raised platform in the middle, while I take my seat from earlier, on the armrest, and kick the ground to spin us. It’s like being transported back in time.

  As we slowly go round, I tell her about everything that happened today. I describe how it felt to see Ammi in pain so close up, how awful it was listening to her cries for help while being too scared to do anything. I tell her about the animal look on Abbu’s face, and how I don’t think I’ll forget that any time soon. There’s a feeling of dread and anxiety in the pit of my stomach just thinking about that scene.

  ‘But it’s over now,’ I say, trying to push away the memory. ‘He’s been arrested. Hopefully they’ll push through Ammi’s injunction quickly so he can’t come near us even if they let him out. I don’t think he’d test the law like that, like, risk being caught. I think he’ll stay away.’

  ‘Wow, shit, and you … you’re OK with that? I mean, you used to say you thought he could change. That he was changing.’

  I laugh. A bitter, hollow laugh. ‘OK with it? None of this is in any way OK. But given the circumstances, I’m glad he’s gone. That Ammi’s safe. That we’re safe. I can’t believe I was so stupid. This has been going on for years, Huda, and I still thought he could change. He just kept doing the same thing over and over, never once trying to change. Even when he apologised to Ammi, he’d always follow it up with something that would blame her. “I’m sorry I hit you, but you just make me so angry.” It was always such a bullshit apology, looking back on it.

  ‘Is that what you think of my apology tonight?’ Huda asks with a nervous laugh.

  ‘No way,’ I reply. ‘For one thing, you cried. I know you’re serious when you cry.’

  She laughs. ‘Shit though, Maani, this is … this is big. It’s gonna change everything. He’s still your dad, y’know?’

  ‘I hate him, Huda. Literally hate him. He’s ruined our lives for way too long. I know I’m supposed to be all sentimental because he’s my dad, and yeah sure, there’ll probably be times I miss him, but God, I’m so angry at him. I’m so … I’m scared of him. Is it, like, completely terrible of me to feel relieved and happy about the fact he’s been arrested?’

  ‘Fuck no,’ she replies. ‘Remember what Mrs Farook used to say? “Feelings are feelings, they’re not right or wrong.” You can feel whatever the fuck you want. Don’t feel bad for that.’

  I laugh. ‘I’m so glad you’re back. That we’re friends again. I know it sounds cheesy, but I don’t care. I know I can talk to Ammi about this now, but it’s also … it’s good to have you to talk to too.’

  ‘You know you can tell me anything.’

  We spin in silence for a few seconds. Something inside me is bubbling up. I stop the roundabout with my foot.

  ‘Can I …? Can I show you something?’ I ask, sitting up. My head’s spinning, and I know hers will be too, but I need to show her now, or else I’ll never have the guts.

  ‘Sure.’ She sits up, and as I expected, laughs a little at the dizziness.

  ‘You said … you said that you released that Burn Blog post so everyone could know the truth, right? About my dad?’

  She nods.

  ‘Well … considering everything that’s happened, I wanted … I wanted to show you the actual truth. I can tell you, of course, but I want you to see what it’s like … living with that.’ I get out my phone. My palms are already sweating. I never thought I’d show anyone this video. But it feels right. Huda is my person. I can show her this.

  ‘I started filming this years ago,’ I tell her as I hand it over, video already loaded. ‘Just little clips every time he was … when there was stuff going on. I guess I just wanted to … acknowledge it? And this is how I chose to do it. This … this is my truth.’

  I watch Huda as the compilation of all my Bad Nights clips plays out. Me staring at the camera, crying, as Abbu yells at Ammi in the background, as he slaps her, kicks her. There’s videos of me and Ismail together, videos of me sobbing uncontrollably, videos of me having been woken by the shouting. The burn on my arm makes an appearance too. Huda’s the first person to ever see this, to see me. I hadn’t realised before that while all this was happening to Ammi, it was affecting me too.

  ‘Amani …’ Huda breathes when the video comes to an end. There’s tears all down her face, her eyes all watery and puffy when she looks at me.

  ‘I just … I wanted you to know. I wanted you to see the truth. The real truth.’

  ‘Maani, these clips …’ Huda sniffs. ‘They’re … wow!’

  I laugh a little. ‘I always said I wanted my videos to make people feel something. I guess I’ve achieved that.’

  Huda looks up at me in surprise. ‘You’ve put this up on your channel?!’

  ‘God, no! I made this just for myself. You’re the only other person who’s seen it. Not everything has to go on the internet, Huda!’ I laugh.

  She splutters, and apologises. But her comment has ignited something inside me. Something I hadn’t allowed myself to consider – until now.

  ‘Maybe … maybe someday though? Like, way in the future, when it feels less … raw. Maybe someday my video will be able to help someone else going through this? Help them feel seen? Let them know it gets better? I dunno.’

  Huda doesn’t say anything, just stares down at the phone, where my frozen, teary face looks out at us. I start to wonder whether maybe she thinks it’s a terrible idea, totally inappropriate. But then suddenly she throws her arms around me and pulls me close. She’s sniffly and snotty, and I’m about to make a joke about her ruining my headscarf, but she cuts me off.

  ‘You’re amazing,’ she whispers.

  Her words bring tears to my eyes and a smile to my face. I’m so lucky to have her in my life. I squeeze her as tight as I can.

  And it’s perfect.

  Just me and my best friend, sitting in a park full of memories, hugging, crying, baring the deepest, darkest parts of ourselves to each other and knowing that, no matter what, the other will accept us as we are.

  After all, what are best friends for?

  56

  We walk back to Huda’s house in near silence. Not because it’s awkward, but because Huda has started to feel nervous. I link arms with her so she doesn’t feel alone, and also so she doesn’t run.

  ‘It’ll be fine, I promise,’ I tell her as we walk up her drive. ‘Just be honest with them, about everything. Even how you pick your nose a
nd wipe it on the sofa.’

  I wait for her to laugh, but she doesn’t. She’s transfixed, watching the door. I’m about to give her another pep talk when the door opens in front of us. Nafisah is standing at the doorway. Her face fills with relief when she sees Huda. She pulls her into the house.

  ‘Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re OK!’ she says, hugging Huda tight. Huda’s expression goes from anxious to shocked to a faint little smile.

  ‘I’m … I’m so sorry,’ Huda says, her voice muffled by the hug. Nafisah shows no signs of letting her go.

  ‘Huda?’ Ali calls from somewhere in the back. He almost runs to the front door. ‘Oh, thank God!’

  Ammi appears in the background too; I go over and give her a less tight hug, wary of her injuries.

  ‘You brought her back then?’ she asks, as we watch Nafisah gush over Huda while Ali goes to update the police and Huda’s social worker.

  ‘She was just being silly. She does that a lot.’

  ‘No wonder you two are best friends then,’ Ammi says, poking me in the side. I look her in the face, expecting to see happiness plastered all over her, now that Abbu’s gone, and there is a smile there, but it’s not … it’s not her proper smile – not the one she gets when she’s finished a painting she’s proud of, or when Ismail says something cute. It’s forced.

  ‘How are you, Ammi?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m fine. Just … just tired, I guess. It’s been a long day.’

  ‘You know you can talk to me, right?’ I say. ‘About … about anything?’

  She laughs a little. ‘Aren’t I supposed to say that to you?’

  I nod. ‘You have. And I will. Talk to you, I mean. I just wanted you to know you can do the same.’

  She smiles. A proper smile this time. ‘Thank you, moyna.’ I can see her gaze float over my head. I turn to look too. Huda’s standing there, awkwardly shuffling on the spot.

  ‘Sorry,’ Huda says. ‘I just … Maani, Nafisah and Ali want to have a talk in the dining room.’

  ‘You just need to be honest with them,’ I tell Huda. ‘Don’t filter your feelings.’

  ‘Would you … Can you come with me? I really want you to be there. You … you make me brave. You don’t have to say anything. I just … I feel more confident when you’re there.’

  I look from Huda to Ammi. She smiles and nods at me.

  And so I go.

  Huda sits at the head of the dining table, with Ali and Nafisah on either side. I decide to hover in the corner of the room, by the window. I’d feel weird sitting at the table. I encourage Huda to just blurt out everything that’s on her mind, and that’s exactly what she does.

  ‘I love you guys, like, seriously proper love you. You’re the best carers I’ve ever had, and I’ve loved all the time I’ve spent here. Nafisah, I love how thoughtful you are, how you send me photos of news headlines you think I’ll find funny, how you always go over-the-top proud parent when you come to award evenings, even when it’s embarrassing as fuck.’

  ‘Ahem.’ Ali clears his throat. ‘Embarrassing dad here too, y’know.’

  Huda laughs. ‘You are the most embarrassing dad ever. Your cheesy jokes, oh my God, they’re the worst. But I love you for it. I love that you don’t let people’s opinions change who you are. I love how we sit together and do the commentary on TV shows together. I just … I love you both, so much …’

  ‘So then … why?’ Nafisah asks desperately. ‘Why did you run away?’

  ‘I just … I loved it so much, I didn’t want it to end.’

  ‘That makes no sense,’ Ali says. ‘You didn’t want it to end so you tried to run away? Which would … make it end?’

  Nafisah slaps his arm impatiently. ‘Why would it end, Huda? What was going through your head?’

  Huda takes a deep breath and looks over at me. I smile at her and nod a little.

  ‘I heard you talking,’ Huda says quietly. ‘Years ago. Before you took me in. I heard you telling the social worker that you couldn’t have kids. I assumed that’s why you were fostering. I thought I would be sort of like … like a replacement kid. It’s stupid, I know. But then, when you got pregnant … I just … I started getting scared. I’m still scared, I guess. About there not being space for me here once the baby comes. Once your baby comes. I’ve been trying to … to change myself into, like, a better daughter, someone you’d want to keep around, even with the baby, but I don’t think … I dunno, it feels wrong – trying so hard, knowing that I’m going to ruin everything at some point in the future anyway. And then, I dunno. It just felt inevitable, that things would end, so I thought I’d end it on my terms instead, so that it wasn’t you who rejected me. I just … I feel like I’m in the way a lot. Like you’ve got each other, and now the baby, and it’s all so perfect. And then there’s me, butting in from the side.’

  Huda goes quiet and part of me is dying to reach out to her, to let her know how proud I am that she managed to get it all out. To tell her how well she did. Like I’m a third proud parent.

  Nafisah reaches out and takes Huda’s hand. ‘Oh, honey, we don’t feel like that about you at all, do we, Ali?’

  ‘God, no,’ Ali says. ‘We love you, Huda, just as you are. You don’t need to change yourself, in fact we’d prefer it if you didn’t. We kinda like the weird little person you are.’

  ‘And as for the baby,’ Nafisah says. ‘There is no way that it could replace you. When we look into the future, we see both of you there. We want you to be a part of this baby’s life. We want it to learn your sense of humour, your kindness, your mad Scrabble skills. We want your influence to rub off. As far as we’re concerned, you are this baby’s sister. No foster, no step. Just sister.’

  Huda’s head snaps up, and my own chest constricts so hard I feel the urge to cry. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, silly!’ Ali says. ‘We need someone who will protect the baby like only a big sister can, stick up for them when they need it, sneak them chocolates when we’ve said no more, and, of course, change their smelly nappies.’

  Huda laughs, wipes the tears from her cheeks.

  ‘No matter what happens in the future,’ Ali says in a more sincere tone, ‘you’ll always be part of this family, part of our lives. You’re not getting away from us that easily.’

  ‘We mean it,’ Nafisah adds. ‘Even if … even if you decided you didn’t want to be with us any more, or if some sort of circumstances tore us apart, you’d still be our daughter, Huda. You’re always going to be our daughter. You’re part of this family, and nothing can change that.’

  Huda bursts into actual sobs then, which releases my tears too. I feel the urge to go over to her, but Nafisah beats me to it. She moves her chair right next to Huda and they hug.

  ‘What can we do?’ Nafisah asks quietly. ‘To make you believe this. To make you believe how much you mean to us.’

  ‘Shall I hire a skywriter?’ Ali asks. ‘I could get them to write “HUDA, WE LOVE YOU, BUT PLEASE STOP LEAVING THE TOOTHPASTE LID OFF.”’

  Huda chuckles a little, turns her head while still in Nafisah’s hug. She looks at Ali.

  ‘I don’t … I don’t know,’ she admits. ‘I can see you mean it. And I believe you, I do. But it’s just … sometimes the bad thoughts, the doubts, they creep back in.’ She shrugs a little.

  ‘So we’ll just keep reminding you,’ Ali says matter-of-factly. ‘We’ll prove it to you over and over again until the doubts leave forever. Sound good?’

  ‘That sounds … great,’ Huda says. She sniffs away her tears. ‘I love you guys.’

  ‘Not half as much as we love you,’ Nafisah says. She wraps her arms tighter around Huda, who reaches a hand out to Ali. He takes it and squeezes, with a smile. I take this as my cue to leave. I slip out of the room just as Huda asks, ‘Can you still get me a skywriter though?’

  Looks like they’re well and truly back to normal.

  57

  It’s strange having a full table at breakfast. Ammi and Nafisah cook
pancakes, which makes Ismail extremely happy. Everyone talks, and laughs, and I can’t help but think this is what a real family feels like. What a happy family feels like. Maybe we’re on our way to this too now.

  The school emailed to say the water issue was fixed, so we have to go back today. Nafisah is insisting we stay with them for a few more days, even though, with the injunction coming, we’re fine to go home, without the fear of Abbu showing up. I think Ammi was grateful for the offer; I know I was.

  Ammi and I clear up from breakfast together. I’ve made a resolution to help her with house stuff a bit more. She needs to know we’re a team, that united we can face anything. She didn’t bring her make-up with her, so the purple bruise on her forehead is clearly visible.

  ‘You’re not going to work today, right?’ I ask, as I put the plates in the dishwasher.

  ‘No,’ she replies, pouring out the last few drops of coffee from her mug before putting that in the dishwasher too. ‘Nafisah’s got the day off too, so we’re just going to Netflix and chill.’

  I snort. ‘Oh my God, Ammi! I don’t think you quite know what that means.’

  She looks confused, and I burst out laughing.

  Suddenly, she takes my hand and pulls me into a hug. ‘It’s nice seeing you this happy,’ she says. ‘I hadn’t realised, but I haven’t seen you like this in a while.’

  I feel the tears rise immediately and hug her lightly, worried about hurting her.

  ‘I love you,’ I whisper.

  ‘I love you too,’ she says.

  Suddenly there’s something wrapping itself around our legs. Ammi and I look down to find Ismail’s run in to join the hug.

  ‘I LOVE YOU TOO!’ he yells. Sugar high.

  Ammi laughs. ‘Just us three now,’ she says. ‘We can do this, right?’ She looks at me, uncertainty on her face, and I give her a smile before bending over and wrapping my arms around them both. ‘Family hug!’ I say, as Ammi bends slightly too, with a wince.

  ‘Where’s Abbu?’ Ismail asks, buried underneath my arms. ‘Shouldn’t he be in the family hug too?’