Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating

by Adiba Jaigirdar

  Shit, Nik is about to get married.

  “Who is this guy?” Abbu demands. “Some Londoner?”

  Nik shakes her head. “His name is Rakesh. He’s Indian too. He graduated with his engineering degree last year.”

  I look to Abbu and Ammu. Surely, an Indian engineer will make them satisfied, if not happy. You can’t really ask for much more, can you? Nik chose the kind of guy that Abbu and Ammu would have chosen for her. Still, my parents are wearing twin expressions of disgust, like Nik has just told them she was planning to marry a shada guy with no prospects.

  “I can’t believe after everything we’ve done to make sure you get into a good university, to make sure you get the best education …” Abbu trails off, shaking his head. He stands, his chair scraping loudly against the tiles of the kitchen floor. For a moment, he looks at Nik like he has more to say, before turning around and storming up the stairs. Ammu follows after him a minute later.

  Nik just sits in her chair, silent tears sliding down her cheeks. I don’t know what to say or do.

  How could Nik be so … foolish? How could she come here after months and months and declare that she is going to leave uni to get married? Why would she leave uni to get married?

  “They’ll … come around,” I offer, placing my hand on Nik’s shoulder in what I hope is a soothing gesture. She shrugs me off, like my touch burns her.

  “They won’t,” she says. “God, I don’t know why I thought there was even a chance they’d understand.”

  “It’s big news,” I say defensively. “You can’t really blame them for being angry. You’ve worked so hard to get into UCL, and to throw that away—”

  “I’m not!” Nik exclaims. “I said … I said I’d go back and finish the degree. Just … right now isn’t … it’s not a good time. I need time …” It sounds more like she’s trying to convince herself than me.

  “Can’t you marry him and finish off the year?” I ask. “I mean, it’s just a wedding—”

  “I can’t.” Nik’s voice is stone. “You wouldn’t understand. You’ve never …” She shakes her head, like even trying to explain is beyond her. “I should go. Rakesh got us a hotel room in town—”

  “He’s here?”

  “Yeah … I thought I would introduce him, you know. But … maybe not. I don’t know. I have to think about it. Can you …” She finally turns to me, her eyes wide and pleading. It’s an expression I’ve never seen on my sister before. “Try to persuade them that I’m doing the right thing?”

  How can I when I know she’s definitely doing the wrong thing? But how can I deny her when she’s just been crying?

  “Sure, I’ll try,” I promise half-heartedly.

  It’s enough for Nik, because she actually smiles. “Thanks, Ishu.”

  I keep my door slightly ajar that evening, listening to the sound of Ammu and Abbu discussing the events that unfolded earlier today. They’re always so sure that I’m busy with my studies, so used to my quiet self, that they would never imagine I could be listening, or even paying attention.

  “We have to find some way to get her back to university,” Ammu says, like it’s her decision and not Nik’s. I’m sure my parents could find a way to convince Nik to go back. They’re pretty persuasive.

  “I’ll talk to her. One-to-one. She’s young. She’s just caught up with this idea of being in love.” Abbu sounds convinced. “It’ll be okay.”

  “What if it isn’t?” Ammu’s voice sounds desperate. “What are you going to do if you can’t convince her? We’ve spent our entire life trying to make those two into human beings, and now—”

  “Nik will go back to university and finish her degree and become a doctor.” Abbu’s voice carries a tone of finality that makes me wonder who he’s trying to convince. “And … Ishu … she’s doing fine. She’s on the right path, right?”

  I sit up, nearly dropping the maths book I was pretending to study.

  “We thought Nik was on the right path too.” Ammu sighs, like Nik’s decision to take a year away from university is somehow contagious. “Nik was always so … on track. I don’t understand what could have happened.”

  “I’m going to call her and figure things …” I close the door to my room softly as Ammu and Abbu continue trying to solve the Nik problem.

  Setting my book down on the desk, I slump down in my seat, not sure what to think. I always thought that if I kept my head down and studied and did my best and went to the best university I could also study medicine, and Abbu and Ammu would be proud of me. This is what we’ve been working for my whole life. Not just me, but them too. They moved us here, to this country, to have a better life. To have a shot at all of the things that they didn’t have a shot at.

  Now, just because Nik is a screw up, that suddenly means that I might be too? My parents have always seen us as a unit, though Nik and I have little in common. Now I realize that they had just two shots at getting it exactly right, and since Nik is screwing up her shot, I have to show them that I’m willing to do whatever it takes.

  I just have to figure out a way to prove it.

  chapter five

  hani

  I DON’T KNOW WHY, BUT ISHITA AND HER PUCKERED-UP angry face follow me all the way to the cinema. If Aisling and Dee find it strange that I hardly say a word on the bus, they don’t say anything. They’re too busy exchanging glances and giggling together. This is usually how things go when I’m the fifth wheel at their dates.

  When we get to the cinema we’re greeted by Aisling and Dee’s boyfriends—Aisling’s Barry and Dee’s Colm. And there’s a third boy there too. A boy I’ve never met before.

  “This is Fionn.” Barry introduces him with a grin. From the way Dee and Aisling glance at me with bright eyes and smug smiles, I know this is some sort of a set up. I groan inwardly, even while putting on a smile outwardly.

  “Hey, Fionn.”

  Fionn has dirty blonde hair, pale white skin, and electric blue eyes, and even though he’s half a head taller than me, he slouches in a way that makes him look much shorter.

  He’s definitely not my type.

  I know it even more when Aisling and Dee pair off with their significant others and I’m left to shuffle next to Fionn, who mumbles things about school and exams and how his favorite film is Midnight In Paris because Woody Allen is a genius director. I have to physically stop myself from both rolling my eyes back into my head and running away from the movie theater. Instead, I clamp my hands together and say, “Wow, interesting,” like I’m really interested in hearing about films by pedophile directors.

  I keep looking over at Aisling and Dee during the film, trying to catch one of their eyes to say, Get me out of here please! but they’re too busy sucking faces with their boyfriends to notice. At one point, Fionn even tries to slip his fingers into mine. That’s the point where I leap up, announce “bathroom” under my breath, and rush out.

  “Well? What did you think of Fionn?” Aisling asks after the film is over and I’ve told them—insisted—that I need to get home. Thankfully, they didn’t let me go off on my own, even though I know they’d rather spend more time shifting their boyfriends. It’s a cool and clear night, so the walk to the bus stop is actually pleasant—except for all the talk of Fionn.

  “Seems like you two were chattering away for the entire film,” Dee adds.

  I smile tightly, not sure how to break the news to them. Fionn was definitely chattering away during the whole film. So much so that I barely have any idea what the movie was about.

  “He’s okay, I guess,” I mumble.

  “Just okay?” Dee asks. “I thought he seemed really nice. He’s one of Colm’s best friends, you know.” That’s funny, considering Colm and Dee have been dating for a whole year and I’ve never heard of or seen Fionn before.

  “I don’t think we really clicked,” I say. “I mean … we didn’t have much in common. I don’t know.”

  “He seemed to fancy you.” Aisling smiles. “You can sa
y it if you fancy him too, you know.” She nudges me with her shoulder like I’m just being too shy to confess my feelings for him or something.

  “Was this supposed to be a set up?” I ask. “Because I don’t really appreciate that.”

  Aisling rolls her eyes now, while Dee casts me a nervous glance.

  “Come on, Maira,” Aisling says like I’m being unreasonable for not wanting to have a random set up with a random white guy sprung on me. “Fionn is well fit. And you haven’t had a boyfriend in ages.”

  “Is it because you’re Muslim?” Dee asks in a low voice. “Your parents will disown you or something if they hear you’ve been on a date with a boy?”

  I bite back a retort that I know will cause tension, and instead heave a sigh. “No, my parents wouldn’t mind … it’s just …” I can’t even remember the last time I’ve been into a guy like that. Right now, all men seem overwhelmingly unattractive—except the ones on the Netflix shows I watch. Sometimes I think that maybe I like guys more as a concept than a reality. And girls more as a reality than a concept.

  I’ve spent the better part of the last year trying to figure out how to say that to Dee and Aisling.

  “You should give Fionn a proper shot,” Aisling says. “You’re just too resistant. He fancies you, and you … haven’t even tried with him. At least try shifting him before you make up your mind.”

  The idea of having to shift Fionn to make up my mind about him sets my stomach roiling. If not Fionn, though, I bet there’ll be other guys. I wouldn’t be surprised if Aisling and Dee have an entire roster of guys they plan to set me up with. They’ve been talking about it for a while now, and since I’ve been less than enthusiastic about the idea now they’ve just gone ahead and done it without my permission. I doubt there’s an end to this.

  “The thing is …” I say slowly. “I’m not … really into guys right now. I mean—”

  “You’re a lesbian!” Aisling says, looking at Dee with delight. “I said so, didn’t I?”

  I have to pinch myself to keep from saying something I’ll regret.

  “I’m … bisexual,” I say. “And I mean … I don’t know … I guess I don’t really find boys all that appealing right now. Does that make sense?”

  “No,” Aisling says, at the same time that Dee nods and says, “I guess.”

  They exchange a glance, and I’m not sure what exactly it means. Then Dee sighs and says, “Hey, I’m sorry we flung the whole Fionn thing on you without asking. We didn’t know you were … bisexual. Just … we thought …”

  “I know. I’m not mad or anything.” Even though I am a little bit mad. “I just don’t really want to do the dating thing right now, you know?”

  Aisling sighs. “So why say you’re bisexual instead of just that?”

  “Because … I am bisexual,” I say. “And I also don’t want to date right now.”

  “Have you even kissed a girl?” Aisling asks.

  “No,” I mumble. Unfortunately, I have kissed way too many boys—most of them unpleasant experiences.

  “Then how can you say you’re bisexual?” Aisling asks.

  I rub the sides of my arms, even though it’s not cold, before answering. “That doesn’t mean I can’t know. Liking someone isn’t about kissing. I mean, you don’t only like Barry because he’s a good kisser, do you?”

  Aisling shrugs, like maybe she does. I feel a little bad for Barry then, even though I barely even like him.

  Dee stares at the ground instead of looking up at either of us. I’m not sure whose side she’s on here—though it seems she isn’t on mine, because she’s letting Aisling just go on and on.

  “I just don’t know how you can turn down guys like Fionn when you don’t even know how you feel about girls. And when you’ve kissed plenty of guys who aren’t even as fit as him.” She says this as if Fionn is some great catch, like he didn’t spend half the film worshipping Woody Allen.

  “I do know how I feel about girls,” I insist, because that seems like it holds more weight than the Fionn thing. He’s just some guy, at the end of the day. If it wasn’t him, it would be another guy—though ideally someone with less problematic taste in film directors.

  Aisling rolls her eyes, looking like she definitely doesn’t believe me, but she doesn’t say anything else for a few minutes.

  Dee’s the kind of person who likes to keep the peace, so she lets us peter out into silence as we walk. Pretty soon, we’re at the bus stop. According to the Real Time Information, the bus is only five minutes away.

  “Look …” I say as we come to a stop. Normally I would let things go, but this feels too big. Other than my parents, I haven’t told anyone I’m bisexual … until now. Aisling can’t just pretend that I’m not because I haven’t kissed any girls. “I would really appreciate if you guys could just give me some space about this. I’m still trying to figure stuff out, how to tell people, and what exactly I feel and—”

  “How can you know and still be figuring stuff out?” Aisling folds her arms together and raises an eyebrow. Like everyone who has some knowledge has figured all things out.

  “Because—”

  “Aisling, I think you’re being a little insensitive.” Dee finally speaks, interrupting me. Aisling takes a step back, turning her raised eyebrow to Dee. If she expected Dee to take anyone’s side, it was probably hers. “But … Maira, you have to admit, Aisling is kind of right, even if she hasn’t said it in the best way. It just sounds like you’re confused and you don’t even know what or who you want. You can’t really take out your frustration about that on us.”

  “I’m not—”

  “I know.” Dee’s voice is soothing, like she’s speaking to a child who has acted out. “And I get it. But … you probably shouldn’t go about telling people you’re bisexual when you don’t have any experience. Hell, even I’ve kissed a girl, and I know I’m not gay. It’s just a little demeaning if—”

  “Actually, I have kissed girls. A girl, I mean.” For a moment, I don’t even know who spoke those words. I only realize it was me from the stunned expressions on Dee and Aisling’s faces. The words came out of my mouth, and Dee and Aisling definitely heard them. I just don’t know where they came from. “I … am actually seeing someone.” This time, I say it slower. Choosing my words. Not letting my heart—or rather my anger—speak for me. “It’s just … new, so … we’re not really telling people.”

  Aisling’s expression changes from shock to anger. “And who is this girl you’re dating?”

  I search around in my head for names. If it’s someone they don’t know, someone they can’t search up on Instagram, they’ll know I’m lying, and then I’ll be back to square one.

  Before I can think too much about it, my mouth forms the words, “My girlfriend is Ishita Dey.”

  “You’re home early for a Friday,” Amma says when I slip inside the house later that evening. “I thought you were going to a movie with your friends?”

  “I was … I did. I wasn’t feeling great, so I came home,” I mumble, taking my shoes off and hanging my coat up.

  I’m about to go up to my room when Amma reaches out a hand to stop me. She takes me in with a frown on her lips.

  “Are you okay, Hani?”

  Coming home to my mother’s voice saying Hani after a whole day of being called Maira always feels strange. Like stepping out of a skin that belongs to me but doesn’t quite fit. Hani is the name that Amma and Abba have been calling me for as long as I remember. It’s the name that feels like me. Humaira is just the name on my passport, my birth certificate. The name given to people who aren’t family, who aren’t Bengali. And Maira … that’s just what Aisling decided to call me on the first day we met in junior infants. And it stuck.

  “I’m okay, Amma,” I say.

  “Did you get into a fight with your friends?” I don’t know how she knows. It must be a Mom-sense thing. “I’ll make us some cha and we can talk about it?”

  This is something that Amma
and I do sometimes. When she’s feeling down or I’m feeling down, we make cha, sit in a bed under the covers and talk about what’s bothering us. Or sometimes about nothing much at all, really.

  “Okay,” I say. “Let’s have some cha.”

  After changing into our PJs, Amma and I get into my bed with warm cha in our hands. Abba is already sound asleep since he has a meeting early in the morning and has to be up at the crack of dawn. He’s been working so hard to be elected councilor that I feel like I hardly see him.

  “So … are we talking about it or are we not talking about it?” Amma asks, sipping her tea with one hand and wrapping her other arm around me. “Because we can just drink cha in silence, if you want.”

  I heave a sigh. I trust Amma with my life. Even though I tell Aisling and Dee that they’re my best friends, it’s really Amma who’s my best friend. She gave up her job when she was pregnant with me—and she never went back to it. She says she has no regrets. Instead of working, she spends her time leading the PTA, which she says she does mostly because she wants to keep me close.

  But if I tell Amma that I’ve lied to my friends about dating Ishita, she’ll probably say I should tell them the truth. Fix things with honesty and integrity. Rubbish that I definitely don’t want to hear—or do.

  I take a slow sip of my tea before clearing my throat.

  “I went to the movies with Aisling and Dee, but they were trying to set me up with some guy their boyfriends know.”

  Amma takes a strand of my hair in her fingers and tucks it behind my ear gently. “And … that made you upset?”

  “A little, I guess. I tried to explain to them that I don’t really want to date boys right now … and that brought up the whole bisexual thing and … they were weird about it.”

  “Maybe they just need more time?” Amma offers. “It can take people time to process things.”

  “You and Abba didn’t need time to process,” I say. “You hugged me and told me that you loved me and were proud of me and—”