Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating

by Adiba Jaigirdar

  Still, we both get changed, and—after one quick text to Amma—I crawl into one side of Ishu’s bed. Ishu, though, just kind of looks at me while rubbing her elbows.

  “What?”

  “I can sleep on the floor?” she offers, like a total weirdo.

  “You know we’re Bengali, right?” I ask. “I’ve slept in a single bed with three other people that I hardly know.”

  Ishu cracks a small smile. For a moment, it seems as if she wants to say more. Instead, she crawls into bed beside me, pushing herself so far toward the edge there might as well be an ocean between us.

  “Good night, Hani.” She sighs against her pillow.

  “Good night, Ishu.”

  chapter twenty

  ishu

  I’M BASICALLY WOKEN UP BY CHOKING ON HANI’S HAIR. As good as her shampoo smells, nobody needs that much hair in their mouth first thing in the morning. Coughing slightly—and trying not to wake Hani—I shift away from her.

  My phone reads 5:56 a.m.: four minutes until my alarm is supposed to go off. I turn it off for the day and move to the edge of the bed once more. The bed frame creaks with every movement, and I keep glancing back to see if Hani stirs. But she’s still sleeping like a log. I guess she’s a pretty heavy sleeper.

  She’s sleeping almost in the middle of the bed, as if this room and bed belong to her. What an odd position to sleep in, but whatever I guess.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and will myself to go back to sleep. After all, we were out late enough yesterday. My routine has been thrown off. I should be able to sleep for longer. But no matter how long I close my eyes for, sleep doesn’t come. I’m wide awake.

  So I decide to get up, slip into the bathroom, and get ready for the day ahead.

  When I get back into my room twenty minutes later, Hani is already dressed. She’s folding up the pajamas I gave her for the night.

  “Hey, good morning!” she says in the kind of cheerful voice nobody should use in the morning. Or ever, really.

  “Morning …” I mumble. “You were like dead to the world when I woke up a few minutes ago.”

  Hani catches my eye and shrugs. “Guess I came alive to the world? I should go … do you know if there’s a bus that goes from yours to mine?”

  “My parents can drop you off. You should stay for breakfast, at least,” I say. If Hani leaves without eating something, that’ll be a huge offense. Hani should know that.

  “I should really go.” She insists, not looking me in the eye. “I mean, I wasn’t home last night and I don’t want to go home super late this morning, you know.”

  “It’s literally six thirty in the morning?”

  Hani heaves a sigh. “Yeah, but …” She shrugs, like it is what it is.

  “You know most buses haven’t even started running yet. It’s Sunday … what’s up with you?” There’s a weird restlessness to Hani this morning that I don’t think I’ve ever noticed with her before.

  She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and finally meets my gaze.

  “It’s just … I missed the night prayer yesterday. And if I go home now, I can pray the dawn prayer before time’s up.”

  “Oh.” I have never heard Hani talk about prayer or praying before—not that I’m friends with her or anything. Still, I didn’t even know she was someone who prayed consistently. I doubt she shares that with her friends, considering her hesitancy in telling even me. “You can’t pray here? I mean, we don’t have a prayer rug, but …”

  “Yeah, I could.” Hani nods. Abloom of pink tints her cheek like she’s embarrassed at having to ask. At having to occupy space to do this thing that makes her different from me.

  “Well … you know what?” I ask, slowly edging away toward my bedroom door. “I’m going to go downstairs and make us breakfast and … you come down whenever you’re ready. You can take anything from my wardrobe and use the bathroom. Or you can … not do any of those things. Your choice.” I shrug. “I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?” I don’t wait for her to speak before shutting the door behind me.

  Hani comes downstairs fifteen minutes later, with embarrassment still written all over her face. I just shoot her a smile and ask her to take a seat.

  “Your parents are still away?” she asks, looking around like Ammu and Abbu are just going to pop out from under the dinner table.

  “No … they’re probably still asleep.” I shrug. “I usually wake up early on the weekends to … study.”

  “Oh.” Hani regards me with some interest, before digging into her breakfast of porota and omelette. It’s the most I could do in just a few minutes.

  “You know you could have just fed me cereal,” Hani comments, happily eating away. “I wouldn’t have minded. You didn’t have to go to all the trouble of making this.”

  I shrug. “No big deal. Ammu and Abbu would have been annoyed if I just gave you cereal. You’re a guest.”

  “Right.” She nods. There’s a minute of near silence, where it’s just the sound of the two of us chewing. Then, Hani pauses and looks me in the eye.

  “You know, this is strange.”

  “… Sorry? I’m not a great cook.”

  “No.” She chuckles. “Being in your house and eating … porota and … praying in your bedroom. It’s strange. It’s … nice.”

  So, she did end up praying in my room. That makes me feel warm for some reason, but I try to ignore it.

  “Yeah, I guess,” I say. I’m not sure if I would call it nice, but it definitely is strange. If only because I would have never imagined this in a million years.

  “Thank you.” She stares down at her plate. “I can’t really be like this with my friends.”

  I want to ask her again, why. Why is she friends with people who don’t let her be who she is? Who make her feel uncomfortable and embarrassed of who she is? But I figure we’ve shared enough for the time being. Multiple deep conversations. A bed. Breakfast. That’s more than enough for an entire lifetime.

  “Don’t mention it.” I shrug, getting back to my breakfast.

  Ammu and Abbu still aren’t awake by the time we’re finished eating, but Hani pulls up the bus timetable on her phone.

  “If you wait for a little while, they can give you a lift,” I say.

  Hani shakes her head. “I don’t want to bother them; it’s the weekend.”

  I see Hani to the door, and she hovers there for a moment. It’s like neither of us really knows how to say goodbye.

  “Well … thanks,” Hani mumbles finally, not quite meeting my gaze. “I’ll see you at school on Monday, I guess.”

  After Hani leaves, I come upstairs to find my room exactly how I like it. The pajamas I lent her have been put away, and the bed is perfectly made. The thing is, even though everything is exactly how it normally is, something feels distinctly different about my bedroom. Like something of Hani is lingering here that I can’t get out of my mind. I can almost smell her shampoo and her perfume. I don’t know if it’s because she’s been in my room or because she’s on my mind.

  I shake my head and take out my school books.

  Time to get back to normal.

  chapter twenty-one

  hani

  I PROBABLY SHOULDN’T ACCEPT AN APOLOGY—OR anything—from my friends. I still keep checking my phone, expecting them to explain what happened the night before. Why they suddenly turned against me.

  It feels like a punishment for associating with Ishu when I know that Aisling doesn’t like her. But … Aisling wouldn’t really do that, would she?

  Getting everyone to vote Ishu Head Girl is the least I can do for her. Yesterday, she was the only person who acted like my friend. And this morning …

  I shake my head, trying to get her out of my mind.

  The thing is, I’m finding it increasingly difficult to not think about her. I don’t think anybody has made me feel the way Ishu has in a long time. Safe. Protected. Appreciated. Like myself.

  But I’m not supposed to feel like that around her.
We’re just pretending, and maybe she’s too good at that and I just haven’t realized.

  So, instead of focusing on Ishu, my friends’ betrayals, and all of my spiraling thoughts, I sit down with my Qur’an. The one thing that actually helps me center myself.

  “Bismillahir Rahmanir Raheem.” I begin.

  The buzzing of my phone distracts me from the Qur’an after more than an hour has passed. As soon as I pick up the phone, all of the peace and calmness I had been feeling immediately dissipates.

  Can we meet up? Dundrum?

  The text is from Aisling in our three-way group chat. It doesn’t spell good news.

  Sure, when?

  The dots indicating Aisling is typing appear almost instantly. A moment later her message appears:

  30 mins?

  Dee’s reply comes in immediately: perfect, see you then

  I can hardly leave them hanging. So I type back as well: see you.

  I take one last longing look at my Qur’an. I was in the midst of reading surah kaf. I place the ribbon on the page to mark my place before shutting the book with a thud.

  Mumbling an Ameen under my breath, I unwrap my headscarf and throw on a pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt. My hair is kind of a mess—hijab head—and I have no makeup on. But it’ll have to do if I want to be on time.

  When I get to our usual meeting place at Dundrum—the fountain at the front of the shopping center—Aisling and Dee are already there.

  They’re huddled together, deep in conversation. The sight of them makes my stomach drop and for some reason, all I want is Ishu by my side.

  “Hey, guys!” I paste the brightest smile I can manage on my lips as I approach them. “What’s up?”

  “Hey, Maira!” Dee’s voice is too chipper. Somehow, she’s wearing a full face of makeup. So is Aisling, actually. And they’re both dressed nicely. I wonder for a moment if they came here together—if they had been planning this. “You left the party pretty early yesterday.”

  “Yeah …” I say, unsure of how to follow it up. The thing is, I’ve never quite been good at confrontations. And I definitely don’t want to confront Dee and Aisling. Especially not like this: two against one with everyone at Dundrum around us. It’s too public. Too humiliating. So should I just ignore everything that happened at the party? Pretend that they had no part in it at all? That they didn’t make me feel horrible?

  “Come, sit.” Aisling pats the empty space beside her, and I gingerly prop myself up beside her.

  “So … why did you leave so early?” Dee presses, leaning forward as if to hear better.

  I shrug. “I was just … it was crowded and loud?”

  It’s obviously not the answer they were looking for because Aisling presses her lips into a thin line.

  “Look … I know you have a new girlfriend now or whatever,” Aisling says. “But that’s not a good reason to abandon your friends. We have boyfriends and we make time for you. We would never abandon you like that on your birthday.”

  I bite my lip to stop myself from replying how I really want to: with the truth about how they treated me. But I don’t. Instead, I just nod my head and say, “Yeah, I’m sorry. Ishu—Ishita … isn’t really a party person.” The words out of my lips make my stomach clench.

  Aisling rolls her eyes. “Why does that not surprise me?”

  Dee sighs. “What do you even like about Ishita? Like … you two seem pretty different from each other. You know you don’t have to be with her just because you guys are both from Bangladesh.”

  I shake my head. “Ishita isn’t even from Bangladesh. She’s Indian. And … she’s … nice and smart and … she … makes me feel good.”

  “Ew, like in a sexual way?” Aisling scrunches up her nose.

  “Are you even allowed to do that with her?” Dee asks. “I mean, because you’re Muslim and all?”

  I feel a blush of both embarrassment and rage crawl up my skin.

  “No, not in a sexual way.” I snap. “She’s just …” I sigh.

  “If you guys actually gave her a chance, you would like her. I’m sure of it,” I say even though I’m definitely not sure of it. Actually, I’m kind of sure of the exact opposite. Though maybe with some training I can get Ishu to be the kind of person that Aisling and Dee will like.

  “I don’t know …” Aisling shakes her head like she wants to give up even before she’s given Ishu a chance.

  “Come on.” I plead. “I’ve given Barry and Colm chances … I even spent that entire date with Fionn, though I didn’t like him at all. You can give my girlfriend a chance. I really like her.” And as I say it, I realize that it’s at least a little bit true.

  Dee and Aisling exchange a hesitant glance between them. After all the events of yesterday, I don’t expect them to concede. But then, Aisling shrugs her shoulders and says, “How about we go on a triple date next Saturday?”

  I can’t help the grin that appears on my lips. “I’ll check with Ishita, but that should be perfect. Thank you, guys!” As I throw my arms around the two of them, I’ve almost—almost—forgotten about everything that happened at the party.

  chapter twenty-two

  ishu

  “A TRIPLE DATE WITH AISLING AND DEE?”

  “… and their boyfriends,” Hani adds.

  “Oh, right. That helps. Because I love hanging out with the boyfriends of people I don’t like.”

  Hani smiles, and tosses her hair out of her eyes in a way that makes my stomach drop. It’s been almost an entire week since we last properly hung out with each other, though she always smiles at me at school, and she’s begun texting me random stuff. Every time my phone rings these days I get goosebumps and I fucking hate it.

  Having a crush—and I’ve decided that is unfortunately what I’m afflicted with—is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.

  “You know you’re not going to be Head Girl unless you put in some effort. Aisling and Dee have a lot of power,” she says. “As you saw at the party … you want other people to vote for you, you need to get them to like you.”

  “Might as well give up now,” I mumble under my breath, but obviously Hani hears me because the mic on my phone is exceptionally good for some reason.

  “Look, I can come help you out,” she says. “I know Aisling and Dee like the back of my hand.”

  “And how well exactly do you know the back of your hand?”

  “Come on,” Hani says. “You want this, right? You said you wanted to be Head Girl. I’m just trying to help you out.”

  “Fine.” I agree begrudgingly. “You can come help me out.

  You know the way to my place, right?”

  “Like … now?” The shock on Hani’s face is actually kind of adorable. I look away from the screen and roll my eyes. I definitely do not want to sound too eager. I can imagine Hani is one of those people who are all good with you until they know you have a crush on them. And if she doesn’t reciprocate it—and she definitely doesn’t—then she’s going to look at you like you’re a kicked puppy. I do not want anyone to look at me like that, least of all Hani. So I have to kill this ridiculous crush while it’s still young.

  “Saturday is just a couple of days away,” I point out. “So when else?”

  “Okay …” Hani stands up, and the light from the sun hits her in such a way that once again she’s transformed into an angel. I groan inwardly. It’s like the universe is conspiring against me. “Um, I’ll have to get changed and stuff first and then—”

  “What you’re wearing is fine,” I say. Though it’s more for my benefit than for hers. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Ammu!” I call down to her. She’s only just come back from the shop, and Abbu is still there. “Hani is coming over, okay?”

  “Again?” Ammu asks. “Why’s she at our house every day now?”

  I roll my eyes. “Ammu, she does not come to our house every day. She hasn’t been to our house since, like, last week … can she have dinner here?”
<
br />   “Okay, sure,” Ammu says, though she doesn’t sound particularly happy about it.

  When Hani rings the bell though, Ammu doesn’t even give me a chance to rush downstairs before she flings the door open. By the time I get downstairs, Ammu and Hani are already in the middle of a language-confused conversation.

  “Tell your Ammu and Abbu that next week there’s a dawat at our house,” Ammu is saying to her, even though I know for a fact that she was on the phone to Aunty just yesterday so they already know. Hani’s eyebrows are furrowed like she’s concentrating really hard on trying to understand what Ammu is saying.

  “Okay, I’ll tell them,” she finally says after a moment. “Hey.” The look of concentration on her face disappears as soon as she catches sight of me, and a smile stretches out on her lips. It sends a jolt of electricity through me that I ignore.

  “Ammu … can we go upstairs? Are you done inviting her to dawats?”

  Ammu rolls her eyes. “You took so long to come downstairs, am I supposed to ignore the guest?”

  “No, Ammu.” I sigh. “Sorry … we’re going upstairs, okay?” I almost want to add something about how Hani isn’t a guest—not really. She doesn’t quite feel like it. She fits into our house like she’s part of the family. She knows all of the cues, and how everything operates here. Sometimes I think better than even I do.

  Now, I motion for her to follow me and the two of us leave Ammu downstairs to head up to my bedroom.

  “Does your mom not remember inviting my mom to the dawat next week? I heard them on the phone the other day?”

  “Ammu is just not very good with young people. You should be glad she didn’t start asking about your results and your future.”

  “Thanks for saving me from that.” Hani flops down onto the bed once more. Like this is something she has done a thousand times. Like we’re friends, and she’s already used to all this.

  I sit down beside her, pulling my legs onto the bed and crossing them over each other.

  “So. Tell me all of these things I need to know about your best friends.”