by Lora Inak
‘Marhaban. Azeem, right?’
He looked up, startled. ‘Yes. You remembered.’
‘We talked not last Christmas, but the one before. You’re studying medicine?’
‘Yes.’
‘How’s that going?’
‘Good. I’m in my final year. Studying and doing shifts at hospitals. It’s the practical part of our study.’ He shuffled his feet.
‘Cool.’ Natalie saw Azeem sneak a peek at Misha. Was he into her? ‘You know my sister?’
‘No. Not really. I mean, I know who she is, but we’ve never spoken or anything.’ He peered at Misha again, less guarded this time.
Misha was showing Juliette something on her phone and waving her hands about.
‘Do you want to meet her?’
His dark eyes were hopeful. That clinched it; he definitely had the hots for Misha. Natalie’s love life was a mess, but his didn’t have to be, and besides, Misha would be rapt. Azeem was the right age, smart, nice and kind of cute. He’d be well off someday. Surely at least a six out of ten.
He wavered. ‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea.’
‘They won’t bite, I promise.’ She gave him a warm smile.
Misha and Juliette looked up as they approached. Oh no! Misha’s face made it pretty clear she wasn’t rapt at all. Natalie realised too late that this introduction would not be welcome, but there was no turning back now.
‘Ah … Misha, Juliette, this is Azeem.’
The girls exchanged raised eyebrows. Both were too polite to snub Azeem, so they greeted him with forced enthusiasm.
‘Marhaban.’ Azeem caught Misha’s eyes.
Misha’s cheeks coloured.
Juliette looked daggers at Natalie. Natalie shrugged. What could she do about it now? Why were they being so weird about this anyway?
Juliette grabbed Misha’s hand. ‘Yeah, nice to meet you. We’ve gotta go.’ She dragged Misha away.
‘I don’t think they like me,’ Azeem said after they’d gone.
Azeem was perceptive too. That should make him a seven out of ten. But why did Misha snub him? Was it his prosthetic leg? How ridiculous was that! She was ready to marry a dodgy guy who was years too old for her, but wouldn’t give Azeem a chance. This was typical of her sister’s hare-brained approach to life.
‘I think you’re okay.’
He smiled. ‘Shukran.’
‘You like my sister, don’t you?’
He didn’t reply, but the flush in his cheeks said it all.
Natalie didn’t normally play cupid, but the hopeful look she’d seen in Azeem’s eyes, and the way Misha had blushed when he’d held her gaze, drove her to play the part today.
‘Do you have your phone on you?’
He plucked one from his pocket. ‘Yes.’
She took it and punched her sister’s number in. Misha was going to kill her when she found out, but maybe with another potential suitor on the scene, Misha would finally forget about Jozef.
‘Wait a few days, and then call her,’ she instructed. ‘Compliment her. Tell her funny stories. Make her get to know you. Don’t give up easily. Oh ... and compliment her.’
‘I doubt she’ll want me to call.’
‘Don’t worry about that. Just do what I tell you, and you may have a chance. Be Prince Charming.’
She gave him a pat on the shoulder and left to meet the others in the hall. Azeem seemed like a good guy. He deserved her help.
Chapter 9
She couldn’t face Monday. She told her mother she had period cramps and was allowed to take the day off. She stayed in bed for most of the morning, thinking back to the party, cringing every time she remembered Chris’s face as she’d left him. Had she overreacted? What was wrong with her? She couldn’t take sick days forever.
She dragged herself out of bed late morning, had something to eat, noticed Mama had gone out, then dragged herself back to her room where she spent the next few hours working on the essay Mr Nelson had set. Mr Nelson said that to create a truly engaging piece of writing, you had to draw from within and connect on an emotional level with the reader.
She mulled over the topics she had to choose from and finally settled on: It was then I began to realise I could never grow up and be exactly like Wonder Woman.
It was a section from a short story in Alice Pung’s anthology called Destiny, written by Shalini Akhil. It was about an Indian girl who always dreamed of being like Wonder Woman, only to realise she would never be quite like her. Natalie made several false starts before she found herself thinking about Chris again, and how, for a short time at the party, she’d belonged; that she was a part of the group. He gave her that, made her feel that way.
Around three, her mother stormed through the door, slamming it forcefully behind her. Natalie rushed downstairs.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘What are you doing home?’ Mama barked.
‘You said I could stay home, remember. I wasn’t feeling well.’
‘Humph.’
She followed Mama into the kitchen, and watched with growing distress as she threw her handbag on the dining table, lit a cigarette and poured herself a glass of whisky. Another dark mood. Natalie wavered, torn between running to the safety of her room, or staying where she was and finding out what was going on.
‘Is everything okay?’
‘It’s fine. Leave me in peace.’ Mama kept her back to Natalie, taking long drags of her cigarette, her hand gripping the edge of the kitchen bench.
‘Can I help?’
Natalie expected her mother to yell at her, tell her to go to her room again or mind her own business. What she didn’t expect was for her to crumble into tears.
Hunched over, Mama sobbed, her body shuddering. The ash from her cigarette fell to the ground, scattering like fallen leaves. Natalie had never seen her mother cry. Not like this. At funerals and weddings and sometimes during the sad part in a movie, but never with such anguish. She didn’t know what to do. Her tongue was thick in her mouth. Whatever was wrong, it must be pretty bad.
‘Go,’ Mama cried. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘But …’
‘Please,’ she begged. ‘Go.’
Natalie couldn’t make her feet move. She couldn’t leave her mother wretched like this.
Mama turned to her, face awash with tears. ‘I … please. For now. Leave me.’
Natalie reluctantly obeyed. Every muscle in her neck and shoulders were concrete. What could make Mama cry like that? Was she sick? Dying? Natalie wanted to turn and run back, to wrap her arms around her. Tell her that whatever was wrong, everything would be okay, instead she holed herself up in her room until Baba came home.
‘Marhaban. Marhaban.’ Baba closed the front door behind him.
Cautiously, she came downstairs, her ears attuned to the kitchen. ‘How was work?’
‘Work was like … work,’ he chuckled. ‘What’s for dinner?’
‘Marhaban, Selim. How are you, my habibi?’ Mama’s voice fluttered from the kitchen. ‘We are having cheese borek tonight. I made it with lots of chilli, the way you like it.’
Was this the same sobbing woman from earlier?
‘You make the best pastries.’ Baba headed to the kitchen.
‘Do you really think so?’ Mama’s voice picked up.
‘Best in the whole world.’
‘Maybe I could take classes to learn to be a pastry chef?’
Natalie hovered outside the kitchen door, listening with interest. She never knew her mother wanted to be a pastry chef. Wanted to be something other than what she was.
‘Why? What for? No, no, no. You don’t need to learn how, you’re already like the best French chefs.’ She heard Baba kiss Mama.
‘But I could work at a restaurant, or bakery, and earn money for our fam
ily,’ Mama replied, her voice still light, hopeful.
‘Work! No. We have plenty of money. Besides, the girls need you here.’
‘The girls are grown now, Selim. They’re independent.’
‘That’s enough, Selma. Let’s not talk of this anymore.’ Baba used his and-that’s-final tone.
‘Oh. Of course. You’re right.’ Mama’s voice fell.
They ate dinner with Mama fawning over Baba, asking him about his day, giving him an impromptu massage to help ease his stress, insisting he have second and third helpings of dinner. When Misha complained about her recurring pins and needles, Mama gave her a massage too. Natalie was completely ignored. She sensed that Mama was deliberately avoiding her eyes. If it weren’t for that, she would have wondered if she’d imagined the episode earlier that afternoon.
The doorbell rang.
Mama sat up straight, her body rigid.
Baba wiped his mouth and stood to answer the door.
Mama jumped to her feet, laying a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ll get it. You all stay here and finish your food. It’s probably just someone wanting a donation for a charity. I don’t know why they always come during dinner.’ She shut the kitchen door behind her.
Her sister and father ate their meals, oblivious, while Natalie battled with the food lodged in her throat. Something was really wrong. She hadn’t imagined it. Mama was jumpy, nervous. She was overly attentive and wearing a smile that slipped easily from her face. How could Misha and Baba not notice?
There was a murmur of voices. They stopped eating, heads cocked. The murmurs grew louder.
‘STOP!’ Mama suddenly yelled.
Baba jumped to his feet and rushed out of the kitchen. Her heart thumping, Natalie followed with Misha close behind.
‘Leave. Go away. Leave.’ Mama pushed her weight against the door.
Gripping Mama’s elbow, Baba pulled her away and yanked the door open. ‘What is this about?’ he roared. ‘Marina? Abdul?’
‘It’s nothing, Selim.’ Mama’s hands shook. ‘Marina and Abdul were just leaving. It’s nothing.’
‘Is that w … what we are, S … S … Selma?’ Marina said, bejewelled hands on hips. ‘N ... n ... nothing?’
Abdul stood meekly, his brow beaded with sweat, his eyes apologetic.
‘I told you I will sort it out. Why do you come here? During our dinner? Disturb us. For nothing.’
‘Again you say “n … n … nothing”.’ Marina flared up. ‘Is my m … m … money n … n … nothing to you?’
‘It’s nothing to you,’ Mama bit back. ‘You have many, many thousands. Everyone knows that. You pour money on yourself. All your gold and diamonds.’
‘What I do with my m … m … money is not your b … business.’ Marina’s eyes narrowed.
‘What is this about?’ Misha whispered. ‘I’m not getting any of it.’
‘Marina,’ Baba’s voice was even. ‘Please tell me. What is the problem?’
‘Your wife owes m … me one thousand five hundred d … dollars.’ Marina crossed her arms over her chest. Abdul inched closer to her, shoulders slumped.
‘Liar,’ Mama screamed, waving her hands about. ‘You’re a liar.’
‘How d … dare you call m … me a liar.’ Marina took a threatening step towards Mama. ‘You are the l … liar. Your husband d … doesn’t even know you owe us m … m … money.’
Baba put his hand out to stop Marina from moving any closer. He turned to Mama. ‘Do you owe Marina money?’
She paused, lips pursed. ‘Yes, I owe her some money. But not that much.’
‘How much?’
‘Only one thousand dollars.’
Beside Natalie, Misha gasped.
Baba closed his eyes and took a long breath, the colour draining from his face. ‘We have plenty of money, Selma. Why did you borrow money from Marina and Abdul?’
‘There were bills I had to pay and I lost my credit card. I needed a dress for the wedding. Money for groceries, everyday needs. Selim, I was going to pay them back, but she comes to our home uninvited, accusing me like I’m a thief and I …’
‘Quiet,’ Baba silenced her, his face splotchy.
He pulled out a wad of notes from his pocket and handed it to Marina. ‘This is five hundred dollars. On Sunday, at church, I will give you the rest.’
Marina shoved the money into her handbag and nodded to Baba. ‘Perhaps you should k … keep a t … tighter l … leash on your wife.’ She gave Mama a departing look full of bitter hate.
The house fell silent. Mama put her hand on Baba’s arm, but he shrugged it off.
‘Selim. Please listen.’
Baba held up his hand to silence her. ‘Girls, go upstairs.’
‘But, Baba,’ Misha began.
‘Go upstairs. Now.’ His voice shook. ‘Your Mama and I must talk in private.’
Natalie ran upstairs with Misha. They climbed into her bed together like they used to do as little girls. Misha buried her face in her hands and all Natalie wanted to do was throw the blanket over her head and disappear into the darkness.
‘This is awful. Everyone in the community is gonna hear about it. How will we ever show our faces at church again?’ Misha sobbed.
‘Mama just borrowed some money. That’s all. Lots of people borrow money. No one will talk.’ She wanted to believe that. She really did. But why had Mama borrowed the money? As far as she knew, they had plenty. They weren’t super rich or anything, but well off enough to have a beautiful home in Wantirna, two cars in the garage, nice clothes …
‘Yes, but she didn’t pay them back. That’s the shameful part.’ Misha flopped onto her back. ‘I bet when Jozef and his family hear of this, they’ll thank Allah things didn’t happen between us. A lucky escape, they’ll say.’
‘Who cares about them.’ Natalie was sick of hearing about it. As far as she was concerned, it was a lucky escape for her family. She had the urge to tell Misha what she’d overhead about him, but she stopped, remembering she wasn’t even meant to know herself.
‘This will be a black mark against our family name,’ Misha continued. ‘Oh, Allah. My chances of making a good match are ruined.’
Was that all her sister cared about? ‘Seriously, Misha, you are totally shallow. If you don’t shut the hell up I’ll …’
‘Wait.’ Misha sprang off the bed. ‘They’re arguing.’
They stuck their heads out into the hallway.
‘Who cares what they think,’ Mama screamed. ‘I didn’t kill anyone. I just borrowed some money. I was going to pay her back, but she couldn’t wait. The uppity bitch couldn’t wait.’
‘Stop it. Instead of saying sorry, you’re calling them names.’
‘I can call them whatever I like.’
‘Watch what you say. Have some respect for the people in our community.’
‘So you’re taking their side?’
‘Am I supposed to take yours?’
‘I’m your wife.’
‘Should I take the side of a wife that borrows money from strangers instead of asking for it from me, her husband? Should I side with a wife who lies and shames me?’
‘What’s going on?’ Misha inched further out into the hallway.
Natalie shook her head. She wished she knew. At least now she understood what the altercation at church between her mother and Marina was about. One mystery unravelled, many more left to solve, like why Mama borrowed the money from them instead of asking Baba, or Aunty Jasmina or even Uncle Sami, or why she hadn’t gone into the bank and withdrawn the money the old fashioned way.
CRASH. CRASH. SMASH.
They bounded downstairs to the kitchen. Grasping Mama’s arm, Baba’s other hand was raised, his fist balled. Smashed glass and pools of whisky littered the floor.
‘Let go. LET GO,’ Mama cried, y
anking her arm, her face carved in misery.
‘Mama,’ Misha gasped.
Natalie couldn’t speak, her voice had evaporated, just like the happy family she thought they were. The scene before her wasn’t real. No. Surely that wasn’t her father ready to strike. Just a stranger wearing his face. And that couldn’t be her mother, kneeling on the floor shaking with fear. Her chest shuddered.
Baba turned to them. His face ashen, his knuckles white against Mama’s upper arm.
‘Leave us,’ he barked.
Misha collapsed in tears.
It would have been a relief to pour her fear out, but no tears came to Natalie’s eyes. Instead, her legs moved. They moved towards Baba. She wasn’t sure why, or even what she’d do when she got to him. Her heart pounded so hard, her eyes clouded over. Breathe, breathe. Walking carefully around the broken glass, she held Baba’s eyes and shook her head. ‘No, Baba,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t.’
He loosened his grip, his lips quivering.
Natalie gently took his hand and pried his fingers off Mama’s arm. ‘Please don’t do this.’
‘I …’ His face crumpled in anguish. ‘I ... ’
What was burning inside him? Was he comparing himself to his own father? He had never so much as raised a hand to any of them before. But was it in him to do this? A flaw passed down from father to son?
Misha ran to Mama and embraced her. They wept into each other’s arms.
Jaw tight, Natalie took Baba and gently led him upstairs to his room and onto his bed. He lay down silently and folded himself up into a ball. He began to sob. Quietly at first, and then harder and harder until his whole body shook.
‘I’m sorry,’ he groaned. ‘I’m so sorry.’
She wanted to tell him it was going to be okay, but she wasn’t really sure it would. Instead, she shut the door and left him alone, reflecting how not so long ago she’d thought her father was a happy-go-lucky, uncomplicated man. How wrong she’d been.
In the dark stillness of her room, she exhaled.
Chapter 10
Natalie unlocked her locker, grabbed her maths textbook and darted out again; relieved she’d managed to avoid Chris again.
