Unspoken Rules

by Lora Inak

  Her heart leapt in her chest. She forced herself to calm down. Breath In. Breath Out. In. Out. In. Out. She gazed at the fire, blurring her eyes so that the reds, oranges and yellows blended. Now it was going to be even harder to tell him. Why did he have to do all this? She should never have agreed to come.

  ‘Do you like it?’ He held her hand. ‘I wanted it to be really special.’

  She nodded, swallowing hard. Maybe she was overreacting again. Maybe this was just a birthday dinner and nothing more.

  ‘Take a seat.’ Chris lowered her onto the picnic rug. ‘I have to finish up in the kitchen. I’ll be back in a moment.’

  Natalie gazed around the room, taking it all in. The enormity of it was beginning to weigh on her. He must have planned this for days, wanting it to be perfect … for them. She closed her eyes. No one had done anything like this for her before. Head spinning, she came to the sickening conclusion that she couldn’t wait until after term break, she had to tell him now. Had to put a stop to this before it went any further.

  ‘Entrée is served.’ Chris came in with two plates and a bottle of champagne.

  ‘Oh my God!’

  He’d made stuffed green peppers. A Middle Eastern dish she knew from experience was time consuming and complicated.

  He smiled, his face bathed in firelight. ‘I’m sure it’s not as good as your mum’s, but Dad was pretty happy when I tested it on him. I think even he’s sick of frozen meals.’

  ‘Chris …’

  Now. She had to tell him now. She tried to, but those words stuck. ‘This is so … so amazing. I can’t believe you cooked for me.’

  ‘Tuck in then.’ Chris popped the champagne and poured them both a glass. ‘Happy birthday.’ He leaned across and gave her a kiss.

  Reluctantly, she decided to wait for a better moment. The stuffed peppers weren’t as good as her mother’s, but they were still really good. So was the main dish, also Middle Eastern—a slow-cooked lamb with slivered almonds, raisins and mince lamb rice. The dessert was store bought baklava. Chris joked that his culinary skills only stretched so far. Having expected spaghetti bolognaise at best, and despite her emotional turmoil, Natalie was pretty impressed.

  By the time dessert was over, her head was still spinning, but now it was from the three glasses of champagne she’d drunk. Thoughts of telling Chris the truth nagged at the back of her mind, but she was too wrapped up in the amazing night he’d created for her. Just for her. It was by far the best birthday she’d ever had. He even gave her an expensive leather-bound travel diary, so that she could record her adventures as a foreign correspondent.

  They talked about everything. School, the formal, friends, sports, travel, fascinating facts. The one thing they didn’t talk about was sex, but Natalie knew Chris was wondering about it. She could see it in his eyes, the way he looked at her, the way he touched her and played with her hair. She took deep breaths to calm the butterflies going crazy inside her. She really had to tell him … she knew that, but the champagne was fuddling her mind, dulling it, making it hard to think.

  ‘And that is the last of the champagne,’ Chris announced, sculling the dregs in his glass.

  Natalie giggled, her limbs weak. ‘Good thing. Any more and I might get up and belly dance for you.’

  ‘Damn it. I should have bought another bottle.’

  ‘No, seriously,’ she snorted, ‘you wouldn’t want to see me belly dance. I’m not very coordinated. Misha calls me a jellyfish—like, as in, my arms and legs just flail around. Picture a big jellyfish with a tasselled bra and a belt of golden coins.’

  ‘Mmm. Sounds pretty sexy to me.’

  ‘What? You’re totally weird.’

  ‘Nah, just weird about you.’

  It took all her will power not to chicken out. It was now or never. She had to tell him. ‘Chris. I … um.’

  Before she could speak, he crawled over, held her face and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was so fierce; it knocked the wind out of her. He pinned her body against his, slowly lowering himself on top of her. His weight felt right. So good, she couldn’t even remember what she was about to say.

  He slipped his hand under her top, running his hand gently up and down her chest and stomach, setting fire to her skin. He fiddled with the clasp of her bra, unclipped it and tentatively cupped her breasts. She’d never let him take her bra off before. A small voice in the corner of her mind protested, but she was too busy unbuttoning his shirt to listen.

  He stripped off his shirt and tie. Through glazed eyes, she devoured his body. It was so beautiful, so smooth. She ran her hands up and down his chest and along his torso, revelling in the warm softness of his skin.

  He sat her up and pulled her top over her head. She shivered, goose bumps covering her bare skin.

  Stop, the voice whispered again. But she ignored it. She didn’t want to stop. Why should she?

  He took off his belt and shuffled out of his pants.

  Stop, the voice said, louder this time. She hesitated, but only until Chris planted a line of hot kisses down her neck, making her forget why she’d stopped in the first place. Her skin tingled from the tips of her fingers to the soles of her feet, and everywhere in between.

  She was in a fever, a craze, barely thinking, desperate for him to be even closer to her. When Chris slipped his hand under her skirt and between her legs, the voice screamed.

  STOP.

  ‘No,’ she gasped, pushing his hands away. ‘Please, stop.’ She crossed her arms over her chest, her stomach convulsing. ‘We can’t do this. I mean … I can’t.’

  Chris sat up, dazed.

  She found her bra and top and yanked them both on, her legs shaking. ‘I should have said something before.’

  He grabbed her arm. ‘Natalie, just stop for a minute. What’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing is going on … that’s just it. Nothing can go on.’ She was fighting back tears as she tried to pull away from him. ‘Please let go.’

  ‘Not until you tell me what this is all about. If you’re still not ready, then fine. I’ll wait.’

  ‘Then you might be waiting forever.’ The words tumbled from her mouth. She covered her face with her hands, afraid to look at him.

  Chris let go of her arm. ‘Why?’

  She slowly pulled her hands away, but kept her eyes downcast. ‘In my culture, girls have to be virgins until their wedding night. A girl who’s had sex is considered “soiled”.’

  ‘But … all this time. You and me …’

  She moved her eyes to his. ‘I don’t want it to be this way. I want to be free to make my own decisions, just like you and Katelyn, and everyone else at school—but it’s not like that for me. If I slept with you, and my parents found out, I don’t know what they’d do. And … it would mean I couldn’t marry anyone from my own community.’

  She didn’t even know if she ever wanted to marry someone from her community, but having sex with Chris would mean she never could. It was just another choice that would be taken away from her.

  ‘And …’ If she was going to rip the Band-Aid, she may as well rip it right off. ‘I lied about coming to the formal with you. My parents wouldn’t let me go.’

  He shook his head. ‘Why didn’t you say anything before?’

  ‘Because I want to go to the formal. Because I want to have sex with you. When we first started hanging out, I liked the way I felt with you. Then things started getting more serious, and I knew I should end it. I tried to, but I couldn’t let you go. And then it was too late.’ She put her shoes on and stood. Her knees buckled, so she held onto the couch.

  ‘Too late?’ Still kneeling, he took her hand. ‘Too late for what?’

  She wanted to tell him she was in love with him. She could see he wanted to hear her say it. But what was the point in telling him now? It would only make things harder.


  ‘Too late for everything.’ She yanked her hand out of his, grabbed her coat and opened the front door. A cold gust of wind slapped her in the face. She turned back. He sat there wretched; face pale, wearing nothing but his underwear.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ She ran out the door before the tears could spill down her cheeks.

  She half-ran, half-walked all the way home, glad the cold wind numbed her face. She hoped it would numb her heart too. Maybe then she wouldn’t be so twisted up. Sick from it all—from everything she’d done to let things get this far. She’d led him on, let him love her. Let herself love him when all the time, she knew it couldn’t go anywhere. She’d hurt him. He didn’t deserve it, not after how wonderful he’d been to her. How loving, how sweet, how thoughtful. She wouldn’t cry. She didn’t deserve to cry.

  As she neared home, she stopped, realising she’d left her gift behind. The full moon painted the dark streets in long shadows. She let the darkness wrap her up. Tears rolled slowly down her face. She wiped them away. No. She didn’t deserve to indulge in tears. She reached into her coat pocket for a tissue but found her phone instead. She checked it. Shit. Three missed calls from home. She’d promised to be home by ten o’clock and it was close to midnight.

  She ran the rest of the way home. The lights were still on.

  ‘Natalie,’ Baba called as soon as she walked through the door. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘Yes.’ It was a battle to keep the emotion out of her voice.

  ‘Come here.’

  She didn’t need this. Not tonight. She trudged into the living room. It was dark except for the light from the television. Baba was alone, watching the late news. Mama must already be in bed. Natalie knew she was in trouble. She could tell from the tight press of his lips.

  ‘I’m sorry I’m late. Katelyn’s family wanted to go for a walk along the river after dinner, and I couldn’t really ask them to bring me home. It would have been rude, especially since they paid for me.’ The excuse came easily.

  ‘If these people can’t bring you home at a reasonable hour, then maybe you should stop seeing this friend of yours.’ He sat forward in his armchair.

  ‘No,’ she blurted, heart pounding. ‘Katelyn’s my best friend. I won’t stop seeing her. You can’t make me stop being friends with someone just because of your stupid unfair rules.’

  Baba jerked, sitting up straighter. ‘What is this disrespect?’

  She knew she should just apologise. Promise it wouldn’t happen again and go to bed with her tail between her legs. That was what was expected of her. But she was sick of living by other people’s rules. She was empty inside, and she didn’t care about anything anymore.

  ‘I’m eighteen years old. Why can’t I go out with a friend and her family until midnight?’

  This was absurd! She hadn’t even been out with Katelyn, and here she was arguing about it. But it was the principle of it that mattered. And besides, arguing helped release her pent-up feelings about Chris.

  If it hadn’t been so dark, Natalie was sure she would have seen Baba’s face go red. He wasn’t used to being challenged. ‘It doesn’t matter how old you are. As long as you live under my roof, you’ll act by my rules.’

  ‘Then maybe I won’t live under your roof anymore.’ What was she saying? She had nowhere to go.

  Baba stood, towering over her. ‘What is that supposed to mean? Are you threatening to leave?’

  Her legs shook. In fact, her whole body did, yet, at the same time, every muscle was tight, ready to snap. She was afraid he might strike her, like with Mama, but she was determined not to cower before him. She could accept not going to the formal, but her ambitions for her future were bigger than that. More important. ‘I’m applying for a course in Brisbane. I’m going to study to be a foreign correspondent. It’s what I want to do more than anything else.’ Blurting it out made it real somehow, made it concrete. She knew now that it was what she truly wanted.

  ‘If you leave for this course, you leave this house … for good. Understand?’ Baba’s voice boomed.

  ‘Selim,’ Mama whispered from the doorway. ‘What are you saying?’

  Natalie wondered how long she’d been there. How much she’d heard.

  He balled his hands. ‘If she leaves for this course, then the door will be locked when she returns.’

  ‘No, Selim. No.’

  Natalie blinked furiously. She would not cry. Not in front of him.

  She’d known her parents wouldn’t be happy about her plans to study interstate, but she hadn’t expected her father to disown her. Her heart thundered in her ears. ‘Aren’t you supposed to love me unconditionally?’ she choked, her voice barely a whisper.

  ‘Of course he does, habibi.’ Mama rushed over and wrapped her arms around her. ‘We both love you so, so much.’

  ‘That’s not what it sounds like to me.’ She held her father’s eyes. ‘He’ll only accept me if I do what he says, and live how he tells me to.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Mama insisted, but the doubt was crystal clear in her voice. She, too, lived by Baba’s rules, but also the unspoken rules of their culture and community.

  ‘Then why doesn’t he tell me that himself?’

  Baba stood his ground, the veins in his neck strained against the skin. He said nothing.

  Natalie tore herself away and ran upstairs.

  Chapter 21

  Wearing a flimsy gown, Misha stood by the door of the MRI room, one hand holding Natalie’s, the other holding the back of her gown closed. Natalie wasn’t allowed inside, but she caught a glimpse as Misha walked in. There was a huge donut-shaped scanner that led into a narrow tunnel with monitors and cords beside it. The room was stark, brightly lit; sterile. Everything was white or grey; spotlessly clean and orderly. It was unnerving. She wished she could go in with Misha. To tell her it would be okay; tell her to think of happy things when she was inside the dark, airless MRI for close to an hour. God knows Misha needed that.

  Later that day in the consulting room, she and Misha watched the dark-haired Neurologist study digital images of Misha’s brain on his computer.

  ‘Can you please tell us if something’s wrong?’ Natalie couldn’t stand the excruciating silence any longer.

  The Neurologist looked up at Misha. ‘The scan shows some lesions on your brain and spinal cord. These can affect the nerve signals travelling from your brain to your body, which can cause weakness or funny sensations in a particular part of your body. They may feel like pins and needles. There are a few things that can cause this, but in your case, with your history, the most likely thing would be multiple sclerosis.’ He said it calmly, so matter of fact that at first, Natalie didn’t really grasp his meaning.

  Misha’s chest stilled. She stared blankly at the doctor. Then she crumpled, covering her face and wailing.

  No. This was just a dream. A bad, bad, bad dream. It had to be. This couldn’t be happening to Misha. Twenty-three-year-olds didn’t get MS.

  ‘What do you mean multiple sclerosis? What caused it?’ Natalie croaked, her throat full of sand.

  The Neurologist moved the tissue box closer to them, his face impassive. He’d just smashed Misha’s life to pieces, and he sat there aloof and professional. She wanted to scream.

  ‘MS is an autoimmune condition but what causes it is not clear,’ he replied, adjusting his glasses. ‘Please understand that this is not a death sentence. Far from it. In fact, most people suffering from MS will have a life expectancy similar to those without the disease. With the right medication and diet, you can still live a normal life; even have children.’

  That made Misha wail even louder. Natalie wrapped her arms around her sister, blinking back her own tears.

  They left with another appointment, and a brochure titled ‘Living with MS’. The Neurologist also warned Misha not to drive until she was on medication. The risk of her
eyes going grey and causing a car accident was too great.

  Natalie drove them home, donning her new P-plates, trying to stifle the turmoil inside her. She swallowed several times before she could trust herself to speak. ‘You know,’ she said with feigned positivity, ‘maybe it’s all just a mistake. We should see another specialist. You know, for a second opinion.’

  Misha shook her head, wiping her swollen eyes. ‘I knew it. I knew something was wrong with me. I had this heavy feeling inside me. I kept hoping I was wrong, but hearing the doctor say it … it’s no mistake, Natalie.’

  She couldn’t argue with that. She knew that feeling. ‘Please promise me you’ll tell Mama and Baba now.’

  ‘Not today. I … I need to let it all sink in, okay? Please let me do this when I’m ready.’

  Natalie nodded, wondering if this nightmare would ever really sink in. Wondering what the future held for her sister now.

  They arrived home to an empty house. Mama and Baba were out, and the quiet unnerved her. Natalie was on edge a lot lately. Especially over the past four weeks when her father had barely said a word to her, and she to him. To add to that, Chris was avoiding her and homework was being piled on at school. Mama was drinking like a fish and smoking like a chimney. And now Misha. God, how would Mama cope when she found out about Misha?

  A wave of anger swelled in Natalie’s chest and choked the air from her lungs. It was all so unfair. Why did this have to happen to Misha. Misha was young. She was good. She followed all the rules, adhered to the expectations. She read the Bible, and went to church willingly every Sunday. She prayed and devoutly believed in God. She’d finally found the love of her life, was planning on getting married and starting a family—and now this.

  Natalie ran upstairs to her room, the anger coiling tighter in her belly. She buried her head in a pillow and screamed. She screamed and kicked and punched the bed until she was exhausted. She lay there quietly, staring at her pear tree, the branches naked, the birds and their babies gone. She wished she couldn’t feel anything. Could turn it all off and be numb. Maybe then, she could shut out everything that was falling apart around her.