Unspoken Rules

by Lora Inak

  Was Aunty Jasmina right? She’d never thought of herself that way before, but did that mean she’d end up like Mama? Floating through life, unfulfilled. No. That’s not what she wanted, but she was stuck, restricted by the community and culture she was born into. By the unspoken rules she was expected to live by. It was well and good for Aunty Jasmina to talk about long-term change, but what about now? She needed things to be different right now.

  ‘How can I shake things up when I can’t even convince Baba to let me study interstate?’ she blurted.

  ‘Bah … your baba doesn’t have a leg to stand on. If I were you,’ Aunty Jasmina said, winking, ‘I’d get his consent while he is desperate to make amends. My baba was just like yours,’ she continued. ‘You must know the beast. Figure out how to play them. It’s an art every woman needs to learn.’

  Aunty Jasmina was so conniving. Perhaps she was right too. Things were better for her generation. They did have more choices. So maybe, all she had to do was choose, to have the courage to walk a different way.

  Suddenly, heavy footsteps pounded down the hall. Baba came rushing in, Uncle Sami close behind.

  Chapter 24

  ‘Selma. Oh Allah!’ Baba gasped, his voice thick.

  He crumbled into a chair and clasped Mama’s hand. ‘Is she all right?’

  Aunty Jasmina answered. ‘She’s weak, but she will recover.’

  Baba sobbed, his shoulders slouched, his face in his hands.

  Tears sprang to Natalie’s eyes. She could see her father’s sorrow in every line of his face, in the hollow of his eyes. He regretted what he did. That much was clear. She laid a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Tell me,’ Baba whispered, covering her hand with his. ‘How did this happen?’

  Natalie took a breath, wondering where to start, but Aunty Jasmina spoke first.

  ‘Selim, you know your wife. But you’ve never really understood her.’

  Baba’s back stiffened, but he said nothing.

  ‘Selma is like a bird. Birds that are cooped up in cages wither and die. She needs to be free, to fly. She needs challenges in her life. She wants to learn, to experience, to grow.’

  ‘I’ve never locked her in the house. Never said she couldn’t go out. Never.’

  ‘I don’t mean it like that, Selim,’ Aunty Jasmina said. ‘Selma took up gambling because she felt empty, she wanted independence. The thrill of winning filled the void, made her feel like she was earning her “own” money.’

  Natalie had never made that link, not once this past tumultuous fortnight. How had she missed it? She knew Mama was unhappy, had sensed it these past months, but never put two and two together.

  Aunty Jasmina crossed her arms over her chest. ‘You know what she’s like, how sensitive she is, how up and down her moods can be. You punished Selma for her crimes, and then left her to wallow in her misery. And here, see where it almost ended.’

  ‘I made a mistake,’ Baba said, his voice hoarse. ‘I will never, never, never do it again. I know what it’s like to have it done to me.’ He jabbed himself in the chest. He turned to Natalie, eyes wet. ‘My baba was a cold-hearted, heavy-handed man. I never told you or Misha about my past. I was too ashamed. He beat my mother almost every day. Sometimes it was just a slap across the face, but other times, he used his fists, his walking stick, his feet. And if my brother or I tried to protect her, he’d give us the same treatment. At first I used to cry when he hurt me, but then I learned to hold it in. Hide it. Tell people I’d fallen down or run into a door. Deep down I knew they knew the truth, but I was too proud to admit what was really going on.’ Tears ran down Baba’s face. ‘Too proud to ask for help. But I won’t be like him. I’d rather die first.’

  Heart beating furiously, Natalie wiped her eyes. She wanted to tell him she understood, that she could forgive him, but her throat was too thick for words.

  Uncle Sami rubbed his forehead. ‘We know what you’ve been through, Selim. We know you’re a good man. It was a mistake. You have both made mistakes.’

  ‘What should I do?’ Baba asked. ‘How should this be fixed?’

  ‘You must ask Selma when she wakes up.’ Uncle Sami replied, his face drawn, new lines around his eyes Natalie hadn’t seen before. ‘I must head home, back to Jacquie and the children. I’ll return in the morning. Jasmi, call me and let me know when she wakes up.’

  As they kissed goodbye, Natalie wondered where Misha and Azeem were. Should she go looking for them? Tell Misha their father had finally resurfaced. Opened up about his past. It was so hard to see him like this, perhaps it was better that Misha wasn’t here. She had enough on her mind.

  Natalie sighed, a heaviness settling in her middle. She’d aged a hundred years. Perhaps it wasn’t just turning eighteen that made you an adult, or having sex, or getting your driver licence. Life pushed you into adulthood through trials and challenges. She’d always thought growing up would be so great, and in some ways it was. But then again, in some ways it wasn’t. Growing up made things sharper, harsher somehow.

  Aunty Jasmina gasped.

  Mama’s eyes were open. ‘Selim,’ she breathed.

  ‘Don’t speak, Selma. Save your energy. It’s going to be fine.’

  ‘You’re here.’

  ‘I came as soon as I heard.’

  Mama clutched Baba’s arm and tried to sit up. ‘I’m sorry, Selim. Please forgive me. Look, I’ve made you cry. I’m so ashamed. I’m no good at being a mother or a wife.’

  Baba shook his head. ‘No. You’re wrong. We have had a tough year, that’s all. But think of the twenty-four wonderful years we’ve already shared. God is testing us, Selma. Testing our love for one another. I know I haven’t been a good husband to you lately, but I’ve always loved you. Always will.’

  They looked at each other with so much love, it hurt to watch.

  ‘I was a fool, Selim. I risked my life, our life, our children. I just felt so hopeless.’

  ‘If you’re a fool, then so am I,’ Baba replied. ‘I’ve come to see that now. I’ve been blind. When you get home, things are going to be different. Better.’

  ‘How?’ Hope shone in Mama’s eyes.

  Yes. How? Natalie was eager to know too.

  ‘Remember when you said you wanted to do a course in pastry. I want you to sign up. Before we were married, you used to paint, so paint a picture of our family, Selma. Something we can hang for everyone to see.’

  Mama’s face filled with light. ‘My habibi. My sweet habibi.’ She pulled him closer and held him with all her strength. ‘Shukran. Shukran.’

  Baba took Mama’s hand and kissed it over and over again.

  ‘Will things change for everyone?’ Aunty Jasmina cut in.

  Baba looked up, his eyebrows knotted.

  ‘What about your daughter? Natalie has dreams to study. Will you let her?’ Aunty Jasmina held Baba’s gaze, challenging him to prove the truth of his words.

  Baba turned to Natalie. ‘In all this, you have been so strong. Shown you are older than your years. This, I see now. Last time we spoke about your plans for the future, it was in anger. Let’s sit down and talk about this like two adults. Make plans together. ’

  Natalie’s spirit rose. He was actually considering it! ‘Baba. Are you saying you might give me your blessing?’

  He stood and wrapped an arm around her. ‘I’m saying that I want to hear more about your plans. Learn about this course. When and where it is. Why it’s so important to you.’

  ‘Shukran, Baba. That means a lot to me.’

  It wasn’t a definite yes, but it wasn’t a no either. There was a new openness in Baba, one that hadn’t been there before, one that filled Natalie with hope.

  ‘One beautiful daughter happy, but where is my other one?’ Mama’s mouth was soft, turned up at the ends.

  ‘I’ll go find her.’

&nb
sp; Natalie ran down the hall, her feet barely touching the ground. After weeks of turmoil, it finally felt as if everything would be okay. She spotted them huddled on a couch near the cafeteria, arms entwined, heads touching, oblivious to everyone around them. Should she leave them alone in their happy bubble? No. She knew Misha would want to know Mama had woken up.

  ‘Mish, Mama is awake. And Baba is with her.’

  Misha jumped to her feet. ‘How is she? How are they?’

  Azeem stood, taking Misha’s hand. Had Misha told Azeem about her illness? Misha saw the question in her eyes.

  ‘It’s okay. I told him everything. About Mama and Baba. About me. And,’ Misha breathed, smiling, ‘he still wants to marry me.’

  Misha took Azeem’s face in both hands and kissed him.

  ‘Come on you two, give it a rest. Let’s go. Mama is waiting.’ Natalie laughed.

  Misha threaded her arm around Azeem’s waist and gazed into his eyes. ‘Would you like to come and meet Mama and Baba?’

  Azeem smiled. ‘Are you sure? It’s not customary for me to meet them like this.’

  Eyes sparkling, Misha flicked her hand. ‘That custom is so dated. Besides, I’ll need all the support I can get for what I’m about to tell them.’

  Azeem’s smile faded. ‘I’m with you all the way. Forever. Don’t forget that.’

  Chapter 25

  ‘Ouch,’ Misha yelped. ‘You’re pulling my hair.’

  ‘Then stop wriggling,’ Natalie demanded.

  ‘I’m wriggling because you’re pulling my hair.’

  ‘Girls. Stop fighting.’ Mama swanned into the bathroom and put a glass of water and two white pills on the vanity. She opened the window to let in the fresh spring air. ‘Misha, please take your medicine. You know what the doctor said. You can’t miss any. And I bought you those multivitamins he suggested, so take them after dinner. How are the pins and needles?’

  ‘Not too bad today.’ Misha swallowed the pills.

  Mama gazed at her, eyes soft. ‘My habibi. I wish it were me instead of you.’ She straightened her shoulders, flicked back her glossy hair and took the brand new curling iron from Natalie. ‘Go shower and get ready. Azeem and his family will be here soon. Quick. I’ll finish Misha’s hair.’

  Letting the warm water melt her muscles, Natalie thought about the last time she was getting ready for her sister’s suitor. That was eight months ago, but it felt like decades since Jozef came to visit. He wasn’t right for Misha, but Azeem was perfect, so perfect that God must have sent him especially. The way he’d explained Misha’s illness to her parents, assuring them with love shining in his eyes that he’d take care of her, make sure Misha stayed healthy and took care of herself. It was nothing short of magic. Natalie had expected her mother to freak out, but Mama stayed calm, her trembling lips the only sign of grief. In fact, since Mama came home from the hospital six weeks ago, she was a different person. Even-tempered, strong, settled. And happy. Except for every now and then, when she looked at Misha and got all teary. It was like, somehow, she blamed herself. Mama was also honest enough to admit she still had the urge to gamble, said it was like a drug that would take time to leave her system. But she was seeing a counsellor and Aunty Jasmina and Aunt Jacquie were over a lot, to help support her through the difficult days. She gave her credit cards to Baba and asked him to give them back when she could trust herself again.

  It hadn’t been easy for Mama or Baba to discover their eldest daughter had MS. It wasn’t easy for any of them, but it certainly helped put life in perspective.

  Natalie jumped out of the shower and towel dried her hair. Things weren’t perfect, but they were better. Much better.

  She ran downstairs to find Baba pacing, wearing his fancy red and black striped tie. The special living room was adorned with flowers. The glass chandeliers bathed the room in welcoming light. Mama was in the kitchen checking the oven, pink oven mitts on, brow creased over the soufflés. She’d been stressing since she broke with tradition and decided to make a French dessert for the guests.

  ‘Yum. That smells great.’ Natalie breathed in the chocolate aroma.

  ‘Yes, but what if it doesn’t rise? I’ll be disgraced.’ Mama’s face was dotted with perspiration.

  ‘Habibi, you worry too much. They’ll be perfect,’ Baba said, taking Mama’s face and covering her cheek with kisses.

  ‘Selim, please stop.’ Mama gently pushed him away. ‘You know nothing about cooking. Soufflés are delicate and need to be soothed and loved like babies. That’s what Mademoiselle Celine says.’

  ‘Sounds like your cooking teacher is the one that needs to be soothed and loved.’ Baba laughed.

  ‘That’s not very funny, Baba.’ Misha strutted into the kitchen with a handful of different nail polish jars and sat at the table ready to paint her nails. ‘Natalie, red, pink, silver or black?’ She held each up for inspection.

  ‘Pink,’ Natalie replied.

  ‘Black?’ Mama cut in. ‘Are we going to a funeral?’

  ‘It’s fashionable, Mama.’ Misha turned to Natalie. ‘What are you smiling at?’

  With a jolt, Natalie realised she was smiling. She was smiling because she loved that Misha could get all worked up over which colour to paint her fingernails. She loved it that Baba still made really bad dad jokes, and Mama’s day could go good or bad depending on how well her cake or soufflés turned out. But mostly, she loved it that they were all still together, still a family. After everything, they’d held on.

  Natalie shrugged her shoulders. ‘At your silly face.’

  Misha scowled, then poked her tongue out. ‘God I’m hungry. Mama, that smells so good.’

  ‘Well I hope it tastes delicious too. Maybe one day I’ll open my own French-Arabic inspired coffee shop.’ She winked at Baba.

  Baba smiled back. ‘Why not. The way you cook, we’ll be rich.’

  The doorbell rang.

  Misha squealed.

  ***

  Natalie craned her neck, peering past the sea of red and blue uniform clad students pouring out the school gate. She clutched at her stomach, pushing it down to make the nausea go away.

  Where was he? Had he got her message? He hadn’t replied. This was hard enough without all the waiting. She fought the urge to run home. God. Imagine if she did. Katelyn would never let her hear the end of it. After all, it was Katelyn who convinced her to send Chris the message.

  She finally spotted him. He was with Alex, leaning against the edge of the school building, school bag slung casually over one shoulder, his bronze hair ruffled. Her heart quickened. Even from so far away, he had that effect on her.

  Alex spotted her first, nudged Chris, who then turned towards the gate. He caught her eye, but from so far away, she couldn’t tell if he was happy, or annoyed, or angry. Did he mean to walk straight past her and never look back? She wouldn’t blame him if he did. It had been three and a half months since her birthday dinner, and they’d barely spoken since. Outside of the letter he’d sent, she had no idea how he felt. There were rumours about he and Steph hooking up at the formal after party, but Katelyn had seen it all, seen that Steph had practically thrown herself at him and how he’d pulled away. She took solace in that.

  Chris waved Alex goodbye, then walked over, the sunlight turning his bronze hair caramel. ‘Hey.’

  ‘Hi.’ She exhaled. He was at least prepared to hear her out.

  ‘I got your message.’

  ‘Yeah. Um … thanks for coming.’ Breathe, Natalie. Breathe. ‘Can we walk?’

  He nodded, following as she led the way.

  They walked slowly, both looking down at their feet or at the cars zooming past. Anywhere but at each other. Heart thrumming, Natalie searched furiously for the right words to begin. Should she make chit chat first or launch right in?

  ‘Did you know that otters sleep holding han
ds?’

  He smiled. ‘Cute. I like that one.’

  ‘Have you got a fascinating fact for me?’ she asked, stalling for time, hoping that her heart would settle enough to let her say what she needed to.

  He shook his head. ‘Nah. I kinda thought I wouldn’t need them anymore.’

  Natalie swallowed, her heart sinking to the pit of her stomach. Clearly, Chris was over her. ‘Oh. Fair enough.’

  ‘Your message said you wanted to tell me something?’

  She twisted her fingers together. ‘Yeah, I do. I’m just, um, really nervous.’

  Chris bent down to pick a long stick off the ground and swayed it to and fro. ‘No rush. Take your time.’

  Tears threatened her eyes. God, why couldn’t she hold it together? She could feel the heat in her face and hated to think how red and awful she looked.

  ‘So, how have you been?’ Chris finally said.

  ‘Oh, pretty good.’ No. No more half-truths, no more secrets. She’d tell him everything, even if he freaked out. Lay it all out there. ‘That’s not true. Actually, kind of crap.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We found out my sister has MS.’

  ‘Oh. I’m so sorry.’ He gently put a hand on her shoulder, but quickly dropped it again.

  ‘That’s not the worst of it.’ She wrapped the end of her school jumper around her hand. ‘My mother’s been really unhappy. You know, in her life. So she took some pills and…’ She looked down at her feet, swallowing over and over again. ‘I found her.’ She wanted to tell him about the gambling, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Her mother had been shamed and humiliated enough.

  Chris halted. ‘Jesus! That’s intense. Is she okay?’

  ‘Yes. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you someday. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.’ She looked straight into his eyes, wondering if she’d find repulsion there. All she saw was concern.