by Rashad Salim
Anil was the last person in Binford I wanted to see again and I was sure the feeling was mutual. He glared at me and puffed out his chest. He had his fists balled too. It was like being confronted by Bilal and his cronies all over again.
“Anil,” Asghar said, greeting Anil’s reflection while making the finishing touches with the blade. “Rishi,” he said to the dark skinned man watching me carefully. “Vinod,” he said to the younger man.
All three men stood in silence behind me. It was clear none of them were interested in getting their hair cut. I could feel my heart beating faster and faster.
“How’s it going, Anil?” I said as neutral as possible.
“Anil helps his dad run the business these days,” Asghar said. “Isn’t that right?”
Anil didn’t reply.
“I heard.”
“You did?” Anil said, still flexing his muscles.
I wondered how long he was going to keep his chest inflated. Eventually he’d get tired and have to let all that air out and lose some of that size he was desperate to show.
“And where did you hear that from?” He took a step closer to me. “It wasn’t from Seema, was it?”
I decided to keep my mouth shut about his wife, not wanting him to know I had just been talking to her before he showed up. I wondered if it really was a coincidence that he showed up right after his wife had her arms around me.
How did he know I was here? Had she told him? Or had he seen for himself and decided to come back with some back up in case I roughed him up like I used to back in school?
Asghar was about to say something to Anil but I interrupted him. “Actually, I was talking to Sajid the other day and he mentioned it.” I smiled at Anil’s reflection.
He leaned back when I mentioned Sajid. He even lost his composure enough to exhale and let his chest shrink. “You remember Sajid, don’t you?”
He puffed his chest out again. “You know I’m married to Seema?”
“Yeah, I’m happy for you both. She’s a great girl-.”
“Yeah, she is. And she’s my wife now... so stay the fuck away from her.”
I looked at him and his two heavies. They looked like mean motherfuckers. I didn’t want to mess with them. I didn’t want to mess with Anil either but I wasn’t afraid of him the way I was of what his cronies might do to me.
“I got it. I’ve got nothing to do with her anyway so relax.”
He looked at me with suspicion for a few seconds and then turned towards the shop door. His two friends joined him one by one after giving me a final dirty look as a warning.
Asghar brushed away the chunks of hair on the blanket wrapped around my neck. He waited for the three men to leave his shop before he removed the blanket.
When I handed him the money for the haircut I saw he was looking at me with disappointment.
“What?”
“I saw you outside before you came in.”
“And?”
“I saw you hugging his wife.”
“I wasn’t hugging her. She was hugging me.”
He sighed. “Same thing.”
I could tell he thought there was something going on between me and Seema but I didn’t want to deny it too hard. It would only get me into deeper shit with Anil if that notion got around.
Asghar was looking outside. I followed his gaze.
Outside the shop on the street was Anil’s giant off road jeep. His two friends were with him while he sat in the driver’s seat and glared at me.
“Don’t test him,” Asghar said. “It would be a painful mistake.”
11
When I left Asghar’s barber shop I still had hair stuck on me and it did dawn on me that I should’ve got my haircut closer to my flat but I rationalised to myself that the need for a shampoo wash gave me a reason to cut the visit short if it got awkward.
When I arrived at my parents’ home and my mum led me into the living room she didn’t waste any time before questioning me.
“Terrible business what happened to your store,” she said. “And on the night before it was meant to open too.”
“Yes,” I said and left it at that. I wasn’t going to let her know I was meant to be working there when the arson occurred. If she found out about that there was no telling how much distress it would cause her.
“And I told your dad too but told him not to worry either.”
I nodded. My dad was on holiday in Pakistan for the last few weeks and would not be due back for another month.
“Such a sad thing to happen. I heard someone died in the fire.”
“Yeah, one of the other trainee managers.”
I didn’t mention Mark’s name or that he had been a close friend of mine because I didn’t want her knowing how personally I was taking the tragedy.
“Do the police know who did it?”
“I don’t know.”
“I heard those Defenders of Islam boys were causing trouble outside the store the other day.”
“Yeah, I was there.”
“I heard you argued with them. You shouldn’t have done that.”
I didn’t bother asking her how she knew this. Gossip was the favourite pass time in this town.
“...I know.” I felt more shameful about having caused a scene now that I was facing my mother. Predictably, the conversation was becoming uncomfortable like every other one I’d had since I returned to Binford.
“You were always angry with them,” she said. “I still remember that time you and Sajid got into a fight with them. Do you remember that?”
I had never forgotten.
“Sajid was always trouble,” she said. “I always told you that, didn’t I?”
I nodded and waited for her to finish telling me off.
“I said ‘this boy is a troublemaker and don’t hang around him’ and look what he did. He started a fight with them and broke one of their noses.”
I didn’t correct her about any of that.
“It’s very sad what happened with your store,” she said. “But maybe it was for the best.”
That stunned me. She was trying to be sympathetic but I was gobsmacked she would say something like that.
“How?” I asked.
“Well, businesses here were worried about the store opening. Now that the Bestco store is closed maybe things can stay how they have always been.”
“But what about the customers? The people that live around here? Bestco could’ve given them cheaper prices and with this recession it’s not just the businesses that are affected, is it? This town’s people needed to save on bills too. Bestco could’ve helped them.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t be so stupid,” she said before looking away.
“What do you mean?”
“You know our people don’t buy our food from the supermarkets,” she said. “We only buy the western stuff from there. We buy all our cooking stuff from our own shops and if our shops go bankrupt because no one is buying their English products - because now there is a Bestco to get it from - then where are Asians going to buy Asian food from?”
I didn’t say anything.
“You want all us mothers driving to other towns to get supplies for our families?”
I still didn’t say anything.
“And you think we are blind we can’t see how these big supermarkets are now selling their own brands of Asian food? Haven’t you noticed how many shops have gone bankrupt recently?”
I didn’t want to argue with her so I stood up to let her know I was leaving. When I did it changed her tone.
“What happens now?” she asked. “About your job. Are they going to transfer you?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Hopefully. Possibly back to West London.”
“I see,” she said but she was not pleased.
“I’m going now,” I said and moved towards the door. “I have to wash my hair.”
“You shouldn’t stir any trouble around here again,” she said behind me. “First time y
ou go into town after all these years and it’s only to pick fights.”
When I was outside in the street I headed towards the station feeling lower than ever.
12
I decided to abandon my usual route to the train station via the backstreets by heading towards a nearby street where a bus stop was located and intended to take a bus to the station.
I just wanted to be back in West London and maybe forget all about Binford.
I was sitting at the bus stop waiting for the bus and staring at the ground until it arrived when I heard someone call my name. I looked up and saw Chantelle.
“Why so serious?”
She had her arms crossed. She wore a skirt and the same leather jacket she had been wearing the last time I had seen her and she had never looked more beautiful.
“Hey,” I said and thought about the slap she had given me the previous time she saw me.
I wasn’t in the mood to take another verbal beating from another person I had wronged in the past. But the truth was the second I had looked up and seen her I was glad she was there.
“How’s your face?” she asked.
“How’s your hand?”
She smiled. “I should’ve used my fist.”
“You’d have to get in line.” I smiled at her but didn’t get up from my seat. I didn’t want to look desperate.
“Where are you off to then?” she asked like it was only yesterday that we were at school together.
“I was on my way home,” I said.
“Live far?”
“West London.” I always gave that answer to Binford people whenever they asked. I never said Shepherd’s Bush. It wasn’t just to give a vague reply - having come from Binford, West London was like a badge of honour in my mind.
“No wonder I haven’t seen you in so long.”
She was in good spirits. No signs of any bad feelings talking to me whereas I felt like complete shit talking to her after all these years.
“Listen, Chantelle,” I said, not knowing what I was going to say next.
She stepped closer until she was two feet away. I could smell her perfume and she smelled nice. As always.
I stood up. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said, I thought a little too quickly. “It’s all in the past.”
I looked down at the ground to avoid her gaze. “I’m sorry about everything. I never meant to hurt you. I just thought it was for the best.”
She nodded. “It’s okay,” she said again, quieter this time.
She was so beautiful and I was such a fool.
“There is so much I want to say to you,” I said, feeling myself choking up. “I mean, there is so much I want you to know.” I didn’t know where I was going with that. “...But I just had a haircut and have to wash off all this hair stuck to my head.”
She burst out laughing which I hadn’t expected. I stood there feeling ashamed of myself while she laughed. Watching her I couldn’t help but smile.
I saw the bus behind her approaching the bus stop and was sure I would get on it.
“You’re such a doofus,” she said and smiled back at me.
“Yeah.” I knew I was blushing at this point. “I know.”
“You always knew how to make me laugh,” she said, staring into my eyes.
“You always thought I was funnier than I actually was.”
“You were funny,” she said. “And other things.” There was that look again. The way she used to look at me when we were younger.
“We had some good times, didn’t we?”
She looked away. “Yeah, we did.”
“You made me miss my bus,” I said, watching it drive away.
“You can come around to mine.”
I looked at her.
“You can wash it off there,” she said. “What do you say?”
I admit I was desperate to talk to her and spend time with her again but felt there was too much in my longing and would only leave me disappointed.
I looked around for any buses approaching and saw none.
“What shampoo do you use?”
She smiled. “Why don’t you come around and find out?”
13
I fell in love with Chantelle the first time I saw her. We were in the final year of school. It was on a Friday right before assembly. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
I had never noticed her before and later learnt she had only been at my school for a few weeks by then.
After assembly I spotted her in the hall outside and approached her.
“Hello,” I said and smiled at her.
I’ll never know what she was going to say or if she was going to say anything at all right then because she didn’t get a chance. One of her friends pulled her away and the group of girls walked off busy with their own conversations. I watched them walk away.
Over the next few weeks I found out more about her from a few girls at school. We still hadn’t had a real conversation until it was almost the end of the Autumn term.
Then one lunchtime I was with some friends at their form classroom and Chantelle was there. Up until that point I hadn’t got much of an impression of what she was like but from what I had gathered from my sources I knew she was shy and friendly and popular and all of that just made me want to know her better.
I got up from my end of the classroom and walked over to her. I asked her how she was and that got her talking. I could feel something inside me like joy at just talking to this girl.
She was so damn pretty and the way she covered her mouth with her hand whenever she laughed was so cute I just wanted to wrap my arms around her and give her a good squeeze.
We must’ve talked for about 10 minutes and I had asked her about everything – where she was from, what her favourite colour was, what subjects she liked and disliked, what she wanted to be when she grew up – and she was very talkative once I got her started. I teased her about watching cartoons even though I still watched them myself and every now and then she mockingly slapped my hand or gently punched me in the arm for poking fun at her.
It felt great finally talking to her and just as I was about to ask her for her number one of her friends called her away. It was almost end of lunchtime and the last thing I needed was to come off needy so I returned to my own classroom, which was filling up with my classmates.
I found Sajid and sat beside him. He asked me where I had been. I only told him the place without mentioning Chantelle.
“You went to perve on that girl, didn’t you?”
“What girl?”
“What girl?” he said imitating me in a retarded voice. “You know who I’m talking about, you dumb paki.”
I looked at him. “So what?”
“Nothing,” he said and looked away. “Was Jermaine there? Elroy? All them niggers?”
“I saw them coming in while I was leaving.”
Jermaine and I could’ve been friends at one point. When we started secondary school at the age of 11, we used to see each other all the time and we played football together back then but over the years since that time we experienced the same thing that happened to all the boys in my school: we drifted away from those of other races in a consensual segregation until we barely hung out with anyone who wasn’t the same skin colour as us. It was the same thing everywhere at school.
If you walked into any Yr 11 class, you saw boys on one side and girls on the other and the boys’ side were divided into small groups by colour. There had been hostility between black and brown at my school for as long as I could remember. If you had managed to avoid it for the first few years you were fortunate because it was almost guaranteed to happen in your GCSE days. There was no reversing this process.
“You know she’s Jermaine’s girl?” he asked.
The question jabbed at my heart.
“...Do you?”
“What makes you say that? I never got that impression.”
“Ask around,” he said. “I’m sure I seen him hoggi
ng her all to himself.”
“Whatever.”
“Them boys catch you pulling those Romeo moves on Juliet and they’re gonna beat the shit out of you,” he said and leaned closer to me. “And then I might have to do something about that.”
“Don’t worry. I can handle them.”
“Forget her,” he said. “You’d have to be bonkers to hook up with her. Even if them niggers didn’t fuck you up for it, everyone else will make your life hell over it.”
He was right about that. But I didn’t care. I was so obsessed with the girl that it didn’t matter to me. I often thought about her when I wasn’t at school. I thought about us together and what it might be like and I was fully aware these were delusions. But like I said, I didn’t care.
I was in love with her and I wanted her like I hadn’t wanted anyone in a long time.
“Also, don’t forget about you know who,” he said and tilted his head indicating behind us. “She was asking me about you while you were on that mission.”
I looked behind us and saw Seema at the other end of the class.
“Fuck knows why you haven’t tapped that yet,” he said.
I remember wondering how Sajid would’ve reacted if he knew I had already done plenty of fooling around with Seema.
I remember watching Seema sitting there in a short skirt with her legs crossed and regretting having pursued her. I knew she had been in love with me for a long time before we started meeting up in secret and got frisky whenever we could during the previous school year.
It wasn’t until she had discovered make-up and grew breasts that I finally gave in to temptation and asked her out. I was never serious about her the way she had been with me and I quickly got tired of her constant dramatic antics and complaints. I broke up with her before the start of the summer holidays earlier that year and she had taken it as bad as most girls would’ve taken their first break up.
I on the other hand had been relieved.
The problem was she was still more in love with me than ever. She often wrote long love letters to me and e-mailed them to me on days where we hardly saw each other at school. She told me how much she missed having me and I’d tell her it wasn’t the end of the world and how it was for the best.
