After lunch, we both went back to our desks and I began the mundane work of combing through some new contracts for any errors or irregularities. Halfway through my stack of papers, I checked my phone to see a new email from the organisation that I had applied to for sponsorship for my master’s. My heart stopped and my hands instantly turned clammy. The subject didn’t reveal whether I had got it or not, with its vague ‘Application Outcome’.
I looked around the office to see if Sheila was around before I opened the email, my chest tight with anxiety, straining against my ribcage and pushing against my throat.
‘OH MY GOD! I GOT IT!’ I shrieked, jumping up from my seat in a fashion that was very unlike my usual calm and quiet demeanour.
‘Got what?’ Arjun and Lucy asked in unison.
‘I got the scholarship! They’re going to pay for my LLM!’ Tears filled my eyes as Lucy rushed over and threw her arms around me. Arjun joined us and soon the three of us were jumping around the office like loonies, still holding on to each other.
‘What’s all this?’ Sheila’s steely voice cut through our laughter; we stopped jumping and instantly fell silent. Lucy and Arjun slunk back to their desks while Sheila glowered at me. She was smiling, but she wasn’t. Her big white teeth were showing, but her eyes were annoyed. Oh, Sheila, what big teeth you have! All the better to eat you with, my dear.
‘Sorry for the noise,’ I gulped, edging towards my seat before I suffered the same fate as Red Riding Hood. ‘I had some good news, that’s all.’
‘Oh? What’s that then? Are you getting married?’
What? My eyes darted over to Lucy and Arjun, their expressions of confusion no doubt mimicking my own.
‘Er, n-no,’ I stammered. ‘I applied for a scholarship and found out that I got it,’ I said as I backed away and slowly sat down in my seat.
‘A scholarship? For what?’
‘I want to do an LLM,’ I replied, my throat dry.
‘Oh? You know you don’t need a master’s to be a paralegal, Maya,’ she said icily, before abruptly turning around and slithering back to her office.
Exhaling deeply, I ignored the looks of horror mixed with pity on my colleagues’ faces, Sheila’s words already replaying over and over in my mind. There were no congratulations, only the not-so-subtle reminder to stay in my lane and the assumption that as a brown woman the only possible accomplishment I would want to celebrate was getting married.
The worst part was, Sheila was brown herself. What did that mean? How could she be racist towards me when we shared the same colour? Surely not. But then there were a subset of MPs, evil brown MPs, I call them, who capitalised on their brownness to make decisions that then destroyed brown people. Sheila was definitely giving me evil MP vibes.
The hope and joy I had felt moments earlier had dampened to a vague sense of relief. For the rest of the afternoon, I kept quiet and silent, just the way I used to be.
‘Guess what,’ I announced when I got home that evening. My mood had improved considerably by the journey home, partly because I got a seat all the way to Turnpike Lane for a change, but mostly because I had decided to text Zakariya with my scholarship news. His reply came instantly and I spent the rest of the afternoon texting him discreetly instead of working. It was my passive-aggressive way of giving Sheila the finger.
‘What’s up, Dimple?’ Malik drawled, sauntering down the stairs.
‘Oh, wow, fancy finding you home before midnight for a change,’ I replied sarcastically, taking off my scarf and coat and draping them across the banister. ‘Trouble in paradise?’
‘Everything’s fine, thank you for asking,’ he scowled at me, shooting a glance at the open living room door where the sounds of Bangla TV could be heard.
‘Guess what, Baba!’ I entered the living room where my dad was watching the news in Bangladesh.
‘Kita oiseh?’ Baba replied distractedly, his gaze fixed on the screen.
‘I got the scholarship to do my master’s! Law school, here I come.’
‘Congratulations, Affa, I knew you’d get it!’ Malik exclaimed, thumping me on the back. ‘Well done!’
‘Good news,’ Baba’s reply was lacklustre. He wasn’t the most enthusiastic of people. As someone who grew up sharing a room with five brothers and used to study by candlelight on the hallway floor because it was the only space available, he isn’t often impressed with success that hasn’t come with odds-defying hard graft. ‘How much will that save you?’
‘Over twenty grand,’ I told him with a flourish. He perked up at that.
‘Fantastic! Fantastic news!’ he said, showing delayed enthusiasm. ‘Fantastic, what a relief.’
Rolling my eyes, I went to find Ma, hoping for a better response.
‘Oh my goodness, Maya! Congratulations!’ she exclaimed, tears instantly filling her eyes. ‘Give me a hug. Well done!’ Now that was a response. ‘I wish you had told me earlier; I would have made something more special for dinner.’
‘What did you make? Tonight’s my last night on the Whole 30, I was going to have grilled chicken and salad for dinner.’
‘Well, come home straight after work tomorrow and I’ll make you something special. Is there anything you fancy?’
‘Anything with carbs, dairy and sugar, please. Preferably all three at the same time.’
‘Deal, my darling. I’m so proud of you!’
Now all I had to do was get offered a university place and my plan to become a solicitor in approximately five years would be underway.
Later that night, once I’d had my final Whole 30 meal and gone to bed excited at the prospect of having paratha the next day for breakfast, a text from Zakariya came through. I smiled when his name popped up on my home screen, my stomach instantly fluttering with anticipation.
Although we had been messaging each other all afternoon, this felt different. It was dark and I was snuggled up under my duvet in my fluffy onesie with matching socks. Hardly the most romantic of outfits, but it wasn’t like our conversations constituted romance. They were friendly, sure, but no one would be able to misconstrue our communication as anything but platonic.
But still. It was dark. I was in bed, about to fall asleep. It was just the two of us; no Lucy looking worriedly over at me after my run-in with Sheila, no Arjun huffing and puffing across from me. No threat of Sheila suddenly bursting into the room – and bursting my bubble with it: