The first weekend after Eid-ul-Fitr, Lucy and I arranged to try doing the pond swim again. Well, to be more accurate, Lucy arranged it and virtually bullied me into agreeing. I could hardly say no after she had booked tickets in advance and when it was my list and my life-changing journey she was trying to help me with.
‘You sure you’re OK with doing this?’ I asked her, as we stood shivering in our full-length swimming gear by the edge of the pond, staring at the green water in apprehension. It was bigger than I expected, so Lucy and I decided to swim just one lap and had left our towels on the other side of the pond. Spring had arrived, but despite what the deceptive, cornflower-blue sky and daffodils suggested, it was still cold when it was windy. I was petrified of jumping into the ice-cold water that awaited below, more so than when I had had to eat lambs’ testicles and brains. This was going to be, by far, the hardest challenge yet.
‘Of course,’ Lucy replied. ‘I was going to do it before, wasn’t I?’
‘Yeah, but that was before you had a go at me for making you do stuff on the list with me,’ I replied.
‘Oh, yeah. Sorry about that.’
‘What was going on with you, Luce? There’s no way that was just hanger.’
‘Nah, it wasn’t.’
I waited for her to tell me more despite it being an inappropriate time and setting for such a deep conversation. Eventually, she sighed. ‘Some stuff has been going on with a guy I’m seeing on and off,’ she replied. ‘I don’t really want to go into it, but I’m sorry for taking it out on you.’
‘It’s OK,’ I replied, reaching over and giving her arm a squeeze. ‘I’m sorry for making you do this stuff with me. It’s not your list or your commitment; it was wrong of me to drag you along on this journey.’
‘Hey,’ Lucy interrupted. ‘No one can make me do anything, OK? I’ve been doing this with you because I want to support you. If there’s something I really don’t want to do, I’ll tell you.’
‘Promise?’
‘Promise. Now shall we do this or not?’
‘Count of three?’
Turning to face the water, we counted down, still holding hands. On ‘three’, I took a deep breath, squeezed my eyes shut and jumped in.
The feeling was like nothing I had experienced before. The cold didn’t engulf me – it beat the crap out of me. It was like being electrocuted. Every inch of my skin was shocked senseless.
Gasping as I came up for air, I found Lucy, who looked equally as stunned as I did. A moment later, adrenaline kicked in and once we became acclimatised to the water, I felt more alive than I had done in a long time.
‘Shall we d-do the l-lap?’ Lucy managed to say, her mouth frozen. I nodded, because talking would be too difficult and swam after her, my limbs slicing through the water like a knife through butter. Lucy was clearly a more competent swimmer than me in terms of form, but while my style was basic and I looked like a dog paddling in a pond, I was quite strong and had a lot of stamina, thanks to all the running I had been doing for the past seven months. Halfway through the never-ending swim, I almost began to feel warm, as every part of my body united with the rest, working in unison to move through the water.
We swam silently and I focused my mind on the task rather than letting it cloud up with worrying thoughts like it usually did. Would I ever see Noah again? Did Zakariya hate me? Why was he ignoring me? Was he really going to move to Dubai? Why hadn’t I received a university offer yet? What if I failed the course? What if I lost my job because I was too busy studying? I pushed it all aside and swam until there was nothing there but the water and me.
‘OK, I’m done,’ Lucy panted when we finally reached the other side, reminding me that it was the water, me AND her. I nodded, too exhausted to speak. I had somehow pushed my muscles through the burn and felt like I was going to collapse – and possibly drown.
Dragging myself out of the pond, I welcomed the towels that were waiting for us and dried off as fast as I could, my entire body shaking uncontrollably from the cold, as I part shuffled, part ran towards the changing rooms before I turned into an ice cube. I don’t know how I peeled my wetsuit off with my numb fingers. It felt like it took forever, but I finally managed to shower and change into the woolly onesie I had brought to wear. The cold shower was nothing compared to swimming in the pond.
When I got back to Lucy, she was sitting on a bench drinking tea from a Thermos and eating banana cake. I joined her and took out my own flask, taking a long swig before gratefully accepting a piece of cake. We sat there in silence, the hot tea warming us up from the inside and gently defrosting us. The tip of Lucy’s nose was bright red and her usually shiny, blonde locks were a frizzy mess, sticking out of her head like a lion’s mane. Mine was no doubt worse, but I didn’t care. I had just swum outdoors for the first time like a complete BOSS. If I could do that and eat questionable parts of an animal without throwing up, I could do anything.
Lucy grinned at me as though reading my thoughts and I smiled back. We didn’t need to talk; we both knew exactly how the other was feeling. And it was pretty bloody amazing.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Despite the invigorating weekend I’d had, when Monday came along, I awoke with a sense of dread – a feeling that was becoming all too familiar. Prior to Sheila joining the firm as partner, I didn’t love my job, but I didn’t hate it either. But now, every morning I would awake to knots of anxiety in the pit of my stomach, wondering if I should call in sick.
With a yawn, I checked the notifications on my phone, the breath dying on my lips the instant I saw that I had an email from one of the universities I had applied to. Bracing myself for rejection – because anything other than soul-crushing disappointment was too alien to comprehend – I opened it, my eyes scanning the text for ‘rejection’.
It wasn’t a rejection.
It was an acceptance.
I stared at the words on the screen, my eyes filling with tears. I was going back to university to do my LLM, it was being paid for in full and my life was finally going somewhere beyond thirty items on a list made by a man I didn’t know.
Energised, I pushed the covers off my body, got out of the warmth of my bed and rushed to the shower. If I hurried, I would still make it in time.
I was struck by an overwhelming sense of déjà vu when I half-walked, half-ran to the Tube station and threw myself onto the Piccadilly Line train that was already at the platform, just as the warning beeps began to ring, indicating the imminent closing of the doors. You don’t want to be partially inside the carriage when those doors close, trust me. I’ve been there and it’s pretty painful, not to mention embarrassing.
As I rummaged around in my makeup bag, I thought back to the morning I met Noah and how my life had changed for the better since. I knew it wasn’t because of him per se, it was because of the list and my own perseverance and determination, but he did deserve a little credit. If I hadn’t met him that day, I would still be the same Maya I was more than seven months ago; a shadow, going through the motions of life without actually living.
Carefully brushing on some powder and blusher, I looked around the carriage, half expecting to see him. I didn’t, of course. As always, the train was packed with commuters who wanted nothing more than to avoid eye contact with me and everyone else. I wished God would throw Noah in my path again, instead of constantly planting Zakariya on it. I knew that I didn’t really know Noah, but I felt like I did. We had connected instantly during our short conversation and I felt as though I had got to know him more because of the list. I knew that he was driven and ambitious, adventurous and open-minded. I knew that he had goals and dreams and he was determined to achieve them. I knew that he appreciated literature, films, art and history. He was the full package as far as I could tell: good looks, great charisma, intelligence. What wasn’t there to like about him?
Then there was Zakariya, who had all but told me he wasn’t interested in me and had only met me to keep his parents quiet. Zakariya, who judged me the moment we met and made me – a girl he didn’t know – feel guilty for being at an art class I had accidentally attended. Zakariya, who showed up at my house and made me more uncomfortable. And then proceeded to help me out: driving me home, recommending the Arabic class, buying me dinner, taking me to Snowdon. Ignoring me for weeks after. Preferring DC to Marvel.
The sad reality was that neither man was into me, I realised as I sat on the train. If Noah had been, he would have asked for my number before he ran off the train that day. If Zakariya was, he had plenty of opportunity to give me an inkling. The fact was, I was wasting my time, energy and brain space thinking about them. Right now, I could have been listening to a podcast or reading a book, or working harder at evening out my eyebrows. I could have been engaging in a riveting conversation with the man across the carriage with the unkempt beard, vacant look in his eyes and a vague scent of beer wafting from his direction. OK, maybe not. But my point was, I was wasting my time. It needed to stop. Neither deserved my attention and thoughts, especially not Zakariya. I needed to focus on myself, my career, my education and my list.
Emerging at Hammersmith, I took out my phone to tap through the gates and for the second time that day, I received news that both winded me and filled me with joy at the same time. It was from Mohammed: Dina was finally in labour, two weeks after her due date!
Without wasting another moment, I sent HR an email, turned back around and headed to the hospital, texting Mohammed that I was on my way.
‘Maya, salaam’alaykom!’ Dina’s mum, Aunty Noura, greeted me when I finally made it to North Middlesex over an hour later.
‘Salaam, Aunty,’ I replied, giving her a brief hug, relieved that she had arrived in time for the birth of her second grandchild, but also worried. Her and Dina’s relationship had always been strained and I hoped and prayed that her presence proved to be helpful, not stressful.