‘You’re not a burden, Affa,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m sorry for saying that. And your skin isn’t moila, it’s beautiful, OK? And I’m sorry for hiding the Lucy thing from you . . . it was all messy and confusing and I thought that adding you to the mix would make it all worse.’
‘What’s happening between you two, anyway? Ma asked me and I told her to speak to you.’
‘I had a chat with Ma,’ Malik admitted. ‘I told her the truth. That I’m not ready to settle down and as much as I like Lucy, I don’t want to get married right now.’
‘Wow. So what now? You guys are over?’
‘We are. But it was actually her who ended it with me.’
‘I’m sorry too,’ I whispered, my head still in my hands. ‘For always expecting you to drive me around at ridiculous hours and for being a moody cow most of the time. But Malik, I need you to have my back more. Not everything needs to be an opportunity to get at me. Sometimes I need my brother’s support, you know? And I’ll be the same to you.’
Malik looked away as he admitted this, and although I felt a little sorry for him, I was proud of my friend who knew her own worth. I didn't say this, though. There was no need to run chilli powder in the wound.
Malik didn’t say anything after that and neither did I. I suppose we had said everything we needed to and for the first time, we understood each other.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I was emotionally drained after Malik and I had it out. My eyes were swollen, my mouth felt and tasted like sandpaper and I had zero desire to meet Noah. When I took my phone out to cancel, I saw that we were supposed to meet in less than an hour. How could I flake on him so close to our date?
I had forty minutes at most to make myself presentable, so after applying cucumber slices on my eyes for a few minutes to help reduce the puffiness, I washed my face and threw on an oversized shirt and jeans because they didn’t need ironing. I tried my best to hide my dark circles with concealer and used blusher to give my sallow complexion some life, but it made little difference. I didn’t have the energy or time for anything more elaborate, so sticking on sunglasses, I slunk out of the house and made my way to Noah.
Unsurprisingly, I was late getting to Southgate, given how little time I had between bawling on the sofa to leaving the house. If Noah was annoyed, he didn’t show it.
‘Hey, Maya! How are you?’ he smiled, leaning in and giving me a long, tight hug. Still not used to the physical contact, I felt a pang of discomfort but I didn’t pull away. I felt too embarrassed and I wondered how many women out there went along with men’s wishes to avoid having an uncomfortable conversation.
What I did notice from the hug was that this time, I didn’t feel as though my knees were going to give way. Yes, he still smelt nice; yes, it felt good to have his strong arms around me; yes, his broad back was pleasant to touch. But I wasn’t electrocuted like last time. Was I too tired for chemistry or had the Noah-effect worn off?
‘I’m OK,’ I said simply. ‘Sorry I’m late.’
‘Five minutes doesn’t count as late, not really,’ he said kindly. ‘There’s a cool little cafe down the road. Do you want to sit inside or get a takeaway and go for a walk?’
I pondered the question for a moment. Inside meant taking off my sunglasses and letting him see my red, puffy eyes. But I had no energy to walk around aimlessly.
‘Can we sit down inside?’ I croaked. ‘Maybe we can walk around after?’
‘Sure.’ Noah began energetically striding away in the direction of the cafe and I sighed, trailing behind. Hanging out with a personal trainer was tiring. They always wanted to be active. And all those endorphins from the exercise seemed to keep him in a constant state of cheeriness.
‘How’s your week been?’ I asked once I had sat down with a hot mug of chamomile tea and a gigantic wedge of carrot cake, still wearing my sunglasses. Noah had ordered a black coffee and the world’s smallest cannoli. He insisted on paying for it all despite my feeble protests.
‘Really good!’ he enthused. ‘Wow, that cake is huge. How will you manage all that?’
I narrowed my eyes, not that he could see them through the dark lenses. ‘Um, I haven’t eaten all day and I had a crap week, so I think I’ll manage.’
Noah didn’t ask me why my week was crap, nor did he pick up on his faux pas. Instead, he continued talking about his own week, his clients, how he was house hunting. I was house hunting too, but I didn’t get a chance to tell him because the pauses between his sentences were too short.
As I listened to him go on and on, I wondered if he had been like this the last time we met. I didn’t think so. I was certain that he wasn’t as obtuse the first time we went out either, nor the time on the Tube. Maybe he wasn’t the issue, maybe it was me; I wasn’t in the best headspace after my horrendous week and I was always irritable and moody a week before my period was due. I was being rubbish company and really should have cancelled the meeting. He was having to work extra hard to keep the conversation going.
‘Hey, why are you still wearing sunglasses?’ Noah asked suddenly, mid-way through recounting a story about one of his clients – a really big, built man who kept farting every time he squatted. It was a funny story, but it was putting me off my cake.
‘Oh, I’ve got a really bad eye infection,’ I lied smoothly. ‘And I’ve got a fever too. I don’t feel well.’
‘Oh, God, why did you come out then? We need to get you home!’
‘I didn’t want to flake on you.’ This, at least, was true.
‘Let me call you an Uber,’ Noah said.
‘No, no, I can do it myself,’ I replied, taking my phone out and regretting the lie that was now costing me twenty pounds.
‘No way, I insist,’ Noah protested, opening up his phone and I instantly felt bad for the mean thoughts I was having about him. He was a genuinely nice guy. And so what if he was always happy and excited? It was better than always being cold and unreadable like Zakariya. Noah at least made it clear that he liked me. He didn’t wait weeks and weeks before initiating contact with me and then leave me with a silence to decipher.
The Uber came quickly and I was almost sorry to say goodbye to Noah so hastily. Almost, because I was also relieved. I needed a break from it all; not just his chatter, but from my family, work – basically from my life.
I remembered then that I had yet to book my solo trip, as per Noah’s list. The activity couldn’t have come at a better time. By the time I had reached home, my solo long weekend to Istanbul was all booked and paid for and I smiled for the first time that day. Now I just had to persuade Sheila to give me time off.
A couple of weeks later, I was on a plane completely alone for the first time in my life, in a bid to cross number twenty-seven off my list. Not that Ma and Baba knew I was on my own. They were so unimpressed when I told them that I wanted to go away again (twice in one year was incomprehensible to them) that I couldn’t work up the courage to tell them I wanted to go alone as well. In the end, I lied and told them that I was going with Dina and the kids. They loved and trusted her too much to say no to me after that.
I also lied to Sheila, claiming a ‘family emergency’ was the reason why I needed to take two days off, creating an elaborate story about a fictional family member falling seriously ill. I asked Allah to forgive me for my lies and pleaded with him not to make the sick family member thing come true.
Both Zakariya and Noah had texted me consistently throughout that time, although the content of their messages couldn’t have been any more different. Zak would send me funny phrases he’d learnt in Arabic, links to interesting political articles or ask me my advice on things like where to live when he moved to Dubai, sharing listings of fancy apartments near the sea, with pools and gyms, that cost the same to rent as a crappy basement flat in Hackney. And not the bougie part.
Noah, on the other hand, sent me motivational quotes, gym TikToks of himself – which admittedly made me a little hot around the collar (I am a red-blooded female after all) – and the occasional ‘thinking of you’ type message, with a little ‘x’ at the end.
Noah’s texts were endearing, playful and he was clearly interested in me and trying to get a rise out of me. Zak’s were intellectual, Islamic and a tad abrupt at times. I knew that I was an idiot for enjoying the fact that I was hearing from him more than usual, as platonic as it was. Though each time I received a message, I felt a pang of regret at the timing of us.
‘Can’t you forget about uni and follow him to Dubai?’ Dina had said when I told her how I was feeling. It was the night before I flew out to Istanbul and we were talking while I was packing my suitcase. Sami and the baby were downstairs with Ma.
