‘Hang on, is that my . . . notebook?’ He took the book from me and opened it to the first page. ‘I was wondering what I did with this! I’m so glad to have it back. But wait . . . I didn’t write this.’
He looked at number one on the list. Enrol in a physio course. Under his notes was my own neat lettering in bright-pink Sharpie. ‘“Now is the time to get your ass back to uni and finally do that master’s, girl”,’ he read slowly, his voice completely befuddled. ‘“But get a scholarship because you shouldn’t be getting into debt at your age.” What is this? Did you write this?’
‘Yeah,’ I broke eye contact then. ‘You see, when I first found your notebook, I didn’t want to open it and breach your privacy, but then I thought that it might help me find you again.’
‘OK . . .’
‘But when I saw that it was a list of things you wanted to accomplish before you turned thirty, it sort of inspired me.’
‘To do what? Make your own list?’
‘Uh, not exactly. I decided to do the stuff on your list.’
Now he looked surprised. ‘What? You enrolled on a physio course?’ he asked, incredulous.
‘No, I changed the ones that were completely irrelevant into something that made sense to my life. But the rest I did.’
Noah turned the page to number two and I felt my ears burn as he read out loud, ‘“Read Ulysses. What a load of effin’ BS. Can’t believe I wasted so much of my life on this overrated piece of shit. That bloody Noah is a pretentious git. Probably wants to use the fact that he’s read this tome as a chat-up line.”’
‘Ouch, that’s harsh,’ he said, his voice strained. ‘I thought you said you liked it? I could have sworn you did . . . it was one of the things that got my attention when we met. I mean, when we met the second time.’
Noah looked confused as he continued to flick through the book, this time sparing me from having to hear my snarky thoughts out loud.
‘So basically,’ he began, his voice now cooler than I had ever heard it before, ‘all the stuff I thought you were into, you only did because it was on my list?’
‘Basically.’
‘You’re not really into sports and hiking and adventures and tattoos? I don’t understand. Who are you?’
‘I’m still me,’ I said, trying to keep the wobble out of my voice. ‘But before your list, I was more of an introvert. I spent my weekends at home watching TV or meeting my friend for dinner. Your list made me get out and experience life. And my tattoo was only temporary, by the way.’ I held up my hand to show him and he blanched.
‘This is a lot to process, Maya,’ he said after a long pause. ‘I feel like I don’t know you.’
Noah turned the engine on and I said nothing to defend myself.
The rest of the trip continued in deadly silence with Noah staring stonily at the road ahead and me looking out the window, willing myself not to cry. What did I think was going to happen? This wasn’t a movie. He wasn’t going to hug me and tell me that he liked me anyway and it didn’t matter that I only did those things on the list because of him . . . Because at the end of the day, I did do them. It was my grit and determination that made me swim in the ice-cold pond. It was my hard work that won me a scholarship. It was my courage that allowed me to jump out of that plane. It was my perseverance that got me to the end of Ulysses. Yes, the list inspired me but it was my mind, my body – ME – that got me through it all.
We arrived in Turnpike Lane and as we pulled into my road, I turned to look at him one last time.
‘You know, you’re so hung up about feeling tricked, but what about me?’ I began softly, my voice barely louder than a whisper.
‘What do you mean?’ Noah didn’t look at me but continued staring straight ahead.
‘The day you spoke to me on the Tube was only to tick off number twenty-eight: “Date a girl who isn’t your type.” All this time I thought you liked me for me and that’s why you had approached me. I thought you liked who I was before the list. But clearly you didn’t. I was never your type. I was just a challenge for you, like reading a difficult novel or climbing a mountain.’
I opened the car door and went over to the boot myself to lug my big, twenty-three-kilogram suitcase out. Noah didn’t come out and help me. He stayed in the driver’s seat, the engine still purring, and as I dragged my case along the uneven, cracked pavement, I heard his car roar away. I didn’t look back.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
A couple of weeks went by and before long, we were in hot, humid August, which was made infinitely more bearable because Malik and I had air-conditioning installed downstairs. It was Malik’s idea but I persuaded him to let me go halves with him. He had made a fair point about me not contributing financially and I had heard him.
My parents moaned and groaned the entire week the builders were there, drilling through the bricks and fitting the pipes and vents. They thought it was an unnecessarily extravagant expense. Now that we had got our house back, they were loving it. We ended up spending less time isolated in our rooms and more time together sprawled out in the living room, enjoying the coolness. Even Nani had been coming over more often to escape the heat in her house.
‘Oh, did you hear about that boy?’ Ma said one night as we loafed around in front of the TV with the AC on full blast. Baba was watching Bangla TV as usual, the newsreader talking in formal Bangla so fast that I barely understood a word she said. It could have been Urdu, or Farsi, for all I knew. I gave up trying and closed my eyes instead, resting my head on Nani’s shoulder.
‘What boy?’ Baba asked distractedly.
‘You know, the one who gave the alaf for Maya? What was his name, Zaki?’
‘Ohh, Jakariya,’ Baba continued, chewing the triangle of paan that Nani had made for him. ‘What about him?’
My ears pricked up at the mention of Zak’s name and I tried my best not to move or give any indication that I was listening to the conversation.
‘Lovely boy,’ Nani piped up, despite never having met him. ‘Such a shame that it didn’t work out.’
‘Ask your beloved granddaughter why,’ Ma grumbled. I imagined her side-eyeing me as she said this, but I didn’t open my eyes to check. ‘Anyway, did you know that he’s moving to Dubai?’
‘Oh, yes, I heard about that,’ Baba replied. ‘He got a fantastic offer from a big investment bank. Such a shame. Imagine, Maya could have gone with him and made so much tax-free money. What a loss.’
My eyes flew open and as I was about to sit upright and say my piece, Malik spoke up.
‘Maya’s about to do her master’s, Baba. She can’t run off to another country now.’
Baba harrumphed audibly. ‘There’s a time and a place for everything. The time to study is over. Now is the time to get married. If she married this Jakariya, she wouldn’t need a better job, he earns enough.’
‘It’s never too late to study,’ Malik replied. ‘And I thought we believed that everything is in Allah’s hands? If Maya and Zakariya are meant to be, it’ll happen.’
My brother and my dad continued to debate and I settled back down in my comfortable position beside my grandmother, inhaling her familiar scent of Arabic-style oil perfume mixed with lavender detergent and Astral face cream. Malik finally had my back. He had heard me too.
