‘And then she did what all clever mother-in-laws do, which is turn on the waterworks and pretend to have an anxiety attack.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’
‘Anil panicked, which only made her more hysterical. I tried to calm her, give her some water and get her to lie down, but she wouldn’t stop crying. So I left. He didn’t run after me. He stayed with his mum. I think it’s pretty obvious that he’s chosen her over me. So I called it off. I’m meeting him tomorrow to return the ring.’
There’s nothing else to say. I pop an éclair into my mouth. And then I wedge a corn chip between two chocolate biscuits and hand it to her. She gives me a grateful smile and rests her head against my shoulder.
I leave Nirvana’s house at two in the morning and am woken at seven by the sound of Mum clearing the cupboards in Senem’s old bedroom. She’s got it in her head to start spring-cleaning in preparation for Senem and Farouk moving in.
Needless to say I’m not in the mood for meeting Aydin or Metin today. I know that’s unfair on them, but I’m drained. To their credit, they both understand and are happy to reschedule: Metin on Wednesday night, and Aydin on Thursday night.
I’m making a decision by then. I’m not going to drag this out any longer. If I end up losing both, so be it. That’s my destiny (vomit).
I spend Sunday evening hanging out at Senem’s place. Farouk is out fishing with a friend. Senem and I are watching a rom-com starring Jennifer Aniston and pigging out on junk food (me) and carrot sticks and rice crackers (her).
‘She’s got no hope,’ I mumble as I stare at the TV screen. ‘If you start with Brad Pitt, it’s all downhill from there.’
My phone beeps. A text message from Ruby: Can’t talk, call you back tomorrow.
I’ve been calling and texting her all day to find out what happened with Alex but until now she hasn’t responded. I send her a text back: That’s evil! I’m dying to know what happened. Have you been over to Nirvana’s yet? She told me she’d spoken to you.
I figure Ruby must be busy because she doesn’t reply.
‘Hey, there’s something important you’re forgetting,’ Senem says in a muffled voice, her mouth filled with rice crackers.
‘What’s that?’ I ask, popping a Malteser and some popcorn in my mouth.
‘Make sure you talk about your faults.’
I give her a bewildered look. ‘Huh?’
‘It’s in all the relationship books,’ she says authoritatively. ‘Have you and Aydin and Metin—’ She laughs, ‘You sound like such a tease – have you discussed your faults?’
‘Senem!’ I cry, hitting her with a cushion. ‘Is there a checklist of topics we need to get through?’
‘Of course. You’re in fast-forward mode, remember? That’s how it is with arranged dates.’
‘I’m so confused,’ I groan. ‘I’m two-timing.’
‘I know! Let’s draw up a list for each of them!’
‘Senem!’ I growl. ‘I’m twenty-eight, not eighteen.’
‘Sorry,’ she mutters.
I raise my eyes to the ceiling and sigh. ‘I didn’t mean to snap. I just don’t want to talk about it.’
‘I only want you to be happy.’
‘I know,’ I say.
We’re silent for a few minutes, watching the movie.
Then Senem, to my surprise, changes the topic. ‘Do you think Mum and Dad are happy?’
At first I’m too startled to respond. Worrying about Mum and Dad? That’s my territory. I fumble for an answer. ‘Why?’
‘You can’t answer a question with a question.’
‘Says who?’
It would be the perfect time to confide in Senem. I don’t, though. Because I’d be asking her to lie to Farouk, and I don’t think she would do that, even for the sake of family. I trust Farouk, but if Dad doesn’t want him to know, then it’s not for me to disrespect his wishes.
‘I think they’re happy enough,’ I say. ‘Well, I guess they don’t seem unhappy.’
She snorts. ‘That’s something to aspire to. Dad’s been a stress-head even more than usual lately.’
‘Oh, you’ve, um, noticed?’
She plays with a strand of her hair, staring at the TV screen. ‘Yep. Stressed out and on edge. When I see him, that is. He’s always working. I don’t understand why he doesn’t retire. He’s old enough. He’s got to stop being such a workaholic. It’s not fair on Mum.’
I start to choke on the corn chip I’ve just put in my mouth. I splutter and cough, and once I’ve gulped down some water, Senem looks at me with wry amusement.
‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘Let’s just watch the movie.’
‘Is everything okay, Esma?’ she says hesitantly. ‘You’ve been so distracted lately.’
‘Everything’s fine.’
She’s clearly not convinced but, mercifully, she doesn’t probe. Instead, she looks at me tenderly, then leans in close and snuggles up to me.
Forty-Four
I don’t hear from Ruby until the next day, as I’m waiting to order my ritual morning coffee.
‘Where have you been?’ I shout when I answer my phone.
‘Meet me for lunch,’ she says soberly. ‘At the statue in front of the Queen Victoria Building. Twelve-thirty okay for you?’
‘Is everything okay? What happened?’
‘Nothing, I’m fine. How’s Nirvana?’
‘Terrible. Have you spoken with her?’
‘Let’s talk at lunch. See you then.’ She hangs up and I’m left looking down at my phone, a little puzzled by her abrupt tone.
I’m used to seeing Ruby in control. So when I see her pale face and puffy eyes I immediately know something’s wrong.
‘What happened?’ I ask as I hug her hello.
She leads me to the nearest café. We sit at an outdoor table and the waiter zooms over to take our order.
‘Sticky date pudding and an iced chocolate,’ Ruby says.
I turn to the waiter. ‘Make that two heart attacks, thanks.’
‘With or without cream?’
‘With,’ Ruby orders.
When the waiter leaves I fix my eyes on her. ‘Out with it,’ I say. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘All men are bastards,’ she says matter-of-factly. She’s looking everywhere except at my face, trying so hard to remain composed.
‘What happened, Ruby?’ I ask gently.
Her face crumples and she starts to cry. I jump up and sit beside her, putting my arm around her. My instinct is to protect her from people’s gazes. I know how much it pains Ruby to lose face. Her pride is deep. I’ve rarely seen her break down and I’m suddenly assailed by a deep sense of rage at Alex.
‘Take your time,’ I say softly, offering her some tissues.
She blows her nose and blots her eyes, trying to compose herself.
When she’s ready to talk she lets out a bark of laughter. ‘He made me cry. The bastard.’
‘What happened?’
‘I’m so embarrassed.’
Not wanting to push her, I wait for her to continue.
‘You left before things got crazy. The party was just starting and everybody wanted a piece of Alex. That made it easier for me to avoid him. But he was looking at me all night. Every time I glanced his way, I caught him staring at me. But each time he made it to me it was impossible to talk. Nobody would leave him alone. So he asked me if he could take me home. At least that way we could talk. And I said yes.’ She clears her throat.
‘Did he drive?’
‘No, we got a cab. He’ d been drinking too. That was it, really. We were in a cab and it’s just not the place to have a serious conversation. And he couldn’t exactly ask the cab driver to sit outside my place while we spoke. Don’t ask me how it happened, but we ended up back at his apartment ... Oh, I don’t know if I can even tell you.’ She pauses, fixing her gaze on a spot on the table.
I’m suddenly angry with her. ‘Oh
for God’s sake, Ruby, stop treating me like I’m some kind of judgemental prude! Since when have I ever imposed my beliefs on you? I’m one of your best friends!’ She looks up at me. ‘Ruby,’ I say, ‘after all these years if you don’t know me on this, you don’t know me at all. Don’t hurt me like that.’
‘I know, I know.’ She draws in a deep breath. ‘We slept together.’
‘Okay. So what happened?’
‘We got to his place. We were going to talk. I swear until that point I wasn’t going to back down. I was staying strong. He knew I was hurt and angry and deserved an explanation. I know alcohol isn’t an excuse either. It had something to do with it, but to be honest it was a combination of things. Just this heat and tension and ... I don’t know, before I knew what was happening he was kissing me and we couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to.’
‘Okay, but why is he a bastard? ... Oh my God, he didn’t hurt you, did he?’ My mind, corrupted by one too many episodes of Law & Order: SVU, goes into overdrive.
‘No! Nothing like that.’
‘But he’s a bastard?’
‘Because he has a girlfriend, only they’re kind of on a break. Well, were on a break. Oh God, who knows!’ She moans.
‘What do you mean, he has a girlfriend?’
‘I wasn’t imagining things between us. He was interested. After that night at the wedding, though, the guilt hit him, and that’s why he pulled back.’
‘So he was leading you on, even though he was in a relationship?’
‘He’s saying it wasn’t really a relationship because they were on a break.’
‘Oh Ruby.’ I squeeze her hand.
‘He’s begged me to stay. He says he’s fallen for me.’ She snorts. ‘Do you know what’s so funny about the whole thing? He says that he can’t believe I fell for him. That he thought I might have feelings for him but he convinced himself that I couldn’t really like him. He didn’t think a “big-shot lawyer” like me would think twice about a high school drop-out like him. Apparently his ex is an engineer and her parents got in her ear about being with someone on the same level, so they took a break to allow her time to think things through.’
‘But why did he only feel guilty halfway through?’
‘You mean, why did things between us go from the Sahara to Antarctica?’
I nod.
‘Because after that night at the wedding, when things were moving so fast between us, he says he didn’t want to get involved with me until he’ d ended it properly with his ex. So instead of being upfront with me, he pretended nothing had happened.’
‘That’s just ... just ...’
‘Mental! I know. I’m in denial, Esma. I feel like I’m in some kind of bad soap opera. How could I stuff things up like this? I’ve only been intimate with one other guy, and we were together for four years. I don’t do one-night stands.’ She tears at her napkin, throwing tiny bits into the empty ashtray.
‘So let me get this straight. He’s on a break with this engineer chick who’s decided she’s too good for him and has dumped him on the basis that he’ll just wait around for her to decide whether or not he’s worth being with, and he’s agreed to this?’
She nods.
I scrunch up my face. ‘No comment.’
She shrugs. ‘Love makes people idiots. He thought he loved her and at one stage he was willing to wait for her. I think it was a matter of her having to convince her parents that he’s good enough, rather than her feeling he’s not.’
‘Is she Greek too?’
‘Nope. Eastern European.’
‘Okay, so where are the two of you at now?’
‘He told me he’s ending it with her. He says he wants to be with me, that meeting me has given him back his self-confidence. Her family made him feel like nothing. Which makes things all the more complicated, given my family will probably be just as bad. But even putting that aside, how can I trust him?’
‘What’s worrying you the most?’ I ask. ‘That he’ll go back to his ex?’
‘No, it’s not that at all ... I really doubt he’s going to wait around for her to make a decision. It’s pretty demeaning for him. I just feel betrayed. It’s not as though his ex is in his past. She’s still part of his present. Even if he tells her he never wants to see her again, I had the right to know all this before we slept together! I mean, what if being with me had made him realise he wanted his ex back?’
I cock an eyebrow at her. ‘I really doubt that, Ruby.’
‘It’s possible,’ she argues. ‘Then he would have been using me to test his feelings. I don’t need to be sucked into some kind of love triangle. I deserve better than that.’
‘Of course you do. What does he say in his defence? Has he tried talking to you since you walked out?’
‘He keeps calling and sending me text messages. I’ve ignored him.’
The waiter brings us our order and Ruby thrusts her fork into the sticky date pudding (no doubt visualising Alex’s body parts, and not the upper variety either) but then pushes the plate aside.
‘I don’t know why I bothered ordering. I’ve lost my appetite.’ She taps the fork on the side of her glass.
‘Ruby?’
‘Mmm?’
‘Do you still have feelings for him?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice is soft.
‘He backed off because he felt guilty two-timing. Okay, so it was dumb of him not to talk to you before you ended up in bed, but it does sound as though things were pretty steamy between you. He could be the worst mistake of your life. Or the best. Maybe you should give him a chance to explain. Talk to him and find out if he’s willing to earn your forgiveness and start all over again.’
Forty-Five
‘Lisa,’ I groan on the phone in the afternoon. ‘I need some escapism.’
‘One sec, Esma. Yes, those applications must be lodged before five or the tribunal won’t accept them. And don’t forget the Vsediah appeal! Sorry, Esma, it’s crazy here. As usual.’
‘I’ll let you go then.’
‘I’m sorry. What’s up?’
‘Can I come over this afternoon to help out?’
‘Are you kidding? Of course you can! See you after five.’
Oh, the irony of it all. Working on asylum seeker applications is going to be my form of escapism. But I need to forget a world of confused relationships and agonising family dynamics, of stupid guys and broken hearts; I need to feel that there’s something bigger than that, something more important.
It’s not that I feel inconvenienced by Ruby’s and Nirvana’s problems. It’s because I’m aching for them, feeling their pain. I’ve had many friends over the years, but Nirvana, Ruby and Lisa are the ones who’ve marked me. They’re part of me now. And when they’re hurting, I’m hurting too.
I once read an anonymous quote posted on somebody’s Facebook wall that said: A friend is someone who is there for you when they’d rather be anywhere else. It sounds horrible, but God, how true it is this week. That’s how it is when Nirvana calls me on my way home from the Sydney Refugee Centre. I really just want to go home to bed, but I can’t ignore the quaver in her voice. She lives only ten minutes from my house so I swing by to see her.
‘He’s begging me to reconsider,’ she says when we’re ensconced on the couch drinking steaming cups of hot chocolate and demolishing a packet of ginger biscuits. ‘I gave him back the ring and he cried, Esma. And I was so tempted to take it all back. But if I don’t have courage now, I’ll never have it.’
‘Does he admit that his mum’s a problem?’
‘Yes. But he still defends her. He thinks I need to learn how to deal with her and that I should be more sympathetic to her point of view.’ She slumps further down into the couch. ‘I told him I’m emotionally drained. We haven’t even had the engagement party yet, let alone started our married life. I told him that I’m not supposed to feel so unhappy. If it’s like this now, imagine how it’ll be later.’
‘Is he fighting for you???
?
She nods slowly. ‘He says he’s talked to her, but she just cries and thinks I’m misunderstanding her. She says she’s trying to give me the best and I’m rejecting her efforts.’
‘Oh boy.’
‘I know a lot’s happening in their family at the moment. Neela and Sunil are really going through a crisis. The last thing Anil’s mother wants is a divorced daughter, not after what she’s been through. So if we have the perfect engagement and wedding, she thinks it will deflect from the shame of what’s going on in Neela’s life.’
I cringe. ‘That makes me so mad. The poor thing is in a bad marriage. She needs her mum’s support, not her emotional baggage.’
‘She is seriously out of touch, fulfilling some old-fashioned Bollywood script. Hardly anybody acts like she does any more.’
Nirvana’s mother, Mina, enters the room then. I get up and give her a kiss and a hug.
‘I’ve been cooped up in the study correcting essays.’ Mina is a high school English teacher. ‘Can I get you something to drink?’
I hold up my mug of chocolate. ‘Thanks, aunty, but I’ve got one already.’
‘So what do you think about the whole business?’ Mina’s tone is filled with uncertainty and confusion. She sits on the armrest of the chair beside us.
‘I think Nirvana’s one of the bravest people I know. It can’t be easy to call off an engagement. I’m sure many people have had their doubts and problems but got married anyway, out of a sense of duty.’
‘I know,’ she says. ‘I’m proud of Nirvana, and I’m furious with Anil’s mother. It’s all so silly. Nirvana’s grandmother has lived with us since I got married, and it’s been difficult at times, especially in the beginning. But she never behaved like this. And she belongs to a different generation where such antics were far more common.’
‘Mum, the problem isn’t so much Anil’s mum. The real problem is that Anil won’t stand up to her.’
Mina raises her eyes to the ceiling. ‘I really like Anil, and I don’t doubt that he adores Nirvana, but there are some men who simply never cut the apron strings. When Nirvana told us she was breaking it off, she was nervous about how we’ d react. But her father and I didn’t hesitate. I would rather my daughter were happily single than miserably married. And that’s the honest truth.’