Syed sat on the sofa, Yasmin on his knee, waiting for Amira to finish in the shower. It still felt wrong to hear the sound of the water without Christian's enthusiastic singing to accompany it. He glanced over at his phone, lying silent on the coffee table, and willed the screen to light up with a text or call. He hated his phone now. Ever since Christian had left, every communication was a disappointment - because it was never him. And the rest of the time it just lay, dark and lifeless, reminding Syed of happier times when it constantly buzzed with affectionate, amusing and sometimes downright dirty texts. The Christian-shaped hole in his heart ached at the memory, and he deliberately turned his attention back to Yasmin, pushing the pain temporarily away. When was he going to stop feeling like this?
Christian stepped out of the shower and reached for the towel. He used to love showers - preparing for a night out, emerging from the steam to find Syed waiting on the bed, eyes full of love and lust, ready to advise him on what to wear, then sending him off to Roxy with a kiss full of promise. The only time Christian didn't sing in the shower was when they showered together - his mouth too busy smiling, or just too busy, to form coherent tunes. Now Christian never sang. Showers were just a way of getting clean. No Syed to laugh at his choice of song, no Syed to admire his body when he emerged, no Syed to send him lovingly on his way, no Syed to text throughout the night, and no Syed to come home to. He wasn't even sure why he bothered going out at all - he couldn't summon any interest in any of the faceless men in any of the bars he went to. It was as if all the joy and colour had drained from the world and he was just going through the motions, killing time. When was he going to stop feeling like this?
Syed and Amira walked across the Square towards the park, Syed pushing Yasmin in her buggy. Amira was talking about some killer heels she wanted but couldn't afford, while Syed was finding amusement in deliberately ignoring her not-so-subtle hints that he buy them for her. On seeing Roxy emerge from the Minit Mart, he let go of the buggy's handles, threw a quick "Gimme a minute" to Amira and jogged over.
"Rox. Roxy!" he called, desperate to get her attention.
Roxy stopped and turned, rolling her eyes.
"What, Syed? What now? How many times? It's over, he's not coming back. You've really got to just get on with your life - and stop bugging me."
"Look, I know. I agree. I'd love to move on. But it's just really hard when we never had a proper talk. I gave up everything for him, and he just walked out, no explanation, no discussion. If I'd left work five minutes later I wouldn't even have seen him. I need closure Rox, and for that I need to talk to him. Just once. Then I can move on."
Roxy looked at him. She'd never been Syed's biggest fan, but even she could see the hurt, the confusion, the pain in his eyes. And he and Christian had been practically joined at the hip for the best part of 18 months. To go from that to nothing, with no explanation or discussion, well, it must be really hard. Perhaps one last conversation would help them both move on.
"Oh OK. I'll talk to him.", she relented, "Suggest he gives you a ring, or something. Just to clear the air. No promises mind."
"Thank you, Rox. Seriously, thank you so much." He opened his mouth to say more, but then Amira's voice echoed across the Square.
"Syed, are you coming? Yasmin and I are freezing over here."
Roxy watched Syed turn and walk slowly back over to his wife and child. He had the same air of sadness that Christian walked around with these days. "Love sucks," she thought to herself.
"Hello Amy! Hello Amy's mummy!" said Christian with a smile, kissing Roxy on the cheek and taking his goddaughter into his strong arms. "What a lovely surprise. I hope you've come to play. Uncle Christian is really bored of sitting round the house on his own."
Despite his sing-song tone, Roxy could hear the bitterness underneath. She glanced around the flat - it was spotless. Christian was in his tracksuit. This was not good.
"D'ya fancy a cuppa?"
"Yeah, ta." Roxy threw herself onto the sofa, as Amy pottered around the flat, investigating everything she found by putting it in her mouth. "So wot you been up to today?"
"Nothin' much. Had a client first thing, then just been sittin' around, reading magazines, watched a bit of telly. I thought I might have a go at my accounts, but when I saw all the receipts I couldn't face it."
"You are officially rubbish. If you're not going to do it yourself, you really need to get a proper accountant or you'll get into real trouble. I'm sure Phil could recommend someone."
"I know, I know. I just can't face it right now."
She knew what he meant. Syed had done all the accounts for his business and getting another accountant would mean admitting it was really over. God, this whole situation was a mess, Christian was a mess, Syed was a mess. This couldn't go on.
Christian handed over her tea and sat down on the floor, beckoning Amy towards him. She tottered over with a big smile on her face.
"I saw Syed today."
"I don't wanna hear it, Rox. He's history."
"That's bollocks and you know it. If he was history you'd be able to say his name. If he was history, you'd be seeing other people. If he was history you'd be able to hire an accountant!"
"Just drop it Rox. Shall we draw a picture Amy? Look, here are the pens..."
"No, I won't drop it. You're miserable, he's miserable, and neither of you can move on until you've had a proper talk."
"No."
"And I don't mean a row where you fling insults at each other. And I don't mean a ten second conversation as you're getting in a cab. And I don't mean messages relayed via other people. I mean a proper talk where you say what you've gotta say, hear what he's gotta say, then you shake hands and move on."
"I dunno Rox."
"Look, if you don't, all that anger and sadness you're bottling up is gonna eat away at you forever."
"D'ya really think it's that easy?"
"No I don't. I know it's hard. But it's not going to get any easier until you talk to him. And I'm sick of dragging Amy half way across London to see you. You can't avoid him forever. And he really needs to know why you left. The full reason. Do you really think it's fair that I know more about why your relationship ended than he does?"
"OK, OK. I'll think about it. That's a lovely picture Amy. Who's that? Is it mummy?"
Amy's timing could not have been better.
"No, it's uncle Syed."
"Fine! I'll call him!" cried an exasperated Christian. Roxy smirked. Not even the great Christian Clark could withstand an assault by the Mitchell women.
Syed watched as Amira tucked Yasmin back in her buggy. Sometimes the strength of his feelings for this baby that he hardly knew still took his breath away. Is this how his dad felt when he looked at Shabnam? But, no, it wasn't the same. His father had a proper family, with a wife he shared a bed with and children he'd cared for since the day they were born. He and Amira were getting on fine, they shared a flat and enjoyed each other's company, but something about it felt so wrong. Even though Syed had been absolutely clear with Amira that there could never be anything more than friendship between them, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that, to all outward appearances, they were just another happy young family. And what really bugged him is that he couldn't correct them. Amira WAS his wife. Yasmin WAS their daughter. They DID live together. Sometimes he wanted to scream at the world "But it's not like that! I'm gay and she sleeps in the spare room and I cry myself to sleep at night because I've just lost the love of my life!" But instead he let them think it, and every time he did, he hated himself a little more.
His phone buzzed with a text, interrupting his melancholy thoughts. "Christian!", was his first instinct. But of course it wouldn't be really. It would be his mother telling him to come for dinner. Or Tam asking him to help in the restaurant. Or Tanya telling him about an appointment. He took it out and looked at the screen. His heart skipped a beat. A text from Christian. He looked again. Unable to really believe it. A text. From Christian. His mind went into overdrive. 'He's coming back! But then he would just have come back. He's saying it's definitely over. But he's already said that. He wants to collect something. But he would have sent Roxy. He's telling me he's got a new boyfriend. Oh god no. Not that.' Syed's stomach lurched and he felt sick. He couldn't open it. He couldn't bear to read that. Not yet. Not so soon. Not ever.
"Who is it babe? Does your mum want us over again? I'm not sure I can take another evening of heavy, spicy food. I'd rather stay at ours and have a salad.'
Syed's couldn't think straight, so the truth came tumbling out. "It's Christian."
Amira glowered. "What does he want?"
"I don't know. I'm scared to open it. What if it's bad, what if..."
"Just delete it Syed. It's over. He walked out and dumped you by texting Jane. You don't have to listen to anything he's got to say. Just delete it."
Syed was still transfixed by the name on the screen. Mentally preparing himself for whatever the message could be.
"You've moved on. You've got a family now. You don't have time for his tantrums and teenage behaviour. Do you want me to delete it for you?"
But Syed hadn't heard a word she said. Whatever Christian had to say, at least it was contact. He braced himself and opened the text.
'Walford park. Usual bench. 2pm'
Syed's heart thumped at a hundred miles an hour. His legs gave way and he slumped down on the bench behind him. Their bench. The one they met at during the affair days. The one where in a couple of hours they would once again be meeting up. Was that a sign? Or just coincidence?
"Syed? Are you OK?"
"Yeah. Fine. You go on ahead. I'm just going to sit here for a while."
"What did he say?" there was fear in her voice, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No, thanks. It's fine. I just need to be on my own for a bit. Go round to mum's. I'll see you later."
Amira reluctantly walked off, pushing Yasmin. She'd thought Christian was history, but here he was again, pulling Syed's strings. Next time he was in the shower, she'd have to take a look at that text. She needed to know what she was up against. Should she tell Zainab and get her to put more pressure on? She took one last look back. Syed was still sitting on the bench, staring at the message on his phone. But something was different, and Amira's heart broke a little at what she saw. Despite the frown on his face and the worry in his eyes, he was happier. The dark cloud that had been hanging over him since Christian left had lifted. With a pang, Amira finally realised that no amount of family dinners, trips to the park and birthday parties could make Syed as happy as one text from Christian. It didn't matter whether they were together or not, he would always love Christian more. She knew she had lost.
"I'm going to hear him out, and that's it. I know exactly what he's going to say - he'd just found out I was a father. Well, boo hoo. I'd just found out he was a father too. Does he think that was easy for me? He knew how desperate I was for us to have a child of our own. Could he not see that him having one with HER was like stamping all over my dreams in combat boots? And the sneaking around - again! Cosy chats in the park, in the caf, lying to me about where he was going. No mention of divorce or access rights or my role in all this. He just slipped back into the closet without giving me a second's thought.
If he thinks I'm ever going back there, well, he's wrong.
I don't need it, Rox. I really don't. I'm an attractive, intelligent, dynamic man with his own business. I can get another boyfriend easily, if I wanted one. A boyfriend who wants to be with me without all the hangups and the drama. Someone who actually likes being gay, who knows how to have fun.
I mean, Muslim, for god's sake? What the hell was I thinking? And with the family from hell to go along with it. People who hide their hate and violence behind a veil of piety and whose love is conditional on obedience and social status.
I'll make it clear that I don't blame Syed for his upbringing and conditioning, but just that I can't deal with it any more. I can't love someone who doesn't love himself. Despite all we went through he still wants to be that straight man in that 'normal' marriage and I can't live my life feeling that my partner is settling for second best, is not happy with who he is and what we are. He will never be happy, so I can't be happy when I'm with him. But now I can move on, find someone who will love me without reservation, not be constantly wishing he was straight.
I'm sure he'll have stuff to say too. Probably ask me why I left. And I can explain, and help him understand. And, fair's fair, apologise for leaving like that. But I had to get out. Couldn't take it any more, and that's why I know it's over. Because I love him too much, it hurts too much. No, I mustn't say that. That'll give him false hope. It's because I deserve better. The way he was with Amira and Yasmin, that just showed me that he had never been truly fulfilled with me. And the Ben thing, that just showed how he never really trusted me. And without fulfillment and trust there is no relationship.
So I'll hear what he has to say and, no matter how much he pleads for me to come back, no matter how much he tries to reassure me that things will change, no matter how much he says he was confused or shocked or scared, I'm not going to budge an inch. I'll just stay really calm, really cool and just keep reiterating that it's over. I'm sorry it ended like that, but it's over. No going back."
"Yep. Good. So I was saying that Amy's birthday's next week and..."
"Besides, he's had weeks of Zainab dripping poison in his ear, pointing out how unsuitable I am, how irresponsible. Really? And she's a responsible mother, is she? Wishing her own son dead rather than being happy with me. And we were happy. Whatever she wants to believe, she must have seen how happy he was. How can she prefer him to be in some miserable sham of a marriage? Well, she's got her wish. No doubt she's loving it. I'd love to wipe the smug look off her face, but I can't take him back just to get one over on Zainab. I can't believe I even contemplated marriage when she'd be my mother-in-law. Another reason why I've had a lucky escape."
As Christian crashed around the flat, pretending to tidy up, Roxy rolled her eyes and looked at her watch. Thank goodness - only another half an hour of this before he had to leave. She almost felt sorry for the tirade of abuse that Syed was about to suffer. At least he would get the message that it was well and truly over.
Syed was still sitting on the bench, unaware of how cold he'd become.
"If he thinks I'm just going to take him back, then he's wrong. He left, walked out, without talking to me, without a proper explanation and then sends a message via Jane to say it's over. We were engaged, making a lifetime commitment, and he just walks out? That's not the kind of person I need in my life. Especially now I have Yasmin, I need someone who can make a promise and stick to it, who can work through problems, not just throw his toys out of the pram at the first hurdle. I need someone reliable.
And he just doesn't think things through. Provoking Phil Mitchell, however ludicrous the accusations, is just stupid. Dangerous. He could have ended up in hospital, or dead. Yasmin could have been hurt. Out and proud is one thing, but thoughtless and reckless is another. Yasmin has to come first.
No, I could never have him back. Not unless he promised to change. And we are incompatible in so many other ways too. I would be much better off with a Muslim guy, someone who can understand that cultural pressures, who I could pray with, discuss the Quran with. Not someone who can't have fun without a drink and whose attention span is as long as an article in Hello.
I need to focus on Yasmin now. I don't need Christian's histrionics and attention seeking. Life has been so much quieter and calmer since he left. Amira and I are getting on really well - no arguments, no ultimatums.
Yes, I miss him. Of course I do. I suppose there's a part of me that will always love him. But he was right, love isn't enough. There has to be trust and understanding, and he just wasn't capable of trusting me, that I was working hard on securing access to Yasmin and a divorce for US. And I was making progress, I really was, and if he had listened and trusted me he would know that. But even after everything I gave up, everything I embraced - marriage, adoption - he still didn't trust me, still didn't believe I was committed, still thought I was flirting with Amira to keep my options open, when all the time I was doing it to keep her on side, to keep our daughter in our lives, so that he could be part of that. If he'd only been more patient I could have got us everything we ever wanted. We could have been really happy. But no, he ruined it with his temper and his childish behaviour. That's not the sort of person I want bringing up my daughter.
But I can't move on until HE accepts that he behaved badly too. Until he apologises for leaving like that. Until he accepts some of the responsibility. If he can do that, I can let it go, let him go, and move on. That's all I want from him today, an apology. Nothing more."
It was 1:59pm. Syed knew this because he had looked at his phone every thirty seconds for the last ten minutes. His stomach was doing backflips and his hands were shaking. But he was clear in his mind. Whatever Christian said, they both knew it just couldn't work. He had to stay strong, say his piece, and say goodbye.
It was 1.59pm. Christian knew this because he had looked at his phone as soon as he came out of the tube, and he kept checking it as he walked towards the park. His stomach was in knots and he kept clenching and unclenching his hands. All he had to do was stay calm, apologise for leaving, explain why it would never work, and say goodbye.
Christian turned the corner and froze when he saw Syed sitting on the bench. He looked so small and lost.
Syed saw Christian the instant he appeared. He stood up sharply then sat down again, then stood up again. Christian looked so sad.
As they stood stock still they looked at each other. Really looked. Seeing each other properly for the first time in weeks. Memories flooded back, the hurt, the pain, the anger, but then the passion, the love, the deep, deep happiness they had once felt, wrapped in each other's arms.
In an instant they were running across the grass. They hurtled into each other, lips coming together so hard their teeth colided; hands grasping desperately at each other's hair, ears and neck; mouths murmuring everything they had vowed not to say - I love you, I missed you, I need you. At that moment they both realised what they had known all along. It had never really ended. It would never end.
Eventually, as the passion subsided, their kisses became more gentle and their hands began to stoke and caress. Syed was the first to speak, but it was the softest of whispers, tender and forgiving.
"We have to talk."
"I know. We will. Later. I promise"
"After?"
"Yes. After."
They smiled, and looked into each other's eyes. And for the first time in six weeks those eyes sparkled once again with love, lust and happiness.
Syed took Christian's hand.
"Let's go home."
As they walked back across the Square two other pairs of eyes followed them closely.
Amira, peering out of the Masood's front window, watched them sadly, accepting the inevitability of it all and realising that she would have to build a new dream for the future. But at least Yasmin had a father and a family now. She was not on her own. She could be strong.
Roxy had lurked outside the park, ready to lend Christian a reassuring shoulder should he need it. But when she saw them, holding each other so tight they seemed glued together, she knew her work was done. She ducked out of site and watched until they rounded the corner, then looked at her phone - 2.05pm. She laughed to herself and knelt down to Amy in her push chair.
"Well, so much for a long conversation. I think we'll be seeing a lot more of uncle Christian from now on. And uncle Syed too. No more smelly buses for us! Come on, let's go play on the swings."
The door of number 43 Albert Square closed. Behind it, the healing started.