Reunion
chapter 2
Syed sat on the sofa, with his head in his hands. He could hear his mother moving about in the kitchen - she was preparing dinner for the family, and for Bushra and Nadim. Syed groaned, just thinking about it. It was so important to his mother that they present a united front, that they show Bushra that he was better, that he was 'cured'. It was so important that she should accept this, that he should be accepted, acceptable. He knew what the alternative had been. Cutting him out of the family photograph, cutting him out of their lives. And so he knew he had to make this work. But how he would stand the dinner, the condescension, and the condemnation, he didn't know.
And the trouble was, of course, he wasn't cured. Of course he wasn't cured. He had tried, he had tried so hard. He had prayed so hard. But these days, when he shut his eyes, to pray, or to sleep, all he saw was Christian's face, and the hurt in his eyes the last time they had met.
It had been last week. They had been catering a function at the vic. Syed tried to stay away from the pub as much as he could - the combination of dread, and hope, that he felt at the prospect of bumping into Christian was too much to take. But there had been no way out of this one. And of course his mother hadn't been able to help herself; hadn't been able to resist talking about the therapy, about Allen... when he met Christian's eyes his expression had been almost too much for Syed to bear. He was angry, yes, and Syed could cope with Christian's anger. But not the pain and regret that he saw beneath it. Christian had turned away quickly, found some excuse to go back into the bar. Syed had wanted to run after him, to tell him it was alright, that of course nothing could erase their love. But of course he didn't. He held out, he smiled, he carried trays of food and drink, and avoided Christian's gaze for the rest of the evening, just as Christian avoided his.
Because he had to be cured, didn't he? The doorbell rang, and Syed rose to his feet, reluctantly, ready to answer it. But his mother was already out of the kitchen, bustling to the doorway, welcoming Bushra, kissing Nadim, commenting on how well they looked. There was no room now for Zainab's sly digs at Bushra's weight - she was prepared to grovel her way back into respectable society, and Syed knew he would have to do the same.
Glancing out of the window Syed saw his younger brother dashing back across the square. Tamwar, he thought. At least there's someone I can rely on in all this. Syed heard him in the hallway, dodging Nadim's attentions, and he stifled the urge to giggle. Tam entered the living room, a slightly guilty look on his face.
'Tamwar?' Syed looked at him suspiciously. 'What have you been up to?'