Sorry for the long, long, stupidly long wait. You've mostly got the girls over at DS for convincing *cough guilt-tripping cough* me to update and making me feel bad for not updating for so long. Mostly I was so blown away by NYD, I thought it was so perfectly done, that I couldn't write. I tend to find it really difficult to write when the show's saying exactly what I want it to say. Which explains why there were so many updates in October and November, eh?
There's also the actual content of this chapter I found difficult to contend with. Not much Christian/Syed (who are easy to write because I've overanalysed their scenes to a ludicrous degree) and tons of Jane and Masood. Bloody Masood. I thought Zainab was hard to write. Masood is near impossible. How is the cuddly, funny Masood so blooming complicated when you think about it? Also, you can tell I wrote this while I still liked Amira- I used to think rather highly of her, apparently! Seems like a long-ago distant memory.
Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait (though I doubt it) and I hope I can get another update quicker than two months!
February 2012
They walked out of the oncology room, Christian had a reassuring smile on his face, but Jane looked as miserable as she had when she walked in. He looked over at her, surprised to see the unhappiness hadn't abated one iota.
"Jane, that went well, considering," he reminded her softly, taking her hand in his and giving it a squeeze. "A few weeks and you're going to be good as new."
"Good as new," she repeated. "What am I? A broken toy?"
He glanced over at her, concerned. "Of course not. You know what I mean. As far as cancer goes…"
"As far as cancer goes, I'm lucky! I mean, really, I should be over the moon," she said, launching herself ahead of him.
He walked faster, trying to play catch-up. "Well, not 'over the moon', maybe, but at least you don't need chemo."
"They said probably won't. There's a big difference between 'probably' and definitely."
"To cover their arses. Nothing more. Come on, Jane, that was good news."
"Nothing to do with cancer is good news! That's like saying 'oh, it is such good news that I'm getting kicked out of my house, but at least I have this cardboard box!'"
"Really, though. That couldn't've have gone better, all things considered. It's all going to be fine."
"Yeah, for you," Jane retorted.
He froze, staring at her back. She didn't stop walking. "What is that supposed to mean?" he called after her, drawing the attention of several staff. He could practically see their fingers hovering over the 'security' button. He waved at them apologetically and caught up with his sister after she'd walked through the exit doors.
"You don't have to have part of your armpit cut out, or be slowly poisoned over several weeks," she said, then added under her breath, "And you're going back home tomorrow."
His face softened. "Jane, that's not fair. I don't have a choice about that."
She spun on her heel to face him so suddenly he almost banged straight into her. "Of course not. I mean, whatever Syed wants, Syed gets, right?"
He scoffed, incredulous. "Oh, yeah, Jane! Syed's really got it all. Have you been comatose for the past two years?"
"If you had your way, he would."
"Well, yeah," he replied, frowning at her tone. "I do tend to want the best for the people I love, crazy as that is…"
She sighed. "I just mean that you've lived your whole life for him the past two years," she told him. "It's…we've barely seen you."
He felt a small amount of anger rising, along with the guilt, but shoved it down. His sister was so pale her skin was almost translucent and the bags under her eyes indicated several days of lying awake worrying. It was difficult to let his hackles rise that much when she looked so vulnerable. "That's the way it works, Jane," he replied, gently. "You meet the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, and you move away."
"Right, that's the way it works. You steal off in the middle of the night for minimum drama, and then your ex-boyfriend cuts himself off from his family to be with you. It's the typical approach to relationships," she said, the sarcasm practically tangible. "Where's the car?"
He looked around, realising the car park didn't look at all familiar. "It's… uh around here somewhere," he said, without much confidence, and then continued, "Okay, so the circumstances weren't usual. But it's what happens, Jane. You just see your family a few times a year…"
"A few times a year!" she exclaimed. She lifted a hand to demonstrate, and wiggled her fingers as she said, "I think I could probably count on one hand the amount of times you've visited in the past two years. Actually, you haven't visited us at all, we've had to visit you."
"I've been busy," he said, and the lack of conviction in his own words rang as clear as a bell.
The lame excuse, unsurprisingly, did little to sway Jane. "With what? Your hundreds of friends? Seriously, Christian, it's not healthy to base your whole happiness on one person."
"You're married to Ian!" he said, unable to stop himself from blurting it out. "God knows what your marriage is based on, but it's not 'healthy'. Is there anything he could do that would actually make you leave him?"
Hurt sparked on her features, but her next comment was relatively calm, "So you think that this… codependent thing that you and Syed have going is good for you?"
"Well, it's certainly done me no harm," he said offhandedly. He pressed the button on the car key, trying to hear if the noise it made when it unlocked was anywhere close, but he couldn't make it out. "You know, I think we've come out of the wrong side."
"What are we going to do, walk around for half an hour?"
"It's not my fault this car park is ridiculously huge and has no markings."
"I wasn't paying much attention," she admitted.
"Me either. I was picturing all these circumstances where this tiny lump was…"
"Terminal? Yeah, me too. Ridiculous, isn't it? You just hear the word 'cancer' and you picture losing your hair and being a burden to everyone you love and not being able to do anything for yourself…"
"You would never be a burden, Jane," he told her, then pointed ahead. "There it is."
"I didn't notice before, it's a nice car," she said, as they approached it.
"Well, it's Syed's," he replied without thinking. He knew that the subject was going to return to Syed and wished he'd kept his mouth shut. The topic change wasn't going to be favourable.
"Christian, it's done you no harm because it's working," she said, calmly. "What happens when it all falls apart?"
"When?" he echoed.
She closed her eyes, regretfully. "If. I meant if."
"And yet it sounded like 'when'. Funny how they sound different," he spat, slamming the car door shut. It only made a quiet 'click', which was less dramatic than what he'd hoped.
"The type of relationship you have with Syed…"
"What type is that, oh, expert on my life?" he said, barely able to get the car started because he was so irritated.
"You thrive on misery and drama. The moment you both get content, it's over."
"Hate to break it to you, sis…"
"If Zainab and Masood accepted him, it would only be a matter of time before you got bored and…"
"Get bored?" he interrupted, really struggling to keep a lid on his rising anger. "You know, Jane, we didn't get together because of the relentless misery, oddly enough, it was in spite of it…"
"You're seriously telling me that if Syed had been from a family that accepted homosexuality wholeheartedly that you wouldn't have lost interest after a week?"
"All I wanted that entire time was to be with him properly."
"Yeah, because you couldn't be with him," she replied, looking worriedly at the speedometer. "Christian, slow down. It's a forty zone."
He paid her no attention. "I am with him, if you hadn't noticed. Did you forget the part where we've been together for two years?"
"Two years isn't a lifetime, Christian," she reminded him. "Might seem that way to you…"
"So, basically, you're saying the first proper relationship I've had is based entirely on wanting something I can't have?"
"You've always been the same," she said.
He was gripping the steering wheel to the point of pain, his knuckles turning white. "Right, because a stupid mistake I made a million years ago defines my character forever…"
"It does seem coincidental that the two people you loved were both taken."
"Isn't that just tough shit rather than me being a five-year-old?"
"I'm not saying it's you being a five-year-old. It was your way of protecting yourself."
"Right, it was really effective! I only had my heart broken, oh, sixteen times in seven months."
"A bloke who's thirty-seven and has never been in a serious relationship clearly has commitment problems. Falling in love with two taken men, when one of them was married to your sister and was straight and the other had the whole 'forbidden love' thing going for him, screams that that person has serious commitment problems," she said. "You weren't protecting yourself from heartbreak, but an actual commitment."
"And yet, here I am, in what would be popularly recognised as a 'committed relationship'…"
"I'm not saying you don't love him. In fact, I'm saying the opposite. You love him too much. Basing your whole happiness on a relationship- especially one that's had as many problems as yours- is dangerous. I just don't want you destroying yourself over this."
"Jane, I am really sorry you're taking this badly. But that doesn't mean you have to take it out on the person who is trying to help you…"
"It needs saying."
"Well, thank you for your concern," he said, scornfully. "I'm going to completely ignore it, but thank you anyway."
"Christian, I'm just trying to h…"
"I don't need your so-called help with anything," he told her gruffly.
The rest of the car journey was in silence, except for the occasional attempt from Jane to start a more light-hearted conversation. He ignored the attempts.
xxx
Except to give Syed a brief update on Jane's condition, Christian had been sitting in silence for most of the afternoon. Syed had tried to engage him in conversation a few times, but had been given curt one-word responses for his efforts.
"What's wrong with you?" he asked eventually. He'd been hoping Christian would tell him off his own back, but it was apparent that wasn't going to happen.
"Does it matter?" he snapped. "Do I need to be a fabulous mood all the time?"
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of their bunk bed this morning," Syed said, trying for cheerfulness.
He glanced over at Syed's concerned face, feeling all his agitation leave him. What Jane had said to him was hardly his fault. At least, not directly his fault. "I'm sorry. It's just…"
Syed waited, expectant. "Just…?"
He sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. "It doesn't matter."
"Whatever it is has riled you up, so it clearly does matter."
"It's stupid, really. Jane was just saying some stuff before."
"About…?"
"Us."
Syed frowned. "As in… you and Jane?"
He indicated between the two of them. "Us."
"What was she saying? I know she's not a fan of me but…"
"It wasn't that. Well, she's not a fan, which might have something to do with it, actually. But she was saying I only wanted you because I couldn't have you."
Syed looked at him for a long moment before replying, "And?"
"Is this just the common perception?"
"Well, it did amplify things, didn't it?" Syed told him.
"So, it wasn't your various charms?"
"Look, same went for me. The more I couldn't have you, the more I wanted you. It's human nature. I'm pretty sure if humankind got everything it wanted, it would just die out because there'd be nothing to strive for," he said, with a shrug. "What's the problem?"
"She said, and I quote, we 'thrive on misery and drama' and the moment both of us are content, it'll be over."
Syed mulled it over for a couple of moments, before scoffing, "Well, that's just stupid."
"That's what I said."
"Seriously, she thinks we liked being miserable?"
"2009 was the best year of my life, apparently. Who knew?"
"Mine too. It's right up there with the start of 2010 for me," he said. "You don't think she's… right, do you?"
"Well, she seems to think so," Christian replied. "She seemed really sure of herself."
"But you…"
"Don't. Obviously. I think she was just upset about being ill and was taking it out on me. Surely, the moment we got away from your mother, we would've split up if that was true, wouldn't we?"
"Yeah. I mean, I know it hasn't always been easy for us, but we've been happy most of the time, right?"
"And I haven't been overwhelmed by the urge to run away from you yet."
"Well, I have, but only when you've been drinking the night before and you're spewing up in the toilet. Seriously, if that sight hasn't killed all my affection for you, nothing will. Especially not happiness."
"Contentment, she said."
"There's a difference?"
"Isn't contentment the one that people use as an excuse to get fat and lazy and call it 'settled'?"
"If you weren't so vain, you'd have done that as well," Syed pointed out.
"You got thinner. What does that say?"
"That my metabolism gets better with age? That I've been doing a lot more… exercise than I used to?"
"Actually, I lied before, you're looking a bit flabby, you definitely need a bit of exercise to tone up."
He looked down at himself, before smiling at Christian. "Definitely. Practically obese."
There was a loud buzzing from the intercom that made them both flinch. Christian lay back on the sofa, his eyes closed. "Dammit. Do we emit some kind of signal?"
"Ignore it," he suggested quietly.
"Last time you said that, my sister had cancer!"
"Fine, answer it, then," he replied, mock-petulantly. "But if someone hasn't had a tragic accident, I'm blaming you."
Christian gave him a dirty look. "Hello?" he greeted, hoping in those two syllables he managed to convey bog-off-for-half-an-hour-unless-it-was-absolutely-urgent.
A familiar voice came down the line, but it took him a couple of seconds to identify it. "Is Syed there?" Masood asked.
"Depends," Christian replied.
"On what?"
"What you want to see him for."
Syed looked up, mouthing 'who is it?' Christian covered the mouthpiece. "Your dad. He wants to talk to you. I reckon he wants to murder you, but he said 'talk'. I think it's a euphemism, though."
"Brilliant," he muttered under his breath.
Christian looked over his shoulder at him. "Should I let him up? I'll go away?"
"Nah, I'll go down. Could do with some witnesses who aren't terribly biased in my favour if he chooses to kill me."
"He's coming down," Christian said to Masood.
The other end went dead.
"Bye, then," he muttered churlishly.
"Wonder what he wants," Syed said.
Christian clapped his hands together, a huge fake smile on his face. "To take you out on the swings, then you can go for ice cream."
Syed glared at him. "Seriously, though. He's been avoiding talking to me most of the past fortnight. I'm going home and now he wants to talk to me?"
"Maybe that's why he wants to talk to you. In case he doesn't get another chance."
"What's left to say?" Syed asked, quietly.
Christian shrugged almost carelessly, but his face was sombre. "I don't know. Not an expert on the parent-son relationship in general."
"Better go see what he wants."
"Yeah. Good luck."
"I need it."
He gave Christian a quick peck as he passed. As he opened the door, he looked over his shoulder and found Christian smiling at him reassuringly.
xxx
They'd been walking around the Square for a few minutes before either of them said anything. Both of them knew that there were too many unspoken words between them, that needed saying, but neither knew where to start. Since his dad had been the one to induce the contact, Syed thought it was only fair that he was the one to start the conversation. He clearly had something explicit he wanted to say. Unless walking around in a circle in awkward silence was his father's idea of a good time, that was.
"You know what the worst part was, for me?" he said, eventually. He started like they'd been mid-conversation. Syed supposed, in a way, they had been.
Syed didn't say anything. Even though his father seemed calm enough, he knew enough not to say anything to rile him up when he was discussing such emotional things.
"The fact that you promised your mother you wouldn't see him again, and even had the nerve to make out like you were miserable when you were plotting to run away with him…"
Syed burst out in hysterical laughter. So much for not riling him up. "What?"
Masood looked in various directions around him, assuming Syed had seen something that had set him off. "What's funny?"
"It's not funny, it's just so… you…" He couldn't seem to get a grip on his incredulity and his remaining words were swallowed by cackling. He could see his father changing colour with anger, but that just added fuel to the fire of his hysteria.
"Syed, I don't know why I bother. I really don't."
His father started to walk away, and Syed managed to regain control of himself, though a few muted chuckles still forced their way out to catch up with him, and place a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Look, sorry. I'm sorry. I just… it was so ridiculous. What did Mum tell you, exactly?"
"That you'd run away, with Christian. That you loved us, but you couldn't do it anymore."
"And from that you just…" he paused, and made a vague gesture, "filled in the blanks?"
"Your mother didn't particularly like to dwell on it. For the first month or so, no-one could so much as mention your name, without her bursting into tears."
Syed looked down at the floor, gripping his lip between his thumb and forefinger. "Dad, I didn't plan it."
Masood looked at him, seemingly genuinely confused. "What?"
"I didn't plan it. I had no idea that Christian was leaving until about three hours before he did. I hadn't spoken to him in weeks, since I told him it was over. Like I said."
"Then how did you find out?"
Syed hesitated before replying, knowing how it sounded, "Amira told me."
"If you're going to talk a load of old rubbish, I don't know why I'm both…"
"If I was lying, I'd at least make it a plausible lie, wouldn't I? Or if not a plausible lie, an interesting one, like David Jason told me. Why would I lie anyway? What's the point of lying now?"
"That is true. When it comes to lying, you are an expert."
Only his father could turn an 'I believe you, son' into an insult. Syed just rolled his eyes in response.
"Why on earth would she do it, though?"
He shrugged, the old feelings of guilt burning in his stomach. "She loved me."
His father stared at him a long moment. "I always did say she was too good for you."
April 2010
There was a gentle knock at the door. If he hadn't been sitting in silence so as not to disturb his mother, he probably wouldn't have heard it. He had no idea who it could be. His mother was upstairs asleep, his father was doing his rounds and his brother was at sixth form. As with any knock, or phone call, a part of him hoped it was Christian, but he knew he'd never take the risk of upsetting his family like that, and his knock was a lot more forceful than that. Still, the illogical part of his brain was hoping for it. When he opened the door, it was Amira, and he couldn't have been more surprised if it had been Christian. Except for the odd accidental encounter on the Square, he hadn't seen her since she'd told him to stay out of her life forever. She had an anxious look on her face, and her little hands were curled into fists. If he'd had to describe her demeanour, he would have said 'agitated'.
"Are you in trouble?" he asked. It was the first thing that came to mind. She didn't really have anybody else to turn to, and she looked upset.
She sniffed haughtily. "As if I'd come to you for help," she replied. "No, I'm not 'in trouble'. You might be, though."
He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the door frame. "What have I done now?"
She regarded him for a moment, and if he hadn't known better, he would have sworn he'd seen pity in her countenance. "It's actually more what you haven't done."
The pity in her face made shame swell in his gut, which always made him lash out. "Amira, I really, really can't be bothered to mess about. You told me to leave you alone, I did. I couldn't feel worse about what I did to you if I tried. What more do you want?"
"Fine, be like that," she said. "Can I come in?"
His brow creased, at the disparity between the two sentences. "I suppose." He waited a moment, listening to make sure that there was silence before stepping aside to let her in.
She gave him a disdainful look as she walked past him. "Don't get too enthused. You might just explode."
"I don't want to get Mum's hopes up," he replied quietly. He gave a glance to the stairs, as if they were ready to tell his secrets. "She's having a nap while she can. While the baby's asleep, I mean."
"Okay. I came here to tell you… you know, it's really not my place," she said, then continued, almost to herself, "If he'd wanted you to know, he'd have told you himself..."
"Who? Christian? Has he been talking to you? What did he say? Is he okay?" he asked, the rush of questions coming out in a rush before he could stop himself. The level of concern in his voice made hurt flash across her features, but it was gone so quickly it could have been an illusion.
"I haven't been talking to Christian," she replied flatly.
He tried to hide his disappointment. "So, who, then? Or am I supposed to guess? Because, shockingly, I'm really not in the mood for games." He failed. In him, disappointment tended to come across as anger.
"I am talking about Christian. I just haven't been talking to him. Why would I? The man rui..."
"So, what? Stop messing about, Amira."
She stared at him, incredulous. "It's just that it's a bit difficult for me."
"Sorry," he replied. "It's been... well. You can imagine."
She nodded stiffly. "I'm just going to come out with it." She paused, he wasn't sure if it was meant to keep him hanging to torture him a bit, or she was just struggling with the words. Either way, he wanted to physically shake the words out of her. "Christian's leaving."
That hadn't been what he was expecting. Not that he'd had any expectations at all, but if he had, that would have been at the bottom of the list. It shouldn't have been, of course, but it hadn't even occurred to him that Christian would leave. "What?"
"He's leaving Walford. Tonight."
He stared at her, disbelieving, trying to make sense of her words. "You... he wouldn't... not without saying... where's he… what?"
"I overheard Jane talking to Ian. 'Begged him to stay', Jane was saying. And she kept looking over to me and every time she looked over, her voice got quieter, then she said it wasn't the right place to discuss it and went out. Didn't take a genius to figure it out."
He managed to regain some sense, and saw how hard she was struggling to tell him. "Why are you telling me this?"
He realised she wasn't looking him in the eyes, but over his shoulder, at a fixed point beyond him. He noticed she hadn't looked at him directly once since she'd started speaking to him. Not that he could blame her, exactly, but he noticed. "I hate what you did to me. I'll never forgive you, not ever. But the thing is, I don't hate you. I could never hate you if my life depended on it. And I can't stand to see you miserable."
"Amira..." Syed started, but he had no idea what he wanted to say. He didn't know whether he wanted to apologise to her for the sixtieth time or tell her to leave him alone, because seeing her was stirring up his feelings of guilt and resentment. In the end, he did neither. Instead, he listened to her, something he'd actually spent little time doing. Hearing what she was saying and actually listening were two entirely separate things.
"It's stupid. You know, I should be revelling in your misery. I should be so, so happy that cheating on me ruined your life," she said, blowing an errand hair out of her face. "But I can't. I'm a better person than I thought. Not good enough for you, but still."
He gave her a derisive look. "It had nothing to do with that."
"I just don't have a penis. I know. You know, it's so unfair. I should be able to tell the world what you did to me. How you hurt me. Tell your shameful secret to the whole world. But it would taint me. No good Muslim man would want me. How does that work?"
"You told my family. I think that was enough, don't you?"
She looked affronted for a moment, before she heard the lack of anger or blame in his tone, and the expression on her face melted into a kind of remorse. "I am sorry, Syed. But..."
He shook his head. "Why? You did the right thing."
"It wasn't the right thing. I did it because I was bitter and angry and hurt and I wanted to hurt you back. No matter what you do, it's still wrong without good intentions. You can give to charity, but if you're only doing it to impress your mates? Not the right thing. Telling someone's family that they're gay just to get back at him? I didn't think..."
"It doesn't matter," he insisted, quietly.
"It clearly does. I didn't just hurt you, I hurt your mum and your dad and your brother, too, and that was inexcusable."
"What is this, then? You making it up to me?" he said. "Because, believe me, Amira, if you want to make it up to Mum, Dad and Tamwar, you're going entirely the wrong way about it. Mum'd pay for a flight to Australia if it got him out of the way. So, unless you want to donate to that fund…"
"I'm not making anything up to anyone. I just think you have a right to know. Whatever you choose to do with the information is up to you."
"If Christian had wanted me to know, he would've told me himself, wouldn't he? He obviously doesn't want me... to know."
"Look, Syed, letting the love of your life walk away because you want to please your family. How is that fair? To anyone?"
"Love of my... don't be ridiculous," he replied, his tone falling several notes short of 'incredulous'.
"You don't fool me, Syed," she said. "Not any more. I know you. I know you wouldn't risk losing your family, losing me over the dirty little thing your mother made it out to be."
"This really isn't any of your business," he snapped.
She stood up, raising her hands in defeat. "This is what I get for trying to be nice to my cheating scumbag of an ex-fiancé."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to... Amira, I can't lose my family over anything. Especially not this," he said.
She smiled, sadly. It made his heart hurt to know how badly he'd hurt her. She was putting on a brave face, but he could see how much this was killing her to do. He wanted to tell her to go, it was okay for her to hate him, but he was too selfish to let her go. "I remember something your mum said once. It broke my heart when I thought about it, but... I remember your mother saying to me that she'd never seen you happier than when you were with me. But that wasn't me, was it?"
"You did make me happy," he said. It wasn't exactly the truth, but he didn't want to hurt her more than he already had.
"No, I say that because two weeks later I found out you were having a gay affair with one of my best friends. So, yeah. I don't think it was me," she said. "I think it made you happy to have me. The acceptable face of Islam, the good girl from the mostly-good family who wouldn't dream of having sex before marriage. But, actually being happy with me? That was never on the cards."
"But..."
"Syed, look at it this way. Your family's never going to look at you the same way. You've lost me. They all know. As much as your mother might like to think so, you can't magically turn straight," she said. "So, you can shame them and be happy, and get out of the way, so you're not rubbing their faces in it. Or you can shame them and be miserable and make them all miserable by constantly reminding them of the shame you brought on them."
"I've missed your tactfulness," he replied, affectionately.
She smiled, and, for once, it seemed almost genuine. "You can't argue with facts. Except with lies and that would be pointless," she said. "I think Jane said his train's at six. So. There's three hours warning for you."
He watched her leave. With a sudden realisation, he knew he'd never see her again. He sat there for several minutes, doing nothing but sitting. The sound of the clock seemed to be banging in his ears, in tune with his heartbeat. He could never remember, after, when his mind had been made up. It wasn't like it was an active decision he'd made. He found himself halfway up the stairs before he realised, with an irresistible urge to pack his bags.
February 2012
He finished telling his father what had happened. "I still don't know what I did to deserve it," he said.
"Me either. That girl was too nice for her own good, obviously."
"Yeah," he replied. "I heard she got married, though."
"Your mother was furious," Masood told him, chuckling.
Syed frowned. "Really? Why?"
Masood smiled. "She reckoned there wasn't a sufficient mourning period. Basically, she didn't begrudge Amira moving on, but apparently getting over you that easily was an insult."
He couldn't help but grin. "I was gay and was in love with someone else. What did she want? Amira to dress in a black sackcloth and join a nunnery?"
"Well, for six months, at least."
Syed shook his head, amused. "That woman is unbelievable."
"Yeah, she is," Masood said, rather fondly.
Syed looked at him sideways, slightly discomforted to see an expression he'd often noticed on Christian's face just after he'd just been mocking him. There was a moment of silence, that wasn't precisely uncomfortable, which made a change. One of the few things he and his father had in common was love for 'that woman'.
Masood regarded him a moment. "I was just thinking before, how you were always bad at Geography. Probably because you didn't know how to hold a map the right way up…"
At the non-sequitur, Syed looked at him as if he was losing the plot. "Does… this have a point? Or is it just a really weird way of kicking me when I'm down?"
"Yes. The point is the night before your exam, you were panicking. Because you hadn't revised. Everything else came so easily to you, and this was the one subject you'd always struggled with… but instead of revising that little bit harder, because you were so scared of failing, you avoided it until the last minute, until it was too late and you were past the point of no return."
"This is a really rubbish point, Dad. I got an A in Geography," he reminded him.
"Just because you ended up with the grade you wanted, that doesn't justify the avoidance of the revision…" his father said.
"Can we stop using the National Curriculum as code, please?" Syed replied, annoyed.
"Fine. Just because you and Christian are happy, and you… moving away gave your mother and I some much-needed perspective, it doesn't justify you running away."
"I didn't run away, he was leaving and I…" he started, without much conviction.
"You really couldn't have convinced him to stay?" Masood asked, sceptically. "Even though you were the only reason he was leaving?"
"I didn't want to rub your noses in it," he said, quietly.
"Look at you. Still making excuses a decade later. The reasons might have changed, but you're still the scared little boy who doesn't want to look at his textbook in case he doesn't understand it."
"I'm not trying to excuse anything, Dad. I'm trying to explain. Why do you always assume I'm trying to wriggle off a hook?"
"It's your default setting?" his father replied with false brightness.
"I've changed."
Masood's eyebrows lifted. "Really? That why you're going home tomorrow?"
"I've got a job to get back to. A life to go back to. Some actual happiness to get back to," Syed said. "Don't get me wrong, Dad. Really, I… I love you, all of you, and I miss you so much but…"
"It's easier up there?" he suggested.
He averted his eyes. "Yeah," he admitted quietly.
"This is what I mean, Syed," his father replied, with all traces of anger gone from his voice. "It isn't about the easy thing, it's about the right thing."
Syed lifted his head. "What was the right thing?" he asked, more from curiosity than anything else. As far as he was concerned, his situation had been a catch-22 with no good way out.
"Sticking around, for a start."
Syed shook his head, looking straight ahead, watching a young boy chase after a girl, for a couple of moments, envying their innocence. "And risk everyone finding out? Bushra and her crew? Bring shame on the entire family?" he said. "I… don't know if what I did was right, but… I couldn't live a lie anymore. I couldn't sit there and pretend that everything was going to be okay, that ending things with Christian hadn't broken my heart. I'd done everything Mum had asked of me, I stayed away from him. I got on with my job. But she still looked at me like I disgusted her. You could barely stand to look at me. And every time I saw Amira, I felt so guilty… then I heard Christian was leaving, it was like a switch flipped. The thought of losing him forever, it was… unbearable. I didn't mean to abandon the family, I didn't even think about it properly."
"We would have dealt with it," Masood said.
"I didn't want you to have to deal with it, though. I thought I was sparing you…"
"She cried for days after you left, your mother. She was never the same after. Every time the phone rang, her ears pricked up and she was always disappointed when it wasn't you. I swear, sometimes, she would have found a phone call from Christian a relief."
"With the baby and with Tamwar getting into Oxford, I thought she would have… coped," Syed said. "Better than that, anyway."
"Right, with the baby looking the spitting image of you, and you being missing from all of Tamwar's celebrations. That cheered her right up. Fit as a fiddle, she was."
"It's one thing caring about someone when they're not around. It's totally different. I would have upset her more by being in Walford with Christian. People would have found out…"
"People already know," his dad interrupted.
"People already have their suspicions. I bet they wouldn't dare actually accuse Mum of having reared a gay son," he said. "No-one in Albert Square cares, anyway. But if I'd stayed, people would have talked, and it would've got back to someone whose opinion Mum actually cares about. At least if I was out of the way, and there was no official confirmation of anything, it could stay a rumour."
"You thought that far ahead?" his father asked, disbelievingly.
"Well, no," he admitted. "But it's still true. You made it perfectly clear the family was better off without me, anyway."
"Can you blame me?"
Syed kicked a Coke can that he found under the bench. In the quiet, the sound of it hitting the pavement echoed loudly. "Of course I don't."
"Syed, you're my son… I did miss you. Being around you is not the easiest thing I've ever experienced, admittedly…"
"Then don't worry about it. This time tomorrow, I'll be out of your hair."
"Like I said before, it's not about the easy thing, it's about the right thing."
"And what is 'the right thing'?" Syed asked. 'The right thing' had always been that elusive object that he had never found, not through lack of trying.
"Well, I don't think it's losing all contact with you is it. Do you?"
"You know, there are tons of people who'd disagree with you there."
"I don't think I care," he said. "Look, I don't think… I don't think we're ever going to have an easy relationship. But we've never had an easy relationship, have we?"
"That's an understatement."
"But if you're willing to try, then I am, too. No promises, but… it's something."
Syed smiled broadly. "I can try."
"No more going off for two years with no contact, all right? For a relationship to be worked at, it has to exist," he said. He ran his hands through his hair before continuing, "I just want you to know, Syed, it was never because you were gay."
"I already know."
"Don't get me wrong, I wasn't happy, but it's not something you get a choice in. I just… I just wish that our relationship had been in a condition where you could have told me. I know you could never have told your mother, but I never had a problem with homosexuality, Syed. I could have helped you."
"You were so proud of me for getting married and settling down. I… didn't want to let you down again."
"Like I said, I really wish you could have come to me, regardless."
"I put myself in the position, though, didn't I? By stealing the money. I mean, I know we never had the greatest relationship, but at least you wouldn't have been actively mistrusting me if I hadn't done that."
"You being gay wouldn't have let me down, Syed. You dragging that poor girl into this mess and you lying to us for years, that let me down. If you'd come to me, like a man, and said that you were gay…"
"What would you have done? Patted me on the back and said 'it's okay, son, we'll just get excluded from the community because you like boys'? I couldn't have expected you to do that. I wouldn't have wanted that in a thousand years, no matter how bad it got for me."
"You would at least have had someone to talk to," Masood said.
"I had Christian."
"Yeah, I somehow doubt he had much insight into the subtleties of Islam."
"I'm sure you had tons of insight into homosexuality," he replied. "Dad, I… most of the time, I didn't know where my head was at. I spent years thinking that I wasn't gay, that it was just a phase… a test that God had sent me to strengthen my faith, and I would be rewarded. Except then I was eighteen, then I was twenty, then I was twenty-four and I still didn't like women, nothing had changed, I didn't feel like I was getting anything out of denying it. Then I fell in love with Christian and… it took me completely by surprise. I'd never been in love before, and I didn't know what to do. It was wrong and I knew it, but I couldn't stop. It didn't… it didn't feel wrong. Dad, even if we'd been a different sort of father and son, I don't think I could have explained to you how I was feeling. I was such a mess back then."
"You could have tried to explain it to me. You know, Syed, my record isn't exactly spotless. I understand choosing love over your faith."
Syed managed to force himself to look directly at his father, "Mum?"
"Shockingly enough, falling in love with a married woman is hardly good conduct."
"It's different, though," Syed said, insistently.
"Is it? When it comes down to it, your mother and I chose each other over our culture, over our religion. You did the same," he said. "You just had the good fortune not to have to face the consequences your mother did."
"Good fortune has nothing to do with it. Keeping schtum has. I mean, I know no-one over here's going to set fire to the house or anything, but the community would still… all of us would have to face the consequences. Facing the consequences for something you didn't do seems completely unfair. I mean, Dad, don't you think, in a way, it's best if I stay away for good?"
"Your mother missed you too much. Syed, coming to visit a couple of times a year is hardly going to give you away. Unless you come to events dressed like that bloke out of Little Britain."
"Those are tough conditions, Dad. I'll have to buy some new clothes. I've only got a limited amount of 'Mum-approved clothing'. Two weeks' worth, in fact, " he said, gesturing down at his t-shirt and jeans. "The hot pants will have to go."
His father chuckled. "I mean it. Just come up and see us now and again, for Eid and things. You do still practice Ramadan?"
"Of course I do. What sort of question is that?"
"You're away from home, it wouldn't be surprising…"
"I've done it since before I can remember, I'm hardly going to stop now," he said, feeling like a child being asked if he'd eaten all his vegetables.
"So, old habits die hard?"
Syed shrugged. "In a way, I guess."
"Syed, do you still believe?"
"Honestly? There have been times, where I've doubted… not Allah, but my faith. I sometimes think my faith isn't strong enough, that if I'd tried harder, things would be different. I would be different. But most of the time, my faith is as rock solid as it's always been. Allah made me this way for a purpose, and maybe I figured the purpose out wrong. Maybe I've failed Him. I'm just going to live my life, and let Him judge me when the time comes. In the meanwhile, I'm just going to try to be the best Muslim I can be in every other aspect of my life."
"I think… I think that's all I can ask of you."
"Do you think I have, though? Failed Him?"
"We all have, in different ways. Nobody's perfect, Syed. We've all messed up, committed sins. He understands that."
"But do you think I've seriously messed up? Like one-way ticket to hell messed up?" His voice went quiet at the word 'hell'.
Masood shook his head. "I don't know. Nobody knows but Him."
Syed nodded.
"But, personally, I think that there's a major difference between sinning for the hell of it, and sinning and repenting and trying to make it right and failing at it."
"It's getting dark," Syed said, looking up at the cloudy sky.
"Still scared of it?" Masood asked, jovially.
A memory came back to him. The bulb had burned out in his nightlight, and his mum had been in the hospital having Tamwar. He'd been so terrified, he couldn't move, or call out for help. His father had noticed the complete darkness coming from the room, and had tried to find a bulb to replace it, but couldn't. So he'd come into the room, and told him a story. He couldn't remember the story, now, but his father had stayed with him for ages, telling the same story over and over, until Syed had fallen asleep. He'd never been scared of the dark after that.
"No, someone helped me with that," he replied, smiling.
"I need to get back home."
"Me too."
"Like I said before, you should come to visit."
"I will, I promise."