This is from Syed's POV. It's the day of the "the thought of being physically initmate with her, makes me feel sick" convo. Oh happy days.
~s~c~
'Amira, there's something you don't know…'
There. I've started it now. Finally. I don't care what Mum has to say, I will tell Amira the truth. Right now.
'Shut up Syed,' Mum hisses at me.
How did I ever think she was going to understand? Understand me? She's disgusted with me, I can tell by the way she tries to avoid me, avoid being alone with me. I won't ever be allowed to count on her support, unless I start acting like the loving, obedient, straight son she wants me to be. Well tough. That just isn't going to happen.
'She needs to know,' I say. I won't let her manipulate me again. I should never have gone through with the wedding at her insistence, but it's too late to do anything about that now. But this? This I can do. It is the very least that Amira deserves. That I deserve.
'We'll talk about it later Pappu,' she says.
The simple words hit me like a fist to my gut. I'm in shock. How does she do that? She knows exactly what buttons to push, doesn't she… Right when I think it's hopeless, that she'll never…
She hasn't called me Pappu since before the wedding and we both know it. And even though I'm well aware of the fact that she's only doing it now to manipulate me… It doesn't matter. Or it does, but it still gets to me. She still said it. And if there's only the slightest bit of hope that she will forgive me some day, look at me with love instead of disgust and disappointment…
I have to think about this. I have to…
'I'm going to work,' I manage, before running out the door.
I walk the streets, not seeing or hearing anything that goes on around me. I don't go into work just yet. I need to clear my head a bit first. My feet move as if of their own accord. I just follow along, walking with fast, urgent paces. My brain is frantically buzzing in my head, like it has been for days now. So close… I was so close just now to telling Amira. Admitting to her why I wouldn't, couldn't sleep with her. My heart is still racing with the thought of it. And now that I haven't, I don't know what to do with all this nervous energy that has built up inside me.
I think I must have passed the door to the unit at least three times in my wandering before I give up and actually go in.
I numb myself with the everyday, mundane activities of chopping, cleaning, dicing… I take some pleasure in the pounding of the meat, hammering down a bit more harshly then strictly required.
I'm trying to identify what I'm feeling. I'm angry at Mum, for stopping me from spilling the truth, for manipulating me yet again. I'm frustrated with myself for wanting to believe her, for letting her have this power over me. I'm desperate because I don't know what to do now.
I can't make my marriage work, because I can't stand the idea of having to touch my own wife. There's no way I'll be able to avoid Amira for much longer. My eyes involuntarily go to the door that lead into the tiny office. Amira made her most blatant move yet there just a couple of days ago. I squirm as I think of how she was waiting for me. I know I've upset her, but I'm too messed up to really care about that. She's obviously getting impatient and why wouldn't she be? We've been married for over a month now for God's sake. And if I listen to Mum… If I don't tell Amira the truth about me, than what exactly am I going to do?
'Hi'.
I turn around before I can stop myself. I didn't hear him come in over the noise I'm making.
'Christian. What are you doing here?' I say.
In my effort to control my voice, to stifle my surprise, I think I sound a bit hostile. From the way he looks at me, he agrees.
'Jane asked me to pick up the books,' he answers.
Within a few seconds, his piercing stare becomes too much for me. I turn back to the counter and pick up the hammer again.
'You know where to find them,' I say, trying to sound indifferent.
He doesn't answer me, but I hear him make his way to the office. Different memories flash before me now. Memories of want, of heat, laughter, pleasure… I wince as I feel my nails almost pierce the skin of my hand as I clench my fist around the hammer. I quickly release the fist I didn't know I was making, lightening my grip on the hammer and hesitantly start pounding again.
If I do tell Amira the truth, then what? My heart aches as I remember that Christian won't be waiting for me. He's with that bloke now, his boyfriend, he called him. Mum will most certainly force me out, my Dad, God I don't even want to think about that… I'd have nothing… Not my family, not a wife, not the promise of children… And not the man I love. Or at least I don't think so…
What choice do I really have? I don't trust the gesture Mum made, don't know how far she's willing to go… But if there's a chance? Shouldn't I…
'Right, well that's me off'.
Yes, I think. Go.
'Be careful or you might lose a finger' he continues.
I sigh. Why doesn't he just leave? Go back to his… boyfriend.
'I know what I'm doing,' I bite back.
Well that's a lie. I have absolutely no idea what the fuck I'm doing. I need to make my mind up and for that to happen I need him to leave.
'Sy, I don't mean to interfere…'
'Well don't then. Go away,' I interrupt him.
Saying it aloud suddenly makes it different. As the words leave my mouth, I can feel the horrible untruth of them. I don't want him to go. In fact, that's the very opposite of what I want. I want to hide in his arms and feel his protective embrace around me. I want him to make me stop thinking. To make me forget the pressure of Mum's manipulations, Amira's expectations… Forget everything but me and him, right now, right here. Just forget…
'There's something I wanted to tell you…' he begins.
Oh God no. I can't listen to this. I don't want to hear about how he's moved on and doesn't need me anymore. Not when I…
'Not interested' I say.
Liar, I think. I still don't dare turn around. He knows me too well. If I give him a chance to look at me…
The tension is almost palpable. I'm not sure what to do. Christian doesn't say anything, but he doesn't appear to be leaving either.
And then my phone rings. I don't have to look at it to know who it's going to be. It's either Mum or Amira and I'm in no mood to talk to either. Especially not in front of him.
'You going to answer that?' he asks.
I want to growl with frustration. His voice is too soft, to kind, too full of understanding… I turn around and say: 'Look you don't even work here anymore. Why are you hanging around?'
'I'm not an idiot Syed. I can tell when you're upset'.
'Yeah well I don't want your pity,' I say, facing away from him once again.
'Well that's good,' he replies. 'Because it wasn't pity I was offering. How about concern'.
'That too,' I say flatly.
'I thought we were friends. Don't friends care for each other?'
I sigh. Am I supposed to believe that? I don't think so. At least my phone has stopped ringing…
'Scrap pity, insert gloating,' I say accusingly. Alright, so that might be a bit much. I know he isn't gloating. But the thought of me trapped in this impossible, miserable, hopeless situation, while he's all happy with his new boyfriend? No. No I don't think I can bear that.
'Who's gloating?' he asks, sounding hurt.
The twinge of guilt that I feel irritates me, but not as much as the sound of the office phone. I twist my head to look at the office. Should I answer it? I'm pretty sure it's Mum, and I don't want to talk to her. But what if it's not?
'Could be a client,' Christian says.
Yes I know that, thank you. Ugh, I give up. I pull the ridiculous cap off my head and stalk into the office to answer the blasted phone.
Mum. Of course it is…
She talks to me, talks at me about having a child now. This feels surreal. I'm on the phone with my Mum, talking about starting a family, not even an hour after telling her that the thought of being physically intimate with my wife makes me feel sick. Meanwhile, Christian has followed me into the office and I can feel his eyes boring a hole into my back.
'Look I know you've had a sheltered upbringing Mum, but you really should know that there are certain things you need to do before you can have a baby!' I tell her. And Christian. I tell Christian too. I pretend to myself that I'm not thinking about him when I say it, that he won't know what I mean, but it's no use. I want him to know. As to why? I don't really know.
That's it, isn't it… I just don't know any more… All I see is impossibilities. I can't be the husband Amira deserves, can't be the son my Mum expects me to be, but I can't be the man Christian wants me to be either. What can I do? What am I supposed to do?
Mum doesn't respond of course. She's already decided how it's going to be, and my objections are no more than a tiny inconvenience to her. Just another obstacle to overcome. She expects me to fall in line, do as she says and not to argue. And I resent her for that.
She asks me to promise to go along with her story, back her up to Amira. But I refuse. I hang up the phone and turn around to face Christian. I have to get him out of here. Before I fall apart.
What am I to do? What can I do? What…
~s~c~
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