Christian took a big swig of his pint, and turned his face towards her, the tears he so resolutely wiped away now rolling down his face. He told her what had happened.
"He's with the guy now. Farhan. And maybe he won't come home, Roxy."
He downed hi s pint and ordered another, and tears were pursued by anger.
"Maybe he'll stay with this guy... and the Massods will forgive him because, at least he's with a Muslim, and not some heathen."
Roxy shook her head and laid a hand on Christian's arm.
"Christian, you are so better off without him. I mean, what do you see in him anyway. He's no fun, and when you are with him, you're no fun. All he does is moan and drink orange juice. You could do so much better, I mean look at you. And leaving that aside, you're back in that terrible place you spent most of the past year in. Miserable. And all because of him. Let him go."
Christian slammed his drink down on the bar.
" You just don't get it, do you? Phff, just piss off and leave me alone. Why the fuck do I talk to you?"
Christian tore her hand from his arm and went to stand, but she stilled him and said,
"Okay, so tell me. What is it about him, because honestly, Christian, you two are so star-crossed that you exist in different galaxies. I want to understand. So tell me."
"" He was my friend, we were friends first. That was new for me, too. We were mates, we had a laugh, worked together. We liked each other. That maybe also have been new. The first time we kissed, the first time we made love, oh babe, it was magic. Our lovemaking, it was beautiful. His eyes , his hair, his body, all of him, just beautiful."
"Okay, okay, so you fancy him. Haven't you ever fancied anyone else?"
"Not like this, Roxy, not like this."
"All right, so you lust after him, but what do you talk about? What on earth do you two find to talk about? I mean, come on Christian."
"Syed is funny, really funny, does this kind of deadpan humour with a twinkle in his eye. We laugh alot. We argue about politics – he's so conservative, and me, I'm Labour all the way. He reads alot and tells me about what he is reading. We talk about our lives, we dream about our futures, we sit and hold hands and watch DVDs. I show him how to exercise and he demonstrates his massage techniques on me. And there's his religion. He thinks about God, and death, and what it means to be a good person, and what it means to be a Muslim in England today. I learn so much from him. He gives me the gift of himself. And I haven't begun to know all that is there within in. He's sweet, and he's gentle and kind, but he can also be angry, jealous, a human being like all of us. He needs me, to take care of him, protect him, and let the world in on him and then shut it out when it is too much for him. And for that, I get back love and that way he looks at me, like I am the most important thing in the whole world. That's what he said to me in front of his brother. He calls me his superman and with him, I feel like I could leap tall buildings. I love him, Roxy. And maybe we should wonder what he sees in me. And I am sick of everyone telling me that I could do so much better, that we are mismatched. "
"Ah babe. " Roxy wrapped her arms around the sobbing Christian and held him until he sighed and pulled back from her.
"I'm all right. Thanks. He's with Farhan now. That guy. And I feel like my heart is being torn out yet again. I don't know if I can go through that all over again."
He glanced at his still empty mobile screen, then laid back into the seat, as if he wished he could become one with him. He shut his eyes and let the noise roll around him, and imagined himself back at home, cuddling and fucking his lover. He sighed once more and then let his eyes and his head and his heart rest there for awhile.
Meanwhile, a couple of miles away, Syed sat in a cafe and waited for Farhan. He ordered a coffee and began doodling on the napkin. And then, pen in mouth, an idea occurred and he began scribbling things down in two neat columns.
"Hi, Syed, As-Salāmu `Alaykum."
"As-Salāmu `Alaykum, Farhan."
"Let me get you a coffee."
"All right. Thanks. I'll have a cappuccino."
Syed went and got the cappuccino, and placed it in front of Farhan. He tried to catch Syed's eyes, coax a smile, but Syed squirmed and gave his eyes permission to dart around the cafe.
"Listen, I know you were upset and I didn't want to leave it like that last night. I'm sorry if I came on to you after you told me you were with someone, but you didn't say no and I like you, Syed, and I want to get to know you better. I think we would be good together. This guy, Christian, you say you love him, but what do you really have together? He likes to drink, way too much, and go out with his girlfriend while you sit at home, and dance and get hammered. He thinks life is a laugh. He worries about his body, but not about his soul. What life can you have with him? Isn't being gay hard enough as a Muslim? You and I, we have so much more in common. Please, Syed, give us a chance."
Syed was too polite, too tired, to be angry. He just sat there staring at the paper napkin for a long time, and then looked up and into Farhan's eyes. Farhan cupped his fingers around Syed's thumb, a move designed to be both suggestive and romantic, but Syed drew his hand back and away and rubbed his thumb on his trousers.
"You speak about him, but you don't know him. You know nothing about him or about us. You're right. He drinks and sometimes too much, and when he's with Roxy and drunk, he's childish and silly. And no, he is not a Muslim, not religious at all. I made a list, like my mother told me to make when I had to choose between two things. So here it is, Farhan, the ticks in 'your' column. Muslim, tick. Pakistani family, tick. University graduate, tick. Non-drinker, tick. Loves to read, tick. Loves galleries, tick. Hates clubs and pubs, tick. If we were on . com, we'd be perfect. Tick all the right boxes."
"And in Christian's column?"
Syed exhaled and regarded Farhan in silence before he responded.
"In Christian's column. One word. Love. I love him,he makes my heart stop. Even when I am angry with him, I look at him and my whole being is filled with love for him. I adore him. And you don't do that to me. Not when we kissed, not when you touched me now, you do not take my breath away. He does."
"And out of bed?" Farhan sneered.
"That's not about bed, Farhan. But we talk all the time, about our pasts, about our future. We dream together. We go out and laugh. He's loud, out there, the life of the party, fun and funny. He reads the papers and argues about the country with me. He's kind, the best friend anyone could have, and cares for everyone in his life. He is loyal, and he loves me, and wants nothing more than to make me happy. He is patient and good, and even if he doesn't believe in God, I know Allah would be happy with the person he is. And yes, Farhan, he is gorgeous and takes pride in that, and loves to help others become as gorgeous as they can be. He's not greedy and he's not ambitious in the way that some of us can be. He just wants to do some good in life and make enough money to be comfortable. He is my superman and I gave up everything for him, because he is everything to me. "
Farhan smiled ruefully at Syed and shrugged his shoulders.
"And last night?"
"I don't know what happened last night. Today is the anniversary of my wedding, a year since I said aloud that I was gay, to him, to my mother, and most of all, to myself. I stopped pretending that day that I was able to marry and put this aside, that it wasn't who I was, but it took me another 6 months to be true to it and to myself, and to give him, Christian, what he wanted and waited for, what had been his for a year. Me. I, I guess I was very needy. I'm sorry, Farhan, I didn't mean to use you. I really like you. But not like that. And if you can forgive me, I would love to have you as my friend. I need a friend, someone from my own world who is like me and who can maybe understand my family and my community and what Allah wants of me."
Syed pulled his lip in and waited, head cocked, willing him to forgive him and fill the one gap that he had in his life. A friend from his world. Farhan studied his hands for a moment, then looked up, nodded and smiled.
" There's nothing to forgive. And yes, Syed, I can do that. I can be your friend and one day, maybe his friend too. He's lucky to have you."
"No. I'm the lucky one."
"Let's go to mosque. It's nearly time for asr".
They stood and hugged each other and then went across to the mosque. Syed prayed hard to Allah that afternoon. Farhan might have forgiven him, but now he needed to beg forgiveness from Allah. He prostrated himself and contemplated who he had been and all that he wanted to become.
'Am I a cheat? How can I atone for all the hurt I have caused. And why am I still causing hurt.'
He prayed and wept, asked for Tawbah and Istighfar, and pledged to Allah that he would be different, that the Syed who lied and cheated would no longer master him. After his prayers, he felt the calm that had eluded him for days, and he rose and found Farhan. He told him that he would phone and get together with him soon, but that he needed to go home now.
Christian, will you meet me at home in 15 minutes?
Nothing, nothing, nothing, he was almost home, when the reply came.
Be there in a minute.
He went in, tossed his jacket over a chair, and sat on the settee to wait.
