Page 104 of The Mismatch

He was cut off when their dad pushed him. Despite the disadvantage of being in bed at the time, the shove he gave his son caused Amir to stumble against the wardrobe behind him.

The room was fairly small, all four of them in the space was a squeeze. Due to Amir’s size, the impact of his back hitting the wardrobe made it shudder, a tremendous sound echoing round the house – or maybe Soraya imagined that. The impact her dad made on his victims always felt disproportionate to what actually happened.

‘You shut up! Fuck off out of this house if you think you can talk to me like that.’

Their mum stepped in then. She brought herself closer to her husband, a look of disgust on her face. Her index finger was raised, shakily, in front of her. It was a very Iranian movement, Soraya thought. She had only ever seen such passionate gestures from her parents or relatives. Her mother’s bent finger, the power in it, the tension palpable. Shewasn’t just pointing at her husband, she was finally emancipating herself from him.

‘You bastard!’ she cried, her voice cracking.

Soraya’s dad stood up then, discarding the duvet, seizing the opportunity to tower over his wife, as he had done for over thirty years.

‘What did you say?’ he demanded in Farsi, his lip curled. Amir hung back cautiously. Soraya was torn between running in front of her mother, and running away from them all.

‘I said, you’re a fucking cheating bastard!’ her mum roared.

‘I said, it wasn’t me—’ he continued.

‘Oh, come on, Dad,’ Amir interjected. ‘Just stop. Tell the truth. It’s bad enough you’ve done this, but to use my pictures? You’ve taken it too far. Have some respect – for Mum at least.’

‘She probably made the profile herself! She loves the drama!’

Soraya’s mouth opened involuntarily, and despite forcing herself to pipe down, she still made a sound. It was enough to make her dad look at her. This was the first time he’d really looked at her since striking her weeks ago.

The sight of his puffy red face disgusted her. She looked down at her bare toes. Noticed the chipped baby pink nail varnish on her big toe. Pondered, despite the gravity of the situation, when she would have time to repaint it, and if she had any nail varnish remover in Brighton. It was uncanny that in dire situations, situations in which she was fearful, her brain still had the capacity to think mundane thoughts.

‘What?Youhave something to say?’ His voice was venomous. ‘You?’

Soraya resisted the urge to run away. There was protection in her being with so many people, and especially with Amir. Despite often behaving unfairly to her, he would always protect her against others. It was a fine balance; he would hurt anyone who did anythinghedeemed detrimental to her – for example, a boyfriend. Meaning she didn’t always feel safe around him, because he could come to ruin the things she held dear, thinking he was saving her.

But in this case, she felt safe with him there.

‘Stop lying to us, we’re not stupid.’ The words that came out of her mouth were spoken quietly, and yet it seemed the whole room was holding its breath, waiting for her to challenge their father.

‘What did you say?’ he yelled.

Sometimes he resembled a wild dog, she thought, desperate both for attention and to cause disturbance. It was innate, too ingrained in his being, to be considered a reaction. It was just him.

But what would happen if the people around him, for once, didn’t back down?

Soraya imagined him exploding like a defeated villain in a game. But this, sadly, was no game. He was her father, and despite everything she couldn’t ignore that. It made the pain of it worse.

‘You heard me,’ she said, still speaking quietly. She could hear her heart beating wildly in her chest, was convinced everyone around her could hear it too. ‘We’re always walkingon eggshells around you, but enough is enough. You’ve been a shit dad, and a shit husband, and it’s not OK. None of this is OK.’

There was a momentary calm before the storm.

But then he surprised her. Instead of hitting someone – or her – as she had expected, he pushed past them and stormed down the stairs, his footsteps heavy against the floorboards.

She wanted to scream, hit the wall, stomp her foot, break something, anything. He never reacted the way she wanted him to; he was incapable of normal human responses.

The look on Amir’s face reduced her to tears. Pure disappointment. For Hossein to disappoint Soraya was one thing, but it spoke something of the damage he had now caused if her brother, who idolised their dad, was disappointed in him too.

Then she looked at her mum. She’d expected her to be similarly affected, to be crying or angry. Instead, she was laughing.

Soraya’s arms prickled with goosebumps. An urgent feeling of dread crept into the pit of her belly.

Her mum began cackling with loud and raucous laughter. ‘That bastard,’ she said, struggling to breathe. Both of her children looked at her, speechless.

She left the room then, laughing all the way down the stairs.