Page 115 of The Mismatch

‘You act like you’re really innocent, but what did you think was going to happen when we went back to mine?’

She sighed and put more space between them. How could she explain the unexplainable?

‘It doesn’t make sense to me either. I just don’t feel comfortable right now.’

‘Why? You were with that guy for months, and there were rumours going round that you …’

Soraya’s heart skipped a beat. The words acted like a heavy weight deep inside her stomach. ‘What?’

‘Oh, come on. He’s a man slut,’ laughed Jacob. ‘You guys were fuck buddies or something, right? What, you’ll fuck him but not me?’

She couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

‘Stop acting like a child.’

‘Tell me, did you drop to your knees on the first date with him? Or were you frigid with him too? Was alcohol a must to loosen you up?’

She was speechless. There was a long silence. When she felt steady enough she picked up her bag and went to walk down the stairs.

‘Listen, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to … I don’t know, forget it,’ Jacob mumbled.

She was halfway down the stairs when rage fired up inside her. She stomped back up to his room and looked him in the eyes. ‘What the fuck? “Forget it”? I’m so sick of men like you treating me like dirt. So fucking sick of it. I changed my mind and I didn’t want to have sex with you – it’s not hard to understand.’ She ran back down the stairs.

It was only when she was outside his house, in the quiet street, that she realised she was crying.

The next day she didn’t go into detail with Oliver about why the date was bad. She felt ashamed on too many levels and wanted to forget the whole evening. It seemed she was losing her faith piece by piece, and didn’t know how to get it back. The only thing she was doing right, she felt, was to believe in God. But everything else she did was wrong, so wrong.

If she tried to talk about her guilt in being a non-practising Muslim to Oliver, he’d say she was the most moral person he knew, and that it didn’t matter she wasn’t practising, so long as she was a good person. That point of view comforted her but also gave her nothing. If the person she was talking to was an atheist, of course to them it wouldn’t seem a big deal.

If she tried to talk about it to her mum, she’d encourage her to pray, marry a nice Muslim man, wear a hijab, and insinuate, because she pretended not to know, that Soraya should stop drinking and wearing revealing clothes. And she didn’t want to do that. She wanted a middle ground that didn’t exist, would never exist. She wanted to feel connected to God, be reassured that everything was happening for a reason, and be given guidance on how to be a better person.But did that mean she had to be told how to dress? And who did her romantic relationships affect, other than herself? Perhaps, she realised, that was the point. Perhaps she needed to acknowledge that she mattered and didn’t deserve any more pain. She needed to protect herself because no one else could.

Soraya deleted Tinder.

CHAPTER 55

Neda

Brighton, 2015

Without Hossein the house was clean, homely even, though Neda felt bad for thinking that. The cushions on the sofa were in place and the floor was clear of pistachio shells. The house smelt of nothing in particular, a pleasant change from the BO that followed her husband around.

Whilst her children seemed to cope with his absence, Tyzer seemed to struggle the most without him. He sat by the patio door, waiting for hours at a time, until tiredness or hunger took over and he momentarily forgot who his owner was at the lure of a sachet of Whiskas or a warm bed.

Now that the secret was out in the open Neda reached out to Laleh and suggested she come to the house for the first time in over fifteen years.

I’d love it if you came, she had written.

I’ll think about it, Laleh replied.

She couldn’t blame her daughter for her reluctance to come back to the family who had rejected her when she needed them the most, but how else was Neda meant to make it up to her? Her optimistic nature meant she couldn’t believe it was too late. She had to try, even if she knew she didn’t deserve a second chance.

**

‘What’s really wrong, Soraya?’ she asked her youngest daughter.

They were at the M&S cafe. It was that time of year when the excitement of Christmas was over and everyone was waiting for the arrival of spring and sunlight.

Despite being bundled up in multiple layers and a faux-fur coat, Soraya’s teeth were chattering as they walked from the carpark to the store. It worried Neda – it was cold, but it wasn’tthatcold. She noticed how gaunt her daughter’s face had become, how her stomach had flattened out, how thin and frail her wrists looked.