Page 19 of The Mismatch

Soraya’s phone pinged. They both glanced at it.

‘Magnus, ey?’ Parvin said, snatching Soraya’s phone from the bed.

Soraya smiled. ‘You don’t have my passcode.’ Her smile turned into a frown when she saw Parvin sniggering. ‘What?’ Soraya climbed off the bed and dashed to her sister’s side. ‘Oh my God, how did you get in?’

‘Your passcode is your date of birth.’ Soraya snatched back the phone from her. ‘So …’ Parvin plopped herself onto the mattress. ‘He can’t wait until Friday, apparently.’ Soraya’s cheeks coloured. ‘What’s happening Friday?’

Soraya put a finger to her lips and tiptoed a short distance down the stairs. Seeing that the coast was clear, she went back up and shut the door. ‘Could you be less loud?’

‘Mum went to Lidl, Amir’s in town, and Dad’s two floors down watching TV. Not that he even listens to us when we’re in the same room as him. I’m not stupid.’

Soraya couldn’t help but be paranoid despite Parvin’s words; imprinted in her mind was a memory of her dad telling her he would kill her if she talked to a boy as a teenager.

‘It’s nothing.’

‘Oh, come on, spill.’

‘It’s honestly nothing.’

Parvin gave her a piercing stare. ‘If you say so.’

Soraya opened her mouth, almost said a word, so that a strange groan came out, but then quickly shut it.

‘Huh?’

‘Nothing.’

Parvin raised a perfectly threaded brow. ‘OK … whatever it is, I think you should go for it. You’re only young once.’

Her sister had had numerous long-term boyfriends that she had hidden from the family, even sometimes from Soraya. It would only be when she was going through a break-up that Soraya would learn that Parvin had actually been dating someone for years. She had mastered the art of leading a double life.

Parvin went to look at herself in the full-length mirror. She leant close to it, focused on her face and then her hair. ‘Enjoy your youth and not having grey hair,’ she sighed as she pulled on a few.

The staircase groaned again, but this time under heavy, slow footsteps. Soraya resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the prospect of what was to come.

‘Hello, girls,’ their dad said as he entered the room.

Parvin, still assessing herself in the mirror, said, ‘Hi, Dad.’

Soraya grudgingly said, ‘Hi.’

His face was red and his clothes hung baggily on him. She wondered if he had always been so thin. It was rare that Soraya properly looked at him these days. His presence often filled her with anger, so much so that she refused to settle her gaze on him most of the time. Refused to really look at her dad.

She hadn’t always felt this way about him; once she’d even liked him. But years of hearing her mum’s complaints about him had built a growing resentment towards her dad, and despite telling her mum this, despite knowing exactly where her unhealthy hatred of her dad came from, her mumcontinued to express her frustration with him. And Soraya loved her mum too much to turn her away when she needed to vent; felt her anger viscerally when she complained about her husband. Amir and Parvin dismissed their mum’s complaints, so she had no one else to talk to. She would never tell her friends, not even her best friend Mena; her pride was too great.

But looking at him now, Soraya felt pity. His grey T-shirt had a tomato ketchup stain on it, and small holes in the bottom hem. Where did the holes even come from? And when was the last time he had changed his clothes? Her mum had once said he was a handsome man, that all her friends were secretly jealous she had married a one-time professional footballer.

‘Do we have any food in the house?’ their dad asked, giving a toothless grin. He had forgotten to put his false teeth back in.

And then any sympathy she’d briefly felt for him completely disappeared. She hadn’t expected much. But as usual, her low expectations were met with an even lower outcome. This was the first time he’d seen her since she’d come home. He’d given her no ‘Congratulations’, made no mention at all of her graduating. No apologies about him not attending her graduation ceremony, no explanation. Nothing.

Instead, he asked if there was any food in the house, a hint for someone to make him something.

‘I don’t know, why don’t you look?’ Soraya said. She was bolder because it was clear he was in good spirits today.

Soraya knew just how to approach him depending on his various moods. Now his eyes were wild, his movements shaky, erratic, his voice loud and excited. In this mood he would happily take sarcastic comments and frowns; might even throw money at his children in an attempt to get them onside.

Sensing the situation, Parvin said, ‘Dad, we have some oven pizzas in the fridge. I could put one in for you?’ Despite living in this house for decades, he still didn’t know how to work the oven. Or didn’t want to know. Didn’t think he needed to.