Page 25 of The Mismatch

‘It’s my pleasure. What’s your name? I seem to see you everywhere.’

Neda’s friend sitting next to her peered at the box of treats, desperate for a snack to go with her chai.

‘I’m Neda.’ She felt her cheeks colouring under the attention.

‘I’m Hossein, nice to meet you.’ And then he continued the rounds.

‘See,’ the woman next to her hissed. ‘We told you he likes you. He played football professionally, you know.’ Eyebrows were raised.

‘No! Not professionally?’ They gave her knowing looks. Iranians liked to exaggerate but all the same … afootballer. Neda wondered if her dad would approve, wondered what Hossein’s family were like … She forced herself to snap out of it. There were more important things in life than worrying about men, besides the small fact that he hadn’t even shown any real interest, let alone serious interest.

And would he – or any man for that matter – support her wish to continue studying? For her to work and not be made to look after the house? She knew even the more modern men these days were not quite comfortable with their wives working, and she could never give up her studies.

When they went back to the university lab, where Neda studied biomedicine, she knocked over a vial and it smashed on the floor.

‘Something orsomeoneon your mind?’ one of the girls asked. The others cackled.

Neda rolled her eyes. As she cleaned up the glass with a dustpan and brush, she wondered what Hossein studied. She had never seen him or any of his friends working in the lab. And when her friend said he ‘played’ football professionally,did that mean he no longer did? Did he give it up to go to university?

‘Shanauz,’ Neda said, when she found her on her own in one corner of the room. ‘What do you know about Hossein?’

Shanauz smiled, put down the glass in her hand, and drummed her fingers on the countertop. ‘Oh, now you care.’

‘Come on, I’m just curious, you know me …’

‘Yes. That you actually love a gossip.’

Neda smiled. ‘He seems to be everywhere lately.’

Shanauz pushed her fringe out of her face. Her hair was thick, with choppy layers; eyes smoky, lined with kohl. Neda wished she knew how to do her make-up like that, without being laughed at by Maman.

‘He studies sports something or other and I think he got here on a scholarship. Though, if you ask me, his parents must be rich. Have you seen the clothes he wears? Always brands: Adidas, Puma, Levis …’

‘I don’t care about money, is hegood?’ Neda’s eyes were worried, her lips tight with concern, and she wasn’t quite sure why.

‘He went around and distributed shirini to us when he really didn’t have to,’ her friend said. ‘I’ve never seen my baba do anything like that for my maman. Hossein seems like a modern man.’

Neda remembered his smile, the floppy hair covering his face. She smiled at the memory, before pulling herself out of it and getting back to work.

Weeks passed with other similar encounters, and each time he asked her more about herself. In their new routine, Hossein and his friends would join her friends during their breaks. The men always provided the group with shirini to go with their hot drinks, a fact Neda had noticed beginning to show on her waistline.

‘What do you want to do after university?’ he once asked her.

‘I’d like to work for a while, complete a Master’s, get a PhD maybe.’ She wanted to see his reaction, expecting him to back away, realising talking to her had been a mistake. Instead he nodded, impressed.

‘You’d suit being a doctor,’ he said, reassuring her of something she realised she had been doubting. ‘I bet you have many suitors.’ This comment surprised her.

‘Not particularly.’

‘That’s a yes then?’ he said, peeking up at her as he sipped his coffee. She noticed he had strong hands, the veins pronounced, and the hair on his arms was dark. It was the first time she had observed a member of the opposite sex in such a way, and she imagined what it would feel like for him to hold her hand, found herself longing for him to do so.

She pinched her leg under the table.

Despite sitting in the coffeehouse with their friends, they had angled their bodies away from them and towards each other, so Neda could imagine they were having coffee alone. However, she still wanted their meetings to be somewhat halal with chaperones present, and having her friends close by was a comfort to her.

‘I’ve had two offers,’ she said slowly. ‘But neither was quite right.’

‘I’m not surprised. You’re very beautiful and intelligent,’ he said. ‘You’re blushing! Don’t worry we can change the subject.’ He gave a soft laugh, which made her blush even more. When he laughed he had a perfect dimple in each cheek.