Page 26 of The Mismatch

Of the two men she’d received offers from, one vehemently did not believe in Allah and the other was twenty years her senior. They both approached her baba directly, and he made his disapproval of them very much known, which was a relief to Neda. The proposals went nowhere quickly.

Eventually, she began asking Hossein questions.

‘How many siblings do you have?’

‘Three sisters, no brothers. I always wanted a brother, it would have made it easier when my baba, you know …’ He looked uncomfortable when he spoke about his father. He had died in a car accident two years ago.

‘He’s with Allah now, be assured of that,’ Neda said.

Hossein muttered a prayer before taking some tokhmeh from a bowl.

She learnt that he had played football professionally, but during a collision with another player had sustained a double compound fracture of his left shin. Following the incident he was unable to play again.

‘Thank Allah, I’m able to walk, and even play friendly matches with my friends,’ he had said when he first told her. ‘I’m very lucky.’

He walked with a slight limp, and it was more pronounced when he walked quickly.

She also discovered he studied sports science, which explained why she hadn’t seen him in the labs.

Despite their increasing closeness, she said nothing of Hossein to her parents. They were already busy with their nine other children; she didn’t want to concern them with no-news.

Peeling potatoes in the kitchen one evening, one of Neda’s younger sisters, Rabeh, whispered in her ear, ‘I’ve heard about you and that footballer.’

‘What?’ Neda hissed, looking around.

Her brothers were all in the living room, smoking and playing card games with their dad. Her eldest four siblings, two brothers and two sisters, were already married and moved out. Neda was next.

She was conflicted about what she wanted. She felt an increasing obligation to relieve the family of their financial worries. But she also wanted more time, was frightened of change whilst also longing for it. Her opinion on the matter changed every day.

‘People talk,’ Rabeh said. ‘Are you not going to tell Maman and Baba?’

‘Nothing has happened, we’ve not really spoken seriously.’ Neda was on edge. ‘Go put the samovar on.’

Rabeh complied and began preparing the chai.

‘Listen,’ Neda said. ‘It’s important you don’t say anything to Maman or Baba until it’s official,ifit’s ever official.’

‘Why do you want to lie to our parents?’ When Rabeh spoke Neda noticed a bit of tokhmeh stuck in her teeth, which added to her annoyance. ‘I thought you were meant to be the pious one.’

Neda made a noise deep in her throat and quickly told her, ‘Oh, shut up and peel the potatoes, then.’

After dinner, when everyone was asleep on the floor in the living room, Rabeh came over to Neda and attempted to rest her head against her chest. But Neda pushed her away.

‘What?’ Rabeh said.

‘I was serious before,’ Neda said.

She could hear her sister exhale sharply. ‘You’re always serious, sister.’

Neda turned away from her, closing her eyes.

The only light in the room came from the streetlights filtering through the crack in the curtains. That evening a sense of dread crept its way into her belly, and she struggled to shake it off.

She felt she should cherish these moments, falling asleep amongst her family. They struggled, but they stuck together and everything worked out OK. Allah was watching them. It was a comforting feeling, like eating a large bowl of steaming rice after a long day. Despite their house being shabby, only having one toilet between eight of them, and the cockroaches that regularly emerged from the cracks in the floors, it was home. She often daydreamed about being a child again, and envied her youngest sibling Zahra for having more years to enjoy being young and free.

So as she lay awake that night Neda tried to appreciate the things she ordinarily wouldn’t have. The familiar hum of the fridge, her dad’s loud snores, her younger siblings creeping over to her in the night for a cuddle, the laughs they had before lights out, all of them chatting, playing games, makingfun of each other. Soon all of this would be over; her childhood would be over.

And then she felt crazy; she was twenty-one years old, her childhood already technically long gone. It was over when she had her first period, eight years ago. And perhaps, she thought, the next step in life would be even better, exciting even. That was if Rabeh kept her mouth shut.