Page 31 of The Mismatch

Another day, another round of chai. Except in Neda’s case she needed something a lot stronger. She had an exam at the end of the month and had been in the lab since 6 a.m. The bags under her eyes were pulling her to the ground. After her melancholy moment, she realised her dad’s snoring all night was simply annoying. And after waking up so early, she needed an endless supply of strong coffee.

Whilst her friends popped a sugar cube in their mouth before taking leisurely sips of chai, Neda swallowed bitter espresso.

Hossein sat by her side but seemed to be avoiding looking at her. He wasn’t as chatty as usual. Instead he was tearing bits off a newspaper and rolling them up. It was like he wasn’t aware of what he was doing and the mess he was making.

Neda sat very straight on the wooden chair, half in conversation with her friends and half willing Hossein to say something,anything.

It was an excruciating couple of minutes before finally he presented her with a folded piece of paper. She lookedup at him and there was a very small smile on his mouth. His large brown eyes, however, were sad, perhaps even scared.

‘Hossein, where are the shirini?’ his friend asked.

‘Oh!’ he said, theatrically hitting his forehead with his hand. ‘I forgot to collect them.’ He turned to Neda. ‘I’ll be back.’ They were sitting upstairs and he walked down to the cafe counter on the ground floor. He wore his long-sleeved Adidas T-shirt pulled down to cover his hands, something Neda herself did when she felt self-conscious.

Her friends were chatting cluelessly, giggling at the jokes the men made, some of them arguing with each other. One friend believed women were better than men and often liked to demonstrate this in conversation.

‘Men are stronger, you cannot deny that, azizam,’ one young man was saying.

‘Oh, really?’ her friend began, drawing breath. ‘Why is it then that we are working in a laboratory, will go on to make medical discoveries, while you are … what? Playing with a ball outside? Studying people kicking a football?’ There was a ripple of laughter, and Neda had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling.

‘If a woman was running the country, you’d see, we would be modernandcare about those less fortunate than ourselves. Men can’t multitask. Look at the Shah …’

This caused a debate between the group over the government, no longer dividing according to their sex but following the opinions of their respective class and religion.

Neda suddenly remembered the folded piece of paper in her hand. She opened it up, and written in red pen were the words:

Dear Neda, will you marry me?

Shanauz noticed her sitting very still, staring at the paper with all the weight it carried.

‘What is it?’ she asked, taking it from her friend’s hand. When she read the words she yelled in surprise. People turned to look at them. ‘Sorry, sorry, it’s nothing.’ She turned to Neda and whispered, ‘What did you say back?’

‘He went to get shirini from downstairs, I haven’t been able to say anything!’

Shanauz clapped her hands together. ‘I knew it – I just knew it! I always get these things right.’ In that moment she looked like the Cheshire Cat, her joy greater than her friend’s.

Though Neda was pleased, her heart seemed to beat too quickly, and she thought there must be a mistake. He was so beautiful that she couldn’t believe he felt the same way about her. Remembering how nervous Hossein had been, though, made her feel powerful and important. Her response mattered to him.Shemattered to him.

She knew she must marry eventually, and realised she wanted it to be to Hossein, whom she found unbelievably attractive and intriguing. She didn’t think he’d ever not surprise and amaze her.

When he came back to the table with a box in his hand, his friends surrounded him, keen to get a sugary pastry to go with their tea. He peeked up at Neda across the table and she smiled at him, nodding slightly. He smiled back, realising what this meant.

Later, when he had the chance to sit next to her, they discussed how he had to ask her dad first, before anything could be done. She knew her maman would jump at the idea of her marrying Hossein; it didn’t matter who the suitor was as long as it meant one less child to feed at home. Not for the first time she wished her own mother cared more about her, wondered what that would feel like.

‘Of course I will ask him. I just can’t believe you said yes,’ Hossein told her, the colour returning to his face. He gripped his curly hair in both hands, adrenaline running high.

‘Why do you think so poorly of yourself?’

‘I see men looking at you, Neda, I’m not stupid … I am a very lucky man though.’

Men did look at her, but Neda thought it was because she wore a hijab. That said, she knew she was attractive, she wouldn’t deny it. She always thought it strange when women pretended they didn’t realise their own beauty.

‘Why, Hossein, I am lucky too,’ she told him.

CHAPTER 14

Soraya

London, 2014