Page 77 of The Mismatch

‘Tell me about the editor then!’ she said in an attempt at enthusiasm.

‘I don’t want to now.’

Soraya leant into him, really looked at him. His face, usually so manly, looked childlike suddenly. And up this close she noticed the faint freckles scattered across his nose.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

He leant back then grabbed her wrists with both his hands, before linking their hands together. ‘You’ve nothing to apologise about.’

‘You’re in a bad mood because of me.’

‘I just want things to be like before,’ he said. ‘I guess that’s a stupid thing to say.’ He said the last part quietly, almost to himself.

Something about these words stung. She couldn’t quite place what it was. She knew he saw it on her face, the hurt.

‘I want you to realise you’ve done nothing wrong. None of what happened was your fault. You’re a good person.’

She could feel her eyes watering then. He was saying this because he understood, because he had been in her position, and had blamed himself. She knew this, objectively. But she did not feel as if she was a good person. She was alwaysletting people down, and now she was dragging Magnus down too. She had messed everything up.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ she mumbled.

He sighed, rubbing her hand with his thumb. ‘I just want you to be happy.’

She wanted that too, but it felt like a selfish wish. Shouldn’t she want to make him happy? Wouldn’t that mean giving him things she wasn’t sure she could give him? Was there a middle ground?

‘Let’s just have a nice night,’ she said.

He looked like there was more he wanted to say, his mouth half open, but he snapped it shut, sat back on the sofa.

He nodded and nothing more was said on the matter.

CHAPTER 36

Neda

Liverpool, 1978

The next weekend Neda stayed up until Hossein came back at 4 a.m. She had become a deep sleeper. The way he struggled with the key must not have registered with her before. When he finally entered the studio flat he lurched around for a moment or two and then, upon seeing Neda sitting on the bed with the lamp on, stopped short.

‘Why are you up?’ Hossein said. His voice was slurred, and that was when she knew.

She shut her eyes tightly, wishing she hadn’t done this, wishing she hadn’t put herself in this situation.

‘I couldn’t sleep.’

He began walking slowly towards her, his steps more deliberate and controlled since he knew he was being observed. Despite this, she could smell sweat and alcohol on him. The bad smell seemed to roll in waves towards her, mocking, taunting.

‘I need to piss,’ he said, going into the bathroom. She could hear him urinating, and it went on for a long time. And then the shower. The hum of the old boiler and water trickling.

She bit her lip hard, not knowing how to dispel her anger.

When he finally came out, in just his boxers, his hair wet, he didn’t meet her gaze.

‘Why can’t you sleep?’ he asked, grabbing himself a mug of water.

‘Why are you walking like that?’ she said.

‘Like what?’ He took a long sip, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand as some of the water trickled down his chin.