Page 94 of The Mismatch

CHAPTER 43

Soraya

London, 2014

Soraya zoned out. Only partly from the drugs.

It was at moments such as these that she began to understand her dad’s addiction. Not that she was addicted, she knew that, but she recognised the great appeal of forgetting yourself – or rather accepting yourself. While intoxicated she became more open and people talked to her.

In the past few months, she’d rekindled friendships with people from university whose personalities revolved around their love of techno music and recreational drugs. They were not quite clean and very thin as a result of the comedowns that supressed their appetites. But in wanting to forget, and not be around people who were particularly happy, she tagged along with them on a night out. Oliver said, ‘I’d rather stick needles in my eyeballs than go,’ so he did not join them.

The smoking area was filled with hipsters of varying degrees, both old and young. Boys and girls were wearing vintage-looking jeans with sheer tops. Soraya half got the dress code and wore a mesh crop top and a tennis skirt with fishnet tights, but one of her thighs seemed the same circumference as both of her friend John’s.

It was at times like these, when she felt most alone, that she wished she knew her lost sister. Perhaps Laleh would be on her side, would understand her in a way her other siblings never did. She resolved to get her mum alone and ask her about Laleh over Christmas, find out anything she could about where her eldest sister might be. She must at least try.

She had resigned herself to the fact that because they were a small family she would have to go back home for Christmas. She imagined if she didn’t show they’d probably drive up to London and bring her back.

So she drank to blot out:

The thought of bringing up the subject of Laleh with her mother.

Enduring her dad’s presence.

Her entire relationship with Magnus being fake.

Despite everything, the last point was the one that hurt the most. She was familiar with family disappointment, but in matters of the heart this was a fresh, new kind of pain. She couldn’t decipher what was real from what was fake in their relationship and spent many nights mulling over their dates, playing detective. When in moments of despair she concluded it was all lies, she hated him even more.

She sipped her vodka cranberry laced with MDMA. She smacked her lips together, finding the taste bitter. For her, taking MD was no different from drinking alcohol; it served a purpose when partying, but she didn’t need it to survive. That was how she and her dad differed. She resolutely toldherself they were different. She was young with no dependants, and so her taking drugs occasionally would have no consequences for anyone else, but he had children, a wife – he should know better.

And when she thought back to Magnus who was against drug taking, she wondered whether he saw it as being any different from alcohol. Yes, you often didn’t know what was in the drugs and Soraya knew she was stupid for overlooking that fact – but everyone knew an alcoholic nowadays. The damage from alcohol was equally as bad as drug addiction, but no one talked about it. Perhaps she took the MDMA to spite Magnus, and maybe that’s why she had taken more than usual tonight.

Ungracefully, she got up from her seated position on the floor in the smoking area. ‘I’ve got to pee,’ she lied, needing a moment to herself.

She waded through sticky bodies to get to the toilets. The harsh lighting made her squint, and the sight of her reflection made her squint further. She smoothed her hair down and used a wet paper towel to wipe away her smudged lipstick. Her eyes were completely black, demon-like. She liked it.

There were other girls in the toilet, in similar states of disarray, but they were with friends. She leant against the bathroom wall as she waited in the queue, took her phone out and held it at a distance. Focusing her eyes, she opened the Facebook app. Searched Magnus Evans. Clicked on his profile and scrolled down. He had posted a picture three hours ago. It was of him and his housemates, beers in their hands in apub. She scrolled down further. Twelve hours ago, a topless mirror selfie. Fifty likes, with comments such as, ‘Your room is so messy Magnus’, followed by an emoji, from the type of girl who would check him out at parties. The type of girl Soraya wasn’t.

He usually laughed when she said they were checking him out, shaking his head, saying something like, ‘No, that’s just Beth, she’s a friend.’ But Soraya knew the way a woman’s mind works. They were waiting for him to be single and now he was.

‘Why did I go out with someone hot?’ Soraya muttered. ‘Why couldn’t he have been unattractive?’

She made a decision. She deleted his phone number. Deleted their WhatsApp messages. Unfollowed him on Instagram. She would have deleted him from Facebook but he would have known, and she didn’t want him to think she was trying to get his attention. Instead she vowed to look at Facebook less. When she’d finished she breathed deeply.

A random girl asked her if she was OK.

‘I’m A-OK!’ she said, in that overenthusiastic way people do when they’re pretending to be fine.

When she finally had the chance to pee, she remained sitting down on the seat, staring at the back of the toilet door. This wasn’t how she’d expected graduate life to be. She knew they said it was hard to get a professional job. But she hadn’t thought it would takethislong. Didn’t think she’d be the only one of her friends without one. How many more application rejections, interview rejections, would it take until she caught one, just one? Her romantic life had been her only savinggrace throughout the rejections, and now that had come crashing down. Her dad’s aggression was nothing new, but Magnus had made her feel, for the first time, like she wasn’t to blame, and that her dad’s behaviour wasn’t excusable or something she should grin and bear.

She went back to the dance floor, and feeling another wave, happily danced on her own to the techno music she usually deplored. She allowed herself to be swept up in the crowd of bodies, bobbing their heads, swaying to the beat. With her eyes shut she imagined herself surrounded by people who loved her, that she was weightless, everything fine.

When she opened them again she saw Laleh, her face was blurry but Soraya was certain it was her.

‘It’s you,’ Soraya said.

But Laleh ignored her. And when Soraya blinked she didn’t see her there anymore, just the backs of people dancing.

She blinked again, and promptly forgot her hallucination. Her eyes were playing with her, leaving her confused. So she continued dancing. Later when her friends found her they swayed to the music together. She wasn’t sure how long she danced for, just continued until the waves ended.