Page 25 of People Change

@KianRahimi: Hey

She clicks on the notification to open the message. Three dots indicate Kian is typing, so she waits. This goes on for a while, until the dots disappear, and he doesn’t say anything else.

@ShirinInTheCity: Hello

She has the urge to lock her phone, but only because she finds this thrilling and over-stimulating for her small brain, so she does not know what to do with herself.

@KianRahimi: Thanks again for the book. I hope I didn’t seem weird or anything yesterday

@ShirinInTheCity: You didn’t seem weird. Why would you say that?

She knows exactly why he would say that, but she types quickly, so as not to let herself overthink this. She realises she wants him to say something like he did the night before, even though it makes her uncomfortable.

@KianRahimi: Ok good. It dm. Did your meeting go ok?

@ShirinInTheCity: It did actually. I mean, I kinda felt set up by my manager. I did all the work on this project only for it to be given to someone else for them to get the credit lol

She is of course not laughing or smiling as she writes this.

@KianRahimi: Damn. That’s rough.

@ShirinInTheCity: Sorry, it’s boring work chat

@KianRahimi: It’s not boring at all. You can talk to me about this stuff.

@ShirinInTheCity: I just always thought life would be different once I got my dream job, but it doesn’t really make a difference, does it?

She almost deletes the message, but there is something cathartic about pouring your heart out to someone over DM and not being able to see their facial expressions, their pity or lack thereof. She clings to her phone, sees the three dots flashing as he types.

@KianRahimi: I’m so sorry Shirin

@ShirinInTheCity: You’ve not done anything lol

@KianRahimi: But it sounds shit. I was really hoping you’d be happy. You deserve to be.

Something about that last message renders her teary-eyed. It takes her by surprise. And yet there is a familiar discomfort within her of being seen and laid bare, of being pitied. She can’t take any more, so she likes his message and puts her phone on Do Not Disturb mode. Pulls her Kindle out from her bedside drawer, to begin some reading for work. She reads the same sentence numerous times, but she is too pent up. She is about to slide further into bed and turn her light off, despite it still being early. Her polyester-blend sheets are scratchy against her skin, and she writhes around, trying to get comfortable. Inevitably she checks her phone. Kian hasn’t said anything else.

She lets out a held breath. Then she looks at her mailbox. Her mum has finally replied to one of her emails, a week later. She tells Shirin not to get her hopes up about a promotion, that she always gets ahead of herself. The email is cordial, bordering on blunt – with no exclamation marks or emojis, like Shirin’s – and ends with her asking Shirin if she can get birth control under her name to send to her cousin in Iran, who can’t get it, due to Iran’s sanctions. Shirin locks her phone. They’ve never had a close relationship, though it worsened when Shirin moved out of Hull. The small moments that showed her mother cared for her didn’t translate well in a long-distance relationship, especially since her mother moved to Tehran. Now it is almost like she forgets she has a daughter at all.

From her bedside table Shirin retrieves her packet of sertraline. She has one week’s worth left. She can feel herself spiralling, and yet there is this urge to stop taking them. It is like someone has their hands over her mouth, and becauseshe is quiet, it is assumed she is okay. That is what her drugs are like. They muffle the pain. They make it quiet but it’s still inside her. She is still struggling. She weighs the blister pack in her hand. She thinks if it lands in the bin she will stop taking them, and if it misses she will continue to do so. It is such a stupid thing to do and yet she is committed to it now. She thinks she is leaving it in God’s hands, even though she knows that isn’t how it works.

She shoots and, against the odds, she scores.

In exchange, she reaches into the drawer for one of many packets of Night Nurse. She pops two tablets out of the packet, holds them in the middle of her palm. For a moment she gazes at the two large capsules. Each one is two-toned, white and blue. She puts them both in her mouth and takes a long sip of water, swallowing them down.

She turns the light off and waits for sleep to take her.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

And eventually, when she is asleep, it is not Kian she dreams of, but Rob Grayson. He has broken into her house in Hull, and she is there alone. When she hears the front door click shut, she knows it is him, as you often do in dreams. He follows her into the living room and she runs through the side door into the kitchen, her feet slipping on the laminate flooring in the process. He is far enough away from her that she thinks she can get away, but his voice is in her ears.

Paki.

Disgusting.