The next week whizzed by in a circus of emails and phone calls. Menem had come over on Sunday with his family, then booked in another visit for Wednesday. Even though he was coming to our house, I still felt the need to check that my parents wouldn’t mind. I realised how deeply embedded the guilt was; I was feeling it even when we were openly ‘courting’.
So I asked Dad, but received a surprising response from him.
“Of course, Samira! Why do you ask like a child? You’re a mature girl!”
I tell you.
But I gave Menem advanced warning that I’d be spending Friday night with Lara, who had called me early in the week to set up a date. I’d apologised to him for her behaviour already, of course. He assured me that he didn’t take offence. Something about me being the one he’s interested in, can’t remember exactly. Then he poked me on Facebook. All I could think was thank God Hakeem couldn’t see that because I’d never hear the end of it.
Just as I’d finished composing an email to Menem with the beginnings of a knock-knock joke at the end, there was an actual knock at my door.
“Come in.”
Lara peered hesitantly through the doorway. “Hi,” she said.
“Hey.”
Lara entered and closed the door behind her. She attempted a smile, looking a bit tired and nervous and not at all her usual bubbly self.
“We need to talk,” she said, her hands in her jeans pockets.
I concurred with a nod. She sat down on the bed, flipped off her thongs then rested her legs sideways.
“I owe you an apology. I was being a bitch. And you’re mature and ugly enough to take care of yourself,” she said with a half-smile.
“Cow,” I replied.
This time she nodded. “Friends?”
“Of course. But you know, Menem deserved better when you met him. I would never have behaved that way towards someone you liked.”
“I know you wouldn’t. But it comes from a good place. Honestly.”
We were quiet for a moment. Lara looked truly repentant, almost a little shell-shocked that it had come to this. I understood how she felt.
“About Menem,” I began.
“Maybe he is a good guy,” interrupted Lara. “Fine. But you’re so special, so you deserve special.”
“You think that way because you’re my cousin. And my best friend.” Duty-bound, etc.
“No,” she said, emphatically. “I’m crazy, I have no balance. I don’t even think I can ever get married because I’d drive him batty. And that’s all right. You’re different though.”
I shook my head. Lara grabbed my hands. “It’s not an accident that you’re single. You deserve the best.”
I sighed. “Lara-.”
“Look,” she said. “You’ve got two great guys wanting to be with you.”
At least she said two. If she had said one, there was no way she’d be referring to Menem and we’d have to restart this entire conversation.
“I know I behaved badly. And I probably was unfair in judging Menem. I admit it.” I could tell it hurt her to do it. Lara admit to being wrong? Look out your window, you might catch the flying pig show.
She leaned over and hugged me tight.
“You’re being too generous,” I told her.
“No. I’m not,” she said, hugging me tighter.
When she finally pulled away, I said, “Okay, but will you give Menem a chance?”
“I don’t need to give him a chance. You’d be the one living with him.”
“You know what I mean.”
Lara paused. “Yes. Even though I stand by what I said, it’s just my opinion. I think Hakeem cares for you in ways he doesn’t even realise.”
“Stop watching movies! I thought I was bad!”
“He shows it with all the little things he does for you. Whenever you need something, does he even hesitate? What about the time we got stranded and he came and changed the tyre at a moment’s notice?” she said, hopefully.
“Yes, he’s very kind. But did you not see how disapproving he was?”
“He’s not the easiest guy to deal with,” conceded Lara.
And then, involuntarily, I remembered an incident a year or so ago at Abu Ibrahim’s house, following some renovations. Something heavy fell off a box, or maybe it was a heavy box that fell. Whatever it was knocked me out. According to those present at the scene, I’d been unconscious for all of half a minute.
Mind you, passing out wasn’t terribly exciting. Oh, I know it looks exciting in the movies. Suddenly everything goes black and then the heroine wakes up looking delirious and the man she loves suddenly realises he’d positively hate it if she up and died on him. So there he is, crouching over her, when he says in husky tones, something like, “Darling, you scared us! Don’t ever do that again!” (As though she might try and slot in another bout of unconsciousness before tea.) Following this, the man would scoop up the now-conscious heroine into his arms and the music would swell.
All lies. Misleading and completely unrealistic. First of all, I woke up quickly, but I was nursing a nice little bump and my head was throbbing. Further, I’d woken up to Lara crouched over me all wide-eyed while everyone else milled above. No dashing hero to scoop me up into his arms. Then Lara yelped, “Who’s the President of Australia?” to test that I wasn’t concussed. And when I corrected her and said, “You mean the Prime Minister” she started crying and begged someone to take me to the hospital.
But that same day, while everyone was working, and while Lara was pretending to work, Hakeem would occasionally look my way, all tense and big-brother-like. And after he’d gone to get lunch for everyone, he dropped a plastic bag beside me, saying gently, “Some medicine”.
And of course it wasn’t just medicine. He’d bought me Snickers bars and Diet Coke.
I didn’t know what to say, but I suddenly felt deflated. Lara wasn’t the only one to romanticise things. We all did it in some way or another. Was it meant to be this hard? Could someone please sue Hollywood? And book publishers? And anyone else who’s ever messed with women’s heads?
“Lara, I need to think about my future. It’s fun to hypothesise that Hakeem and I have this amazing connection. Maybe we do. But that doesn’t mean we should get married.”
“Would you consider him, though? If he asked?”
“No, I don’t know. I really like Menem, okay? Now can we please change the subject?”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that if I’m going to lose you to someone, I’d much rather it’s Hakeem. At least I know him and what his issues are. And Lord knows Hakeem needs someone who’ll make him lighten up a bit,” she sighed.
“He’s not that bad,” I said.
“Whatever. Anyway, I love you and that’s all that matters.” She reached over and hugged me again. “Now let’s get something to eat and prank your cousin Jamal,” she said, mid-embrace.
“Lara, be careful with him,” I warned, pulling away from her.
“What on earth do you think I’m going to do?” she asked, startled.
“Oh, I dunno. Make him fall for you then reject him when he wants to marry you?”
“Oh my God, that only happened like twice!”