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When mum is on a mission, she ditches the unwritten rule book. The whole ‘don’t be too forward, let the boy’s side initiate progress’ BS goes out of the window. I would like to remind her how she bollocked me for getting M to hurry his parents along after our official meeting. However, after nearly 27 years of living with this woman, I’ve learnt to accept her do as I say, not as I do mantra.
The funny thing is, you can take the mum out of Bangladesh but you absolutely cannot take the Bengali politeness out of the mum.
First, mum has to evacuate the scene. “What you doing now? Always reading newspaper! Take it to front room, I’ve got important business to deal with. Business you never help with.”
Dad tumbles out, leaving mum to make her important phone call.
“Salaam... How are you?... Alhamdulillah we good... Have I caught you at a bad time?... Oh really? What are you cooking it with?... I haven’t cooked shutki for long time. My kids don’t really like the smell. But I did used to make many years ago...”
Mum darts a death stare at me. She’s still bitter as she sees me as the reason she stopped cooking her beloved dried fish, though it’s technically not true. Yes, I might have implied that it smelt absolutely rank but I never explicitly said don’t cook it ever again.
“You couldn’t live without it?... Oh, I used to think same until I stop having it. I do miss it... Really?... Your kids never complained once?... Well, that’s the right thing to do, show them you boss... You have more cultured children than me. Maybe because they were brought up in Bangali area. I wish I done same.”
Another death stare. I can’t take the blame for that one. It was dad’s decision to live in the sticks. I was born the only brownie in the village.
Mum waves her hand rigorously, like she’s trying to swat me away. I guess she’s moving on to the business end of the conversation.
***
“WELL HELLO, STRANGER,” I say down the phone to my missing in action friend.
Reception is patchy as hell on Julia’s end. “I’m sorry! I’m on the tube but we’re just going overground now so I can talk for a few minutes. I know I’ve been rubbish. Our firm is merging so work has been mental with late nights all over the shop. I even did a couple of all nighters, which is nothing like you see on TV. It’s totally shit. They don’t even order pizza here. They expect us to sustain ourselves by having a Pret sandwich. Anyway, how are you, my soon to be local friend?”
Julia was in the loop about my relationship with M from the very beginning. I didn’t dare tell any of my other school friends. They’ll think it’s totally weird that I’m getting married to someone I’ve only known for a few months. They’d be even more weirded out by the fact that the exact details of the wedding, the when, where, how many people are coming and all that sort of stuff – is out of my hands. Now that I’m saying it out loud, it does sound a bit odd from a non-Bengali layman’s perspective.
I’ve had to resort to updating Julia via text as she’s been terrible at taking my calls. Thus far her slow replies to my major life updates have consisted of an obligatory thumbs up, smiley face or winky face emoji. Julia used to be my go-to for everything, my ride or die. But now, not so much.
There is another reason for her being so terrible at keeping in touch. She’s seeing someone and I think this one might be for real. He’s a departure from her usual preference of brown man. From what I’ve heard from snatch text messages here and there and a bit of Facebook stalking, Miles the auditor is pretty much the male version of Julia. Middle-class and prim. She’s even changed her Facebook status from single to it’s complicated. I’m not sure why she doesn’t just got the whole hog and say in a relationship. It’s not like she has to be on the down low until she’s married, like me. Anyway, Julia has been terribly flaky. With her elusiveness and losing Sophia to mum life, I feel friendless at the time I need friends the most. Having been eternally single, I always thought that when I finally had a boy to talk of, I’d have friends to talk to.
“Yeah, yeah. I know the real reason you have not been free,” I tease. “So how is Miles?”
“It’s not that at all!” Julia goes into high-pitched defensive mode. “I’ve been really, really busy. I’m sorry, I just never knew being a solicitor in the city would take up so much of my time. Had I known I would’ve probably stayed in Manchester. Then again, there is a little bonus, as you’re going to be joining me soon.”
“Yeah, I guess I will be. I’m not quite sure when yet. But more importantly, tell me about Miles. Tell me everything.”
Julia coughs and suddenly becomes very British. “Oh, you know, he’s saying all the right things, doing all the right things. I’ve not needed to pay for anything at all and I’d say we’re on our 20th date. However, you’re not the only one that’s scared of jinxing yourself. I’m still waiting for the catch.”
“Maybe there isn’t one. Maybe he’s just genuinely a good guy. Or is that too crazy for you to comprehend? Besides, if he had a third nipple, I think you’d know about it by now.”
I can almost hear Julia blushing through the phone. “Yes, no issues on that front. Anyway, how are things with you and M?”
I’ve trained Julia to call him M, too. It’s like she’s in on this covert journal / diary / potentially viral blog-in-the-making.
“Things are great. And, I too, am hoping there isn’t a catch.”
“So, when will you come to London to see me? I thought one of the main advantages of you dating a boy from down south is that I’d be getting to see you more, not less.”
I love how Julia turns it round, like I’ve been the elusive one.
“I know but one of the advantages of dating a boy from London who is originally from Manchester is that he comes up quite often, so I don’t need to go down. Unless it’s for work. In which case I barely get to go beyond the office and Heathrow Airport, so I wouldn’t expect you to trek to the very outer periphery of London to meet me for a hot chocolate at an airport terminal. Though I have to say, M always makes the journey to catch me before my flight back. Even if it’s just for 20 minutes.”
I can’t help but smile with happiness/annoying smugness at the amount of effort M makes to sustain our long-distance relationship. Luckily, Julia can’t see my cheesy grin.
“I love that,” says Julia. “He’s chivalrous, like all good men should be but sadly most aren’t. Perhaps we bagged the last two old-fashioned gentleman.”
“I see. So Miles is a gentleman? Well that’s something. Who knows, maybe you’ll be getting married before me.”
“Oh no! We don’t rush things as much as your...” Julia stops herself.
“My lot? Oh, come on, we’ve known each other since we were five. You’re allowed to be a bit racist.”
“Never! You know what I mean. Anyway yes, Miles is a gentleman. And to think, we can have some great double dates when you are down. What is the update on that front?”
“Well, that’s why I called you. Mum is literally speaking to his mum at the moment. She’s going to ask her when we should plan for our engagement and you know what that means. Our engagements aren’t long, drawn out affairs like your lot. We’ll be setting a date after that and trust me, it won’t be in two years’ time.”
“Gosh! In which case, give me as much notice as you feasibly can. I need to check my weekend calendar so I can plan your hen do. And don’t worry, it will be classy. There won’t be an inflatable penis in sight.”
I had no idea Julia was planning to take charge of my hen do. I had no idea I’d be even having a hen do. It’s not necessarily a given in Bengali culture but I’m game for it. Though I’m slightly disappointed that she won’t surprise me with a novelty inflatable. It would’ve made for a fun picture opportunity where I act all coy and mortified while I’m secretly loving it.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be the first to know. In fact, I can hear my mum coming upstairs now to update me. Gotta go.”
Mum looks unsure as she comes into my room. “Okay, so we thinking of dates for engagement and she saying end of June could be good. It be hard planning as his big brother be going on holiday, and your sister still not tell me when her husband going Bangladesh.”
Mum leans in to whisper to me but there’s really no need. There is no one around to eavesdrop and M’s mum is safely all the way in Droylsden, half an hour from our house.
“Truth is, from the talk we just had, his mum might be tricky customer.”
“What do you mean?”
“She insist on dates that suit her family. Maybe it make life easy if we go with her idea for end of June.”
Blimey. I’m always blown away how mum can be such a bad ass in the house, bossing dad around but she backs down so easily when it comes to other people. Then again, she is desperate for me to get married.
“That doesn’t leave much time. I need to see what I’m doing as well,” I say.
Mum scoffs. “Oh, you have nothing going on. It’s not like you’re going on holiday, is it? Hmmph!”
She’s got me there.
“Anyway, it be worth having idea of wedding date, too. If engagement is hard to plan getting everyone in same room, wedding might be even harder. So your mother-in-law was thinking end July? It might be easier as it’s school holidays.”
“July, as in... four months away? And a month after we get engaged?”
Mum does her lip grimace thing.
When I said I couldn’t wait to get married I didn’t expect it to happen quite so soon.