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I miss Sophia. I miss Julia. It totally sucks that I’m the happiest I’ve ever been but my friends, who were there with me in pursuit of happiness, are now missing in action. I don’t want to be one of those girls that ditch their mates as soon as they get a man. I’ve been on the receiving end of that one too many times so I know it’s not nice. Yet, inadvertently, that’s what’s happened. Except I’ve not ditched them. They’ve forgotten about me.
This time last year I relished my weekend meet-ups with Sophia and I lived for my pizza dates with Julia. Now I live for the ping on my phone that signifies a message from M. It’s always him. Rarely anyone else. My sisters and scam telemarketing calls don’t count.
Is that how it’s going to be for me? Does it have to be one or the other? Why can’t I have both friends and a fiancé?
One of the things that made me feel so different from the rest of my girlfriends was the lack of a man to talk about. Growing up, all my friends had boyfriends at some point or another, with the exception of bookish Helen. I always assumed that it’s something my white friends did, not the reserve of a good Muslim girl. Then I went away to university and found that lots of the Asian girls dated, too. That was an eye opener. I never quite fit but now I do. Now I have commonality, I just have no one to share this with.
***
MUM BARGES INTO MY room looking delighted. She doesn’t bother knocking and is blissfully unaffected by my towel-wearing, leg-epilating self.
“Ninth of September. We have a date! Masha Allah, we have a wedding date! 9th September. We got bit more time now.”
Mum can’t hide her glee at finally palming off her third daughter. “Hoo! I breathe now. I was getting worried that we never agree on anything - me and your mother-in-law. She just called now though, to make things firm.”
“Oh, that’s good. I might start telling people at work now. And my friends.”
Mum does her upside down lip grimace thing. “Are you sure you want to start telling everyone? I understand work but friends? Isn’t it bit soon? Maybe wait till we’re closer to wedding date?”
Only a Bengali mum could think telling your closest friends you’re getting married three months before the actual wedding is a little premature.
“That’s ridiculous! Can I not just be happy and share my news like everyone else? Most girls share their ring on Instagram the moment they wear it.”
“They be silly girls,” says mum.
“No mum, they’re not silly. They’re normal. We’re not. We never do anything properly. We always have to be weird. Can’t I be normal, for once?”
“Okay, maybe your English friend Julia and that Pakistani girl you made friends with last year. Don’t get too ahead though. There is still plenty of time -”
She was about to say there is still plenty of time for things to go wrong. I love her confidence in this union.
Given that I’ve got the room to myself (little sis affords me a pinch of discretion when I’ve just had a shower), I decide to call Sophia. After one ring, it diverts to voicemail. She must have seen my number and pressed decline.
Maybe I’ll have better luck with Julia. Her phone rings terminally, before transferring to her clipped voicemail message.
As I don’t see Reena that often these days, I’ll save my message for a bit later. Yes, I am my superstitious mum’s daughter.
I text both prodigal friends with the click bait message of: I’m engaged! Just in case there’s any ambiguity, I follow this up with a sparkly engagement ring emoji. I’m tempted to send them a close-up shot of me wearing my ring but I decided against it as it may seem a bit too eager. Plus, the diamond might look small on screen. I can’t believe that I have to think twice about sending happy news to my friends.
As I continue to de-fuzz my neglected legs, I anxiously wait for a response from either of my friends. It shouldn’t be like this. Don’t friends share everything? Or is it more fun or interesting for them when I’m sharing bad news? Do they live for my disastrous dates?
I’ve always thought that, as women, we can sometimes be our own worst enemies. We struggle to be happy for each other, unless we are fully happy ourselves. I found this out first-hand in the early days of my man hunting. A girl recommended someone but decided not to follow it through. Maybe it was a sport? Is there a little bit of a Machiavellian in all of us? A primal instinct of survival of the fittest or most worthy of marriage? I could almost, almost understand if that’s the case with Julia, as she is forever in and out of relationships. But Sophia? Happily married and now a mum. Surely this should be the happiest time of her life. Could she not extend that happiness to me on my happy occasion?
Sod it, I’m sending a picture to Naila. I snap a close up of my ring and hit send. As soon as I put the phone down it pings with her reply:
Nice! How many carats is that? Is it a real diamond? I can’t tell.
Cheeky cow. I knew I shouldn’t have sent a picture. Like I say, women are bitches. My phone pings again and I’m a little too keen to get to it. It’s M:
Have you heard the news? Mum just called to let me know. I was going to ring you but I’m a bit busy at work. Are you free tonight? It’d be good to catch up. And I’m going to start annoying you with a countdown to our wedding day now. I can’t wait.
I’d normally be beyond giddy, like a schoolgirl, to receive a message from him. It’s just not who I expected.
I head downstairs to be greeted by the smell of samosas frying. Someone’s excited.
“Our freezer be full! So I better fry to make space. I thought we’d finish them off on your engagement but your in-laws no come here, so more for us! Maybe I finally have one! Come! Sit!”
I grab the ketchup and help mum take the plate of samosas into the living room. I get another message. Much to my relief, it’s Sophia:
Hon, you know I love you, so don’t take this the wrong way when I say it. It’s just that I get Imran to nap between 12 and two, so that window is pretty precious for me. So, could you not call me within those hours? I don’t mean to sound difficult, but I can’t even put my phone on silent in case Adnan needs to call me. He gets panicky when I don’t answer my phone. I hope you understand, hon.
I can’t believe it. It’s like she’s a different person to who I met last year. The one that would have me round to hers for dinner the moment she noticed I’m feeling down. The one who, crucially, pushed me to go online as she was convinced that I needed to expand my options. She was right but this feels so wrong. Did she even see my message?
If I’d have known that would be her response, I wouldn’t have even bothered messaging. I think back at our relationship, did it suit her when I was single? Was it convenient as a friend being always available, always entertaining with my stories, always in need of her crumbs of wisdom? Does it not sit right with her now our dynamic has changed? And also, how hard is it to nap a baby? Don’t they just... sleep?
***
I RECEIVE ANOTHER MESSAGE from Sophia at the end of the day: OMG! I’ve just seen your message. Congrats hon! I’m over the moon for you! Here’s wishing you an amazing future with your lovely man.
Wishing me... an amazing future? Does she not want to be part of that future? It sounds like a Bon voyage message.
No response yet from Julia.