Last week? So they had been here without me? Why didn’t I hear about this? Am I just the spare part in this friendship? Is this them telling me that they’re kicking me out of the group? But then why would Lipi have two sets of gym wear in her bag if she wasn’t expecting me to come along today? If she’s lugging clothes around for me, they can’t be thinking of fobbing me off, can they?
‘We were here with the boys last week,’ Lipi supplies, as if she can tell that my mind is spiralling.
Oh.That’swhy I wasn’t invited.
‘And Amit had booked the court. Or so he thought. Turns out his version of booking a court is just turning up rather than booking through the app. Safe to say, we actually didn’t play last week.’ Shirin rolls her eyes. ‘Honestly, sometimes I question the number of brain cells he has.’
‘Pop, here you go.’ Lipi grabs a set of gym wear from her bag and tosses it my way.
I enter a little changing room with a couple of hooks, a bench and a mirror, and change into a forest-green racer vest and a matching pleated tennis skort.
When I step back out, I’m greeted by Shirin wolf-whistling at me so loudly people on the neighbouring court look our way in confusion.
‘Cut it out,’ I tell her as I playfully slap her shoulder. ‘But thank you. My ego has risen to a level you would not believe.’
‘Oh, I can believe it.’
This time, my slap is no longer playful, and I grab the racquet out of her hand while I’m at it. ‘Now, how the hell do you play pickleball?’
I’d searched it up on Google on the way here but it seemed too complicated to understand without somebody walking you through it.
‘Does anybodyactuallyknow the rules?’ Lipi says as she hands Shirin another racquet. ‘The boys got us into it, but I wasn’t really listening when they explained it. To be honest, I feel like it’s just tennis but with a lower net and on a smaller court. My aim this whole time has just been to hit the ball, nothing else.’
‘This is absolutely not tennis,’ Shirin says, looking aghast, as if she was the spokesperson for the sport. ‘In pickleball, you need to serve underhand and below the hip an—’
‘Shirin,’ I say seriously, ‘why are we pretending to be middle-aged white people? Why can’t we just play badminton like our ancestors did?’
‘Because it’s fun?’ she says, but something in her tone tells me she doesn’t believe that.
And when her gaze travels to somebody behind me, I realise why.
A boy in a leisure centre uniform walks past and towards the restaurant area, where he takes an order from a customer. When he comes near one of the tables by us, he waves to Shirin, who waves timidly back. I exchange a glance with Lipi, who just shrugs. I’m pleased that Shirin’s crush on this boy isn’t news only to me. Maybe I am safe in this friendship after all.
‘You’re picking up a sport for a boy?’ I ask her when she returns back to earth, said boy having disappeared inside the building.
‘Notforhim.’ Shirin blushes. It’s a surprising sight, as her usual facial expression is a mix between annoyed and get-out-of-my-way-I’ll-sort-it. ‘But you know. If we play pickleball or at least understand some of the rules, then maybe I’ll have an in when I finally pluck up the courage to talk to him.’
Lipi and I burst into laughter.
‘What?’ Shirin asks.
It’s endearing to see Shirin bumble. She’s usually so headstrong and sure of herself that to see her confused and nervous over a boy is refreshing.
‘Nothing – you’re just cute when you’re flustered,’ I say.
‘I am not flustered!’ she says.
‘Oh, but you are,’ Lipi adds, gently touching her cheek. ‘Your face has gone so warm, I wouldn’t be shocked if you could cook something on it.’
Shirin swats away Lipi’s hand and sticks her tongue out at us, which only causes us to laugh even harder, and soon enough Shirin’s laughing with us. I’m not sure what we’re laughing at, but we’re belly-laughing so hard that we have to hold on to each other for support. It quickly takes a turn when, shaking in hysterics, we all tumble to the ground. As soon as my stomach finally stops hurting from joy and I can breathe again, I say, ‘God, I needed this.’
I’m not sure whatthisis, whether I mean the sunshine, freshair or just spending quality time with my best friends, but I realise I’ve missed it. The girls started their jobs a week earlier than me, so it feels like ages since I’ve seen them.
And it doesn’t help that, because of our break-up, the friendship group doesn’t feel the same as it was before. With group chats that don’t involve all of us and my friends saying they don’t want to get involved in our drama – so they don’t have to choose sides and split up the group even further – I feel like I’m out of the loop with what’s happening in their lives. I wonder how much I’m missing out on because they’re hanging out without me or because they’ve already messaged about it in their group chat with Salman.
I suppose I’m slightly salty as well about their choice to stay neutral about the situation. But now? It feels like I can forget all of that for a moment. That we can just beusagain.
‘Glad I could be of entertainment.’ Shirin salutes. ‘But I’d rather we didn’t take pleasure in my atrocious love life.’
