Salman swallows. ‘How about a packet of Haribos as a way of saying sorry?’
I can’t help laughing. The instant sugar rush of Haribos has never failed to fix an ailment. Though I’m not sure it’ll fix this one.
At the same time, I can see it for what it is – a peace treaty.
‘You’re going to need a lot more than a single packet of Haribos,’ I say as we leave the court and walk towards our friends.
‘I’m prepared to drop as much cash as you need me to,’ he says. I’m so stunned by his response that I stop walking altogether. Instead, I watch him throw his arm around Amit, shepherding our friends inside the café to grab snacks. As the scene unfolds in front of me, I think that it feels almost normal.
12
Even though Salman and I agreed to be civil, we don’t interact much for the rest of the week. Sadia has him working with her on social media, creating posts about previous date locations and partnerships with vendors, while I stay at my desk, immersing myself in the couples I need to match up. I’m exhausted by the amount of work my brain is doing but I’m grateful for it, because it means I have an excuse to put on my big earphones and tune out everyone in the office.
On Thursday, in between flipping through pages and pages of questionnaires, I take a bite of the sad spaghetti bolognese that Ma cooked yesterday, trying – and failing – to make notes without specks of red sauce appearing on them. The spaghetti is stringy and dry, despite the sauce that desperately clings to the pasta. By my third bite, I abandon it altogether with a heavy sigh.
Ma never did learn how to cook properly. Baba always joked that Ma took university so seriously that she missed out on the life skills portion of the experience, while he enjoyed himself too much, whipping up meals for his flatmates rather than studying in his bedroom.
It’s actually how they met. Baba, needing some cash while he was studying, set up a meal delivery service where he’d cook and pack tiffin boxes for students across campus at a good price. One night he’d got an order from one of Ma’s classmates, who was worried about her and wanted her to eat something more substantial than pizza.
When he got to her door, he said it was love at first sight.
Ma was a whole head shorter than him, so he had to crane his neck down to see her, and even though he always complained about the strain, he said he wouldn’t change it for the world if it meant he got to lock eyes with her.
Ma didn’t think the same. She hardly saw the person who stood in front of her. She just wanted her meal so she could get back to her desk, but something inside her broke when she inhaled the scent of the tiffin box with the lentil stew and chickpea curry, and she immediately burst into tears. She hadn’t had a meal that smelled like her mum’s cooking in so long that the strings that held her together snapped. The homesickness she’d been trying to push aside so she appeared strong, along with the weight of being the first one in her family to go to university and set a good example for her siblings, finally became too much to bear. Baba, although he had several other deliveries to make, put them on the floor and held Ma until she felt better. Ma said there was something about him that made her feel like she could open up without being judged.
After that, they became inseparable. They got married pretty much immediately after they graduated, their parents delighted with the match that seemed to have been sent from heaven.
Our house hasn’t smelled of a good home-cooked meal since his death.
I shake off the memory, my throat growing tight with emotion, and focus instead on the clients in front of me. I’ve nearly finished all my matches, confident that I’ve got them right, but when I get to Omar’s profile, I find my confidence wavering. I hold up the sheet with his profile, and he looks back at me like he’s trying to tell me something that his answers can’t. He’s a landscape architect who also volunteers part-time at a community garden. From his intake form, he seems like the type of person who is genuinely empathetic and a groundingpresence, someone who can nurture and look after the people he loves. I’ve spent the past few days trying to pair him up with various people and, while some of the pairings work, they just aren’tright.
His match is on the tip of my tongue, but something is missing and I’m determined to find out what. I let out a sigh and drop his profile back on my desk, hoping I can find the answer by rereading the profiles, when Salman appears at the side of my desk.
‘How are you getting on?’ he whispers, even though there’s really no need to. The office is mostly empty with only a few other people from admin around, headphones over their ears as they type away.
‘Fine,’ I say, shuffling through my paperwork, but Salman doesn’t take it as his hint to leave. I sigh and swivel to face him directly. ‘Don’t you have your own work to do?’
His eyes fix on mine, a smile turning up his lips. ‘It can wait. I’d much rather talk to you.’
God, he’s really dialling up the charm to eleven today, isn’t he?
‘You do realise you’ll have to quit if you lose, right?’ I remind him.
‘Yeah, about that .?.?.’ He smirks as he runs a hand over his shaved head, his muscles flexing through his shirt. ‘I’d like to change our bet.’
‘What?You can’t just change the terms of a bet that’s already under way,’ I say, hearing how self-righteous I sound. ‘I’m not going to quit if you win, if that’s what you’re thinking. You had your chance to choose –’
‘Oh, my word.’ He cuts me off with a groan. ‘Would you at leasthear me outbefore you shoot me down?’
I shut my mouth, gesturing for him to go on.
He smiles slowly. ‘If I win, you have to hang out with me. Oneon one.’
An involuntary laugh rises up my throat. ‘What do you think we’re doing right now?’
‘Outside the office,’ he clarifies, and I notice a flicker of something uncertain in his eyes. Is he .?.?. nervous? Or is he just messing with me? Because it sounds a lot like .?.?.
‘Like adate?’ I say, doing my best not to let my jaw hang open. ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’ But as soon as the words leave my mouth, I wish I could take them back. His smile falters and there’s a soft sort of vulnerability that takes me completely by surprise. But, before I can be sure, it’s gone, replaced with a practised confidence. ‘I never said anything about it being a date, but it’s interesting to know that’s whereyourmind is at. I just meant the two of us, hanging out like we used to.’
