I want to roll my eyes at her, but this probably isn’t the rightmoment.
‘No, it’s not the pain,’ I respond with a deep sigh.
‘Then what is it?’
I really don’t want to have the conversation right now. I was hoping to chat to Shirin and Lipi first, get their advice on how to broach the subject, but if I don’t do it now, then when? There’s never going to be a right time, and I don’t want to put off my relationship with Salman any longer. I’ve spent too much time apart from him already; I don’t want to waste another second.
There’s no hiding any more.
‘I was with Salman,’ I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Ma’s face contorts with confusion before it turns angry. ‘He made you cry?’
‘No.’ I pinch the bridge of my nose. ‘Actually, it’s .?.?. about you.’
Ma flinches. ‘Me? Poppy, what are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about the fact that six months ago Salman and I were a couple and then you had a fight with his parents and –’ I think of the best way to phrase it, considering the information I found out today – ‘we decided we couldn’t be together any more, because how could we when there was clearly something bigger at play? How could we be happy when our parents hated each other?’
Ma’s face freezes.
‘Before everything happened, we were going to tell you about us because we didn’t want to hide it from you, but then you had the fight.’ There’s a tightness in my chest rather than the release I was expecting, and it infuriates me so much I have no choice but to word-vomit even more. ‘And today? Today, I got to kiss the boy I loved – the boy Istilllove, the boy I will probably love for the rest of my life – and it was everything I’ve been missing for the last six months.’ I pause, slowly shaking my head as thetears start all over again. ‘Except you’re still fighting with his parents, and how can we be a couple when the people we love the most can’t even be in the same room together?’
Ma’s lips part, like she wants to say something but can’t find the words, so I keep going.
‘What I’m trying to say, Ma, is that I want to be with him, but I can’t do that until I understand what the fight between you and his parents was about. I can’t go on not knowing, and Ineedto know at this point because if I have to give up my second chance at happiness with him, then I need to know that at least it’s for something worthwhile. That I’m not just blindly following you in the dark.’
Quietly, she asks, ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing Salman?’
‘Oh my God, Ma!’ I run my hands through my hair. Is she being serious?Thisis what she’s worried about? Me dating Salman? Breaking her no-dating-until-I’m-eighteen rule? ‘It’s not about him. It’s aboutyou! Why can’t you tell me what the fight was about? Is whatever they did really that awful?’
Her eyes glaze, like she’s holding back tears. ‘Let’s sit down, Poppy.’ Ma turns away and walks towards the lounge. I wipe away my tears and follow her, feeling as if I’m walking towards an execution. When we take our seats on the sofa, Ma doesn’t face me but rather looks out the window to her left. As the silence stretches out, my heart pounds a million beats a minute. What could be so horrible that she needs to mentally prepare herself to tell me?
‘It happened at the dawat at Khaleda Auntie’s,’ Ma says, her voice distant. ‘We agreed that I was to bring the biryani, which you know is an honour. To bring one of the main dishes isn’t something to take lightly, you know? It’s a privilege. And even though you and I know I’m not the best cook, I undertook the challenge.’
I remember that day.
I couldn’t go to the dawat because I had a fever but I insisted that Ma go, having seen her frantically run around the house all afternoon, stressing over whether or not she had set the right temperature for the meat, if the basmati rice she had picked up from the store was the best quality, if she had rinsed it enough to remove the starch. She kept pacing the kitchen, questions exiting her mouth at record speed, and I had to calm her down, reassure her that she was doing everything right, even though I had absolutely no clue either.
‘I just want to do the recipe justice,’ she had said, her voice quiet, and my heart throbbed with pain because I knew why. It wasn’t just about bringing a dish to the party. It was about the dish itself.
She was following Baba’s recipe.
‘And you will,’ I had responded, with no doubt in my mind that she would make him proud.
‘The whole house smelled of your dad,’ Ma says, bringing me back to the present. ‘It was as if he was there with us. It felt like I had him by my side again.’ A weak, pensive smile graces her lips. ‘I got dressed that evening in a sari your father had given me shortly after we got married, and I paired it with earrings he had bought me for an anniversary present. That evening, it didn’t feel as if I was by myself.’
I feel a lump in my throat, knowing that this fond memory is about to be torn to shreds by a fight she never saw coming.
‘But then Hira and Azad took me out to the garden for a chat, and after that I felt all alone again.’
‘Why? What did they say?’ I ask, my heart in my throat.
Ma’s eyes glaze over and I can’t read the emotion in them. ‘They told me that they had set me up on a date with someone for the following week.’
I can’t help it. I actually gasp.
‘I immediately got defensive because although I had been considering dating again, I felt great shame at the idea of moving on, and having my friends confront me on the night I’d brought over a dish that follows your father’s recipe, a dish I had spoken to them about on the phone only hours before .?.?. I didn’t respond well.’ Ma shakes her head vigorously, her voice breaking as she speaks. ‘I said things I know aren’t true, but still I let the anger control my tongue.’
