Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating(28)

I’m not sure how exactly Abba is going to convince him of that, but I have no doubt that I’ll be seeing a lot more of this Uncle soon enough.




I only check my phone again when I’m crawling into bed later that night. Other than the dozens of messages in our group chat, I have a private message from Aisling.

Where have you been all day?

I sigh, not sure how to answer that. It should obviously be easiest to just tell her the truth, that I decided to tag along to the mosque with Abba—because I like going to the mosque whenever I can. But I’m not sure how Aisling will react to the truth.

I was helping my dad with election stuff.

The three dots to suggest that Aisling is typing appear immediately. As if she’s been waiting by her phone for me to reply to her messages.

Aisling: All this time????

Me: Yep

Aisling: you’re still coming to the party tomorrow, right?

Me: definitely

Aisling must be satisfied with that answer, because her messages stop there. No questions about Dad’s elections. No questions about what exactly I was doing that took up all my time.

It’s good, of course. I don’t have any answers to those questions. But I can’t shake the discomfort itching its way through me as I pull my duvet over my head.




On Saturday morning, Amma slips into my room with a jar of coconut oil. It’s our weekly tradition.

First, she brushes my hair and applies oil to it. Then I do the same to her hair. All the while, we catch up on the week’s goings-on.

Now, Amma sits behind me on the bed, brushing back my hair slowly and gently. I close my eyes, reveling in this. It’s my favorite time of the whole week.

“How was your week?” Amma asks, like she does every week.

“It was … complicated?” I bite my lip, not sure how much I want to share.

“Yeah?” Amma asks. “How was it complicated?”

“Ishu is complicated. I … met her sister. And Ishu was really weird about it.”

“Weird how?”

I chew on my lips, half regretting bringing this up when I don’t know how to share it with Amma. I guess she must sense my reluctance, because she puts down the hairbrush and shifts so that she’s sitting in front of me. Her eyebrows are furrowed as she takes me in.

“Okay … what’s wrong? What happened?”

I sigh. “Well … Ishu and I went out the other day …”

“And?”

“It was good until we ran into her sister.”

“Nikhita.” I don’t know how Amma dredges up the name from memory. “Because Ishita is hiding your relationship from her family?”

“No … because… . Ishu said that her sister would use that to blackmail her. It was the first thing she thought her sister would do. Doesn’t that seem strange to you? They’re family!”

Amma smiles. “You know, when Polash and Akash were young, they used to do things like that all the time.” She says it as if she’s remembering a fond memory. “Akash would take something that belonged to Polash and unless Polash agreed to do everything Akash asked him to do, Akash wouldn’t give it back.”

“That was a game,” I say. “When they were kids.”

“It was.” Amma nods. “But it’s not like they don’t get into major disagreements now. Didn’t you have a huge fight with Akash last time you saw him? You called him a sexist prick, if I remember correctly.”

“Because he made a ‘get back in the kitchen’ joke. That’s not even original, Amma.” Even though Akash is far older than me, he still tries to get me riled up with this stuff, and I always hate it. “Anyway … it’s different. Akash is a sexist prick,” I say matter-of-factly, and Amma’s smile broadens. “But he would never blackmail me about something like that.”

“Family is complicated, Hani. Everyone has a different relationship to their family.” She leans forward and cups my cheek with her palm. Her hands are soft and warm, and I immediately feel better about everything. Amma has a way of doing that. I don’t understand it, but I appreciate it.

“If you’re going to be with Ishu, the most you can do is listen and support her to the best of your abilities,” she says.

I wonder for a moment what Amma would say if I told her the truth. How she would react. What she would think of me.

I nod my head. “Yeah. I guess I was just surprised. Her sister was so nice.”

“People aren’t always who they seem to be.”

Unfortunately, I know that all too well.





chapter sixteen


ishu


I HAVE NEVER BEEN INVITED TO A WHITE IRISH PARTY before. I’ve gone to Bengali dawats and Eid parties and Desi weddings, but those are all easy to dress for because you just wear a fancy salwar kameez. For dawats, the simpler ones. For weddings, the most expensive and sparkliest ones.

But you can’t wear a salwar kameez to an Irish birthday party without sticking out like a sore thumb.

I don’t know when this became my go-to, but I video call Hani almost without thought. She picks up on the second ring. She looks different. Stripped down. Not the just-woke-up tired of the morning we chatted, or angelic like the first day she called me. She just looks herself, with her hair tied up in a towel.