Tunnel Vision (27 page)

‘
Slow down Ayesha, what
'
s your hurry?
'

‘
I want to get as far away from here as possible.
'

‘
We were only dancing. It was just a bit of fun.
'

‘
Then why don
'
t you go back and have some more fun? I can get home myself.
'

‘
It
'
s late. You know you can
'
t get home by yourself looking like that this late. I
'
ll never let you take a cab alone.
'

‘
Then I guess you better drop me home.
'

‘
Whatever the boss wants.
'

We eventually found the car, parked some distance away and settled into it. Omar turned on some music, but I reached over and turned it off. It agitated me further, accelerated the pounding in my head.

‘
Okay,
'
Omar whistled,
‘
I guess we won
'
t be listening to any music then.
'

We drove in silence for a while.

‘
How can you go to these things week after week? Same people, same places, same music, same trivial conversation and fake smiles, no one makes eye contact but everyone wants to touch, how can you bear it?
'

‘
Bear it? I like it. It
'
s relaxing. It takes away some of the tension of the week, uses up some of that excess energy.
'

‘
Why can
'
t you use that energy for something more constructive?
'

‘
Like what?
'

‘
I don
'
t know … social work or something.
'

Omar laughed,
‘
Okay, next weekend we
'
ll go give a heroin addict a bath. Would you like that?
'

I had laughed despite myself.

‘
I
'
m being earnest and meaningful, how can you laugh?
'
Omar had mimicked my angry face and I had laughed again.

‘
Ayesha, Ayesha, Ayesha, you know there
'
s a song about you? I
'
d play it for you but you
'
d only get angry again.
'

I had smiled, feeling quite silly now the rage had passed.

‘
We don
'
t have to go to these parties if you don
'
t want to,
'
he had continued.

‘
But you like to go, don
'
t you?
'

‘
I don
'
t really care.
'

‘
Yes you do.
'

‘
Doesn
'
t matter. We
'
ll do something else.
'

‘
Like what? What is there to do in Karachi for a couple? Or for anyone, for that matter? Eat out. Go to the beach. Go to someone
'
s house. You can
'
t go to the movies with a girl because the films are crap and some moron is always trigger-happy with a laser light plus using the bathroom puts you at risk for at least a million communicable diseases.
'

‘
There
'
s always sport.
'

‘
Where? Cricket on the street? Me running between the wickets in my tight kameez? That
'
ll be a big hit. No, Omar, I know this is your idea of fun. And I don
'
t want you to stop having any.
'

‘
So you
'
ll go next week?
'

‘
No, you
'
ll go next week. Without me.
'

‘
How can I go alone?
'

‘
You don
'
t have to go alone.
'

‘
But you just said you won
'
t come, and I
'
m not going to take Fahad!
'

Fahad was one of Omar
'
s still gawky friends. Invites to private parties were hard to come by without the right connections, and Fahad never got any. He was constantly begging Omar to take him along. Omar had promised to, the second Fahad got a date. End of the Fahad Party quest.

‘
There are lots of women who would be only too happy to go with you.
'

‘
But I have a girlfriend.
'

‘
Yeah, I
'
ve been wanting to talk to you about that,
'
I began.

Omar pulled over.

‘
What are you doing?
'
I asked, worried by the look on his face.

‘
So talk.
'

‘
I can talk while you drive.
'

‘
No, I want to give you my full attention, and I want you to listen to me before you say anything, okay? This is important.
'

‘
Okay. But I really think I should go first,
'
a stone settled into the pit of my stomach. I liked Omar, really liked him, I didn
'
t want to make this any more awkward than was absolutely necessary.

‘
No. You always get to go first. For once I
'
m going to take the lead. Considering what I
'
m going to say, I hope it
'
s a healthy precedent,
'
his cheekbones glinted in the lights of a passing car as he smiled softly. My heart rate accelerated. Where was the overzealous police force when you really needed it? What I wouldn
'
t give for a tullah demanding a nikahnama.

‘
Ayesha,
'
Omar took a deep breath and launched into it,
‘
my mother wants to meet you.
'

‘
Why?
'
I couldn
'
t keep the irritation out of my voice. He looked surprised.

‘
Why? Because she wants to know all about this girl I
'
ve been spending so much time with.
'

‘
How does she know about me? I
'
ve never been to your house alone, and you have so many female friends.
'

‘
It
'
s quite obvious you
'
re not like my other female friends. Who do you think helped me select that bracelet I gave you on your birthday? Can you imagine me walking into a jeweller
'
s by myself? They
'
d eat me alive. I
'
d have walked out having paid thousands for an empty satin lined box.
'

‘
That
'
s scary.
'

‘
What
'
s scary?
'

‘
That a boy can be so close to his mother.
'

‘
It
'
s not like she
'
s my best friend or anything but yes, I am close to her, she is my mother. There
'
s nothing wrong with that.
'

‘
Of course not,
'
I said glibly, thinking that it was almost unhealthy, soliciting help from your mother to seduce a girl. Though Omar
'
s seduction attempt, it was becoming apparent, sprang from that time-honoured cliché of
‘
pure
'
intentions.

‘
Anyway, she wants to meet you,
'
Omar tried again.

Running over the dialogue in my head, there seemed no easy way to drop the bomb, so I just blurted out,
‘
I can
'
t meet her!
'

‘
I know you can
'
t meet her right now, but maybe in a few days you can come over for tea and …
'

‘
And what?
'

‘
And then if things go well, the week after we can come and meet your mother.
'

‘
What if things don
'
t go well?
'
I had no intention of letting
‘
things
'
ever get to the stage but perversely, I inserted another note of discord in a conversation I should be letting run as smoothly, painlessly, as possible,
‘
what if your mother doesn
'
t like me? Then, will it be the end for us?
'

‘
You should know me better than that, Ayesha. If, God forbid, that does happen we
'
ll just back off and wait a while and then try again later. I
'
ll bring her around soon, see if I don
'
t. What
'
s important is that we stick together.
'

‘
Ah, so you are anticipating trouble?
'
I was evil. Plain, simple, unadulterated bad. Omar was good, kind, pure, interested. I was about to break the proverbial bottle over his head and yet I was somehow making all of it his fault. If I broke up with him now, he
'
d walk away thinking he
'
d said or done something tonight to offend me. Nothing could be further from the truth. He was saying all the right things. I just didn
'
t want to hear them. Sick, twisted, cold-hearted, frigid freak that I was.

‘
You deserve better than me,
'
there was a catch in my voice, but I wasn
'
t feeling bad for him right then. I was feeling bad for poor little sick me, beset by these awful empathic voices clamouring
‘
Change, Escape, Peace,
'
threatening to beach the boat I had rowed so far out into my personal ocean of negativity. Why couldn
'
t they just leave me alone?

‘
No, it
'
s me who isn
'
t good enough for you,
'
Omar said earnestly,
‘
I know I
'
m young, I
'
m too impulsive, I don
'
t plan but give me a chance and I
'
ll show you what I
'
m capable of, I know I can be better than this, and you
'
re the only one who makes me want to be. Please Ayesha, just meet her.
'

A man saying
‘
change me
'
. A marriage that meant trading up. Deep, enduring like, if not love. And here I was thinking wistfully of why we never had relationships between equals, why it was always
‘
you deserve more
'
and
‘
I
'
m not good enough
'
. Even our dramas and films, our celluloid dreams, were all about critical imbalances and the loves that harmonized them. Rich girl, poor boy. Rich boy, poor girl. Angry father-in-law and vengeful mother-in-law, inspector and criminal, man and goat …

‘
Ayesha, what are you thinking? Tell me!
'
It was still late night. I was still in Omar
'
s car. He was still talking. It wasn
'
t over. I gathered my thoughts, preparing to hurl them all at once.

‘
Look, if you need more time to think about it, that
'
s fine. We
'
re graduating in two weeks and I was hoping we could share some good news with our friends, give them one last treat at the canteen before we leave, but that
'
s okay. There
'
ll be plenty of time for that later. You
'
re tired. I
'
m sorry. I
'
ll just drop you home and we can talk about it later,
'
Omar touched the key in the ignition. I reached out and touched the hand on the brake.

‘
No,
'
my voice didn
'
t sound that way, did it? Neutral, almost robotic, as if I had no gender. Appropriate though,
‘
No, I need to finish this now.
'

‘
Please don
'
t.
'

‘
I wanted to tell you we were over and then you started with the “meet my mother” thing and I got sidetracked and said all kinds of silly things, made you believe you had really hurt me when, actually Omar, all I really want to say to you is I don
'
t want to meet your mother. I don
'
t even want to meet you any more. It
'
s over.
'

‘
Don
'
t say that Ayesha. It
'
s just starting.
'

‘
Well then we
'
re not talking about the same thing because as far as I
'
m concerned this is it for us. We graduate, we part. The end.
'