I look at Dina once more, pressing my lips together as Istudy her. ‘Is this really what it’s going to be like? We’re just going to avoid each other, and when we can’t, we’re going to snipe at one another?’ I ask.
Dina looks surprised by the question, though I don’t know why she should be. Ever since I’ve known I was coming back, I’ve been going over everything about our past, obsessing over when I’d inevitably run into her again, what I’d say, what she’d say. Never in a million years did I expect things to be the way they are – I couldn’t have predicted us suddenly finding ourselves to be rival football coaches. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t want to find another way.
‘Do you have a better solution? Because it’s not like we can be friends.’ She says it so matter-of-factly that it sends an ice-pick through my heart.
I still remember when the two of us couldn’t bear to spend any time away from each other. When we weren’t hanging out at school or practising football in the park, we were at each other’s places. But now we’re strangers to one another. I don’t even recognise this Dina, with her air of defensiveness and bitterness. A Dina who barely deigns to give me a passing glance.
‘I’m not leaving, Dina. I’m not going back to America, and my parents are here. We’re going to run into each other at dawats, weddings, on the streets … who knows where else? Wouldn’t it be better if we weren’t always glaring at each other across the room? I don’t know why we can’t at least be civil with each other now.’
Dina finally looks up at me properly. If I thought her glares from before were bad, this is ten times worse. It seems to go through me, sending a chill down my spine.
‘Youdoknow why we can’t be civil with each other,’ she says. ‘Don’t pretend that we’re just two people who brokeup or drifted apart. Do you even know what I’ve been doing these past few years? I’ve been working in fucking finance, hating every minute of my life, but just trying to make ends meet. All the while, I’ve been thinking about the fact that things could have been different – I could have had what you had, if only you hadn’t taken it all from me. And now you’re back here, pretending that you’re somehow the wronged party. Like I’m the bad guy because I’m not smiling and laughing and embracing you with open arms. Did you even think about me once when you were gone?’
I’m so stunned that I can only blink at Dina for a moment. Her anger and bitterness is not something I’m alien to. I still replay the moment when she marched into my house all those years ago and ended things, blaming me for everything. And now she’s here again, doing the exact same thing. It’s like no time has passed at all. I’m still the one to blame, I’m still the villain who ruined Dina’s life. But that’s not even what hurts the most.
‘You really think I haven’t thought about you since I left?’ I ask.
A flash of surprise appears on Dina’s face, but I don’t give her a chance to respond. Suddenly, the words are pouring out of me.
‘I thought of you every day when I was gone. I tried so hard to stop, to forget you. But … it’s easier said than done.’ I let out a small, humourless laugh. The sleepless nights I spent after our break-up, reconsidering everything and anything, aren’t something I can forget. I don’t know how Dina can even entertain the idea that I’ve spent all these yearsnotthinking about her.
Dina stares at me, unblinking, like she’s looking through me. It makes my mouth dry up like a desert. ‘That doesn’t …change anything,’ she finally says, her voice slightly hoarse. Like even she doesn’t fully believe that.
I want to ask her if she thought about me too, but I know it will come out pathetic and sad. Thankfully, that’s when the sound of marching footsteps from outside the door interrupts us.
‘Dina? Are you in there?’ a familiar voice asks.
The next minute, the door is flung open from the other side, and Dina’s older brother is peering in at us from the doorway.
‘Maya … hey,’ Deen says, sounding and looking confused as his eyes flick from me to his sister. ‘Dina, I got your text. How long have you guys been stuck up here?’
‘Too long,’ Dina grumbles. She’s already pushing past me, past Deen, and down the stairs. I can only watch her go, feeling my heart squeeze in my chest with the same pain that she left me with nine years ago.
Chapter 16
Dina
Sixteen days to the match
I somehow manage to avoid Maya for the rest of the dawat, but that doesn’t mean that my mind doesn’t circle the last question she asked.You really think I haven’t thought about you since I left? She asked it with so much earnestness that it took me by surprise. I’ve always assumed that Maya was too busy living the life of a famous footballer to even remember me. I’ve imagined that she was making new friends, dating other football players … living it up and forgetting all about me, while I was the one left to pick up the pieces of our relationship.
But now, I wonder.
Still, I don’t want to spend any more time thinking about Maya than I have to. No matter what her life looked like when she was gone, she stillleft. So, instead of obsessing over Maya and our conversation, I decide to throw myself fully into the football team. We still have our upcoming match, and the days are counting down fast. We finally have a name, but no kit to speak of. Which is one of my first major problems to solve.
Deen suggests trying to find some kind of a sponsor who would fund our kit, but considering we’ve never played a match, I doubt that anybody would consider sponsoring us.Aisha, finally, suggests the best idea: if I could find some plain T-shirts, we could paint over them to resemble kits.
I end up calling Ma, hoping she can give me a list of discount shops where she used to get our cheap clothes back in the day.
‘Did you know Maya Alam was at the dawat the other day?’ Ma asks almost as soon as she picks up. Leave it to her to be late on the news cycle, despite literally being at that dawat.
‘Yeah, I saw her there. Ma, I called because—’
‘And she’s now retired. Who retires at twenty-eight?’ Ma sounds scandalised by the idea.
‘Well, football players retire early. They can’t play until they’re sixty-five.’
‘What’s she going to do now? She doesn’t even have a degree.’
