Trying to put it all out of my mind, I start to make my way back home.
The next day, Dina’s face stares at me from my computer screen. I spent enough time online stalking her after I left, but it’s been several years since I’ve looked through her Facebook posts (not that she ever posted much). She promptly deleted our old photos together from her profile back then anyway.
Her Facebook account doesn’t even exist anymore, and all I find is a sparsely used Instagram account, with a scattering of photos. There’s one from a year ago of Dina and her brother, Deen, standing side by side, grinning at the camera. Then another from several months ago – a selfie where she’s squeezed in the middle of two girls. The mostrecent picture she’s posted is of a bouquet of flowers on a table, and it makes my heart squeeze together painfully, though it really, really shouldn’t. She’s clearly dating someone, and it shouldn’t matter to me at all.
But for some reason, it does.
I close the lid of my laptop and take a deep breath, trying to erase Dina’s face from my mind, hard as it is. I knew being back would be difficult, and I knew that it wouldn’t be easy to steer clear of her. I just wasn’t expecting everything to rush up at me at once; the good memories, and then all of the bad ones too.
The creak of the door opening sounds from downstairs, and I stand up, hurrying down the stairs. Amma is at the front door, her hands full of groceries. I step forward, taking the bags off her as she smiles and turns to lock the door behind her. Carrying the bags into the kitchen, I set them down. Amma follows me in.
‘You don’t have to help me. I’m used to doing these things on my own,’ she says, shifting around the grocery bags. Her words send a little pang of regret through me. She and Abba shouldn’t have to do all of these things on their own. If I had been around the last couple of years, I could have helped them out. But I have been all the way across the ocean, and my parents have had nobody here. Even since I’ve been back, I’ve just been moping around the house.
‘I don’t mind helping,’ I say.
‘I thought you were going to try to catch up with some old friends?’ Amma asks.
That had been the plan, after all of Isabel’s encouragement, but after running into Dina, I’m not so sure about anything anymore.
‘They’re all probably busy.’ I shrug, while diving intoAmma’s grocery bags to pull out eggs and a loaf of bread and putting them away. ‘They’ve got jobs and families and lives.’ I think about Dina for a moment, wondering exactly what kind of a lifeshehas now.
‘Hmm.’ Amma frowns. She slowly starts putting vegetables into the fridge. ‘So you didn’t go out today at all?’
My stomach sinks at Amma’s line of questioning, like I can sense that she can see I’m going backwards again. I should be getting over everything, moving past my football days and trying to forge a life for myself here. And something as simple as seeing my ex-girlfriend in a coffee shop we both used to frequent shouldn’t be enough to send me spiralling.
‘Not yet …’
‘Maybe it’s time to start looking for some kind of a job. It could be a good way to get you out of the house. Your abba and I could help you find something.’ Amma offers me a hesitant smile. She’s still walking on eggshells around me and I hate it. When I was younger, Amma, Abba and I could always speak honestly with each other; I never felt like I had to hide anything from them. They knew almost every detail of my life, from school, to my friends, and even Dina. Amma was the first person I told about Dina, the first person that I ever came out to as bisexual.
But now, it feels like our relationship has become distant. Like the long distance between us for the past nine years has persisted, even though I’m home now.
‘I don’t even know what I’d do. I mean, it’s not like I have a university degree.’ It wasn’t something that bothered me when I was playing professionally. Other football players who had retired went on to coach professional teams, write books, take modelling contracts or sponsorship dealsfor sports drinks and gyms. But after the way I retired, I doubt any of these jobs will be coming my way any time soon. My options feel limited. Maybe even non-existent.
‘We can talk to some uncles and aunties. They’ll help find you something. You could … go to university, if you wanted. Your Malik uncle decided to do an undergrad in economics to help with the family business a few years ago, and he even got a mature-student scholarship to help pay the fees!’ Amma sounds excited at the idea of it, but I only feel a pit in my stomach. Starting fresh in university is not my idea of fun. I can’t even think of what I would want to study, and I haven’t been able to bring myself to envision a future where I don’t play football anymore.
‘I’ll figure something out,’ I promise Amma. I know that I have to.
Chapter 5
Dina
Fifteen years ago
‘Baba, come on! We’re. Going. To. Be. Late!’ I say, punctuating my words with subsequent knocks on the door. The clock in the hallway reads 7.45 a.m., which means that if we don’t leave the house within the next ten minutes, we’re definitely going to be late.
The door finally swings open, and Baba blinks at me tiredly. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair unkempt, though he’s changed out of his pyjamas at least.
‘I’m up, Dina.’ He stifles a yawn and shuffles past me towards the stairs.
I hold in the scream that has been building up in me for the past half-hour. For my friends, the first day of secondary school meant getting excited about wearing their new school uniform for the first time, making sure that they had their hair brushed to perfection and eating a hearty breakfast. For me, it was desperately trying to wake up my dad in time, after all of his overworking at the restaurant.
I follow Baba down the stairs, but instead of heading to the front door, he makes his way to the kitchen and starts up the kettle.
‘Baba, we really don’t have time for—’
‘It’ll just be five minutes, Dina,’ Baba mumbles betweena yawn. ‘I definitely shouldn’t be driving without having a cup of tea, at least. Don’t worry, we won’t be late.’
I check my watch, and I know that he is definitely wrong.
