Dessi's Romance (28 page)

Jodie giggles loudly. ‘He’s
really cute.’

‘We’re just good friends,’
I insist, but Kaz goes bug-eyed.

‘He talked to Dessi for
ages at my party,’ Jodie says. ‘Until she threw up in my bathroom and her mum
had to take her home…’

‘Shut it, Jodes,’ Kaz
demands. ‘We’re talking about serious stuff here. So, what are you going to do
about it, Simps? Sulk for the next ten years? C’mon! Get real. That guy whoever
he is, he surely wasn’t worth it, that’s what I say. Dessi’s really upset.’

‘She keeps emailing,
texting,’ I grudgingly admit, because to be totally honest, I’m missing her
terribly.

‘Well, what does she say?’

‘Don’t know. I delete
them.’

‘Oh Em,’ Jodie says.
‘That’s so-o mean.’

Mean? I think of the many
responses I could make when I’m saved by Mum walking in with the shopping.
‘Hello, girls. How nice to see you! Emma, come and give me hand with these bags
will you? We’re having a special dinner tonight. To celebrate Emma and Sacha
getting into their unis and did Emma tell you Sacha’s about to become a top
model, a real celebrity…‘

‘Sacha’s
living
here?’ Kaz shrieks.

‘Didn’t you know?’ Julie
rattles on before I can shut her up. ‘Such a lovely young man, so helpful.’

I close my eyes. How am I
ever going to explain this?

‘Got to go, Mrs Simpson,’
says Kaz and drags Jodie along with her. ‘A word with you Em, if you please.’
And when we’re at the front gate: ‘Seems to me Simps, that you haven’t been
entirely honest. I think it’s time you forgave your best friend. I mean,’ she
waggles a finger, ‘Dessi‘s always been there for you, hasn’t she?’

I don’t answer. There’s
lots more of the same until they finally decide they’ve stayed long enough and
leave.

Then I’m busy helping Mum
prepare her celebratory dinner. As we hover between sink, table and stove I
say, ‘Mum, could you forgive Hannah if she did to you what Dessi did to me?’

She wipes her hands on a
towel. ‘I honestly don’t know.’

‘That’s a big help,
thanks.’

‘But I do know this,’ she
hurries on. ‘I couldn’t imagine life without having her as my friend. Women
need their female friends. We’re different from men.’

‘Yeah? Never actually
noticed.’

‘I mean it, Emma. You and
Dessi have something special. Don’t let this...this silly little upset spoil
everything between you. If Abdul had really cared about you,’ she goes on to
add, ‘he wouldn’t have done what he did. And I know from Hannah that Dessi is
terribly upset… ‘

‘Yeah, because he dumped
her too. Only I don’t know why.’

‘No, that’s not right.
Sure, Abdul’s upset her. But that’s only a fraction of it. She’s far more upset
about you and her falling out. Believe me, Emma. Can’t you get over it? He
turned out to be a bit of a bastard, leading both of you on, wouldn’t you say?’

‘I’ll think about it,’ I
say at last, still determined not to weaken, though this is becoming
increasingly difficult. I’m missing Dessi ever so terribly...

...Hannah announces that her immediate
boss is going to Perth and she’s been offered his position. To celebrate, we
eat dinner out. Dad wants to try a newly opened Middle-Eastern restaurant. I insist
we eat Italian. Even though Abdul lives on the other side of town, there’s
always the risk of running into him. What would I do if we did? What would I
say?

By now I’m wearing a less
intrusive surgical boot and next day I take my first driving lesson. All the
way to our local shopping centre Dad explains every move. ‘Planning a right
hand turn, watch out for cars cruising through yellow lights.’

‘Okay.’ I try to smile. But
these days my face feels permanently frozen.

He parks directly opposite
the supermarket.

Wasn’t this where Emma met
Abdul?

‘Dad, why we here?’

He points to the hardware
store beside the supermarket. ‘I need a fine screwdriver.’

I keep an eye on the street
via the rear vision mirror.

A couple emerge from the
supermarket.

My heart almost stops. I
feel sick. I wonder if I’m about to throw up. It’s Abdul... Abdul and a woman.
The woman must be his fiancée, Fatima Khouri. Even from here I can see how
pretty she is; tiny waist, slim arms, long legs, pale oval face under a
colourful scarf.

Why does she have to be so
drop-dead-gorgeous?

I slide under the dashboard
and pray that Abdul won’t look my way.

The couple head for his van
parked further down the street. As I watch him smile into her eyes, I firmly
resolve to never, ever fall in love again.

‘Love is a leech, a bloodsucking
vampire

Whose sole aim is to turn you into a
babbling idiot

with sightless eyes, deaf ears, and
helpless limbs.

All the way home, I barely hear a word
Dad says. In the end he gets really annoyed. ‘What’s up? Thought you were dying
to get your P’s?’

‘Sorry,’ I mutter. ‘My leg
aches too much to concentrate.’

Soon as I get inside, I
make another attempt to phone Emma. But when the answering machine clicks in, I
quickly hang up. I now know that what Leila told me is the absolute truth.
Abdul’s marriage has been arranged and bringing me home was his way of
protesting. It was just our mutual bad luck that he met Emma in the supermarket.
I suppose that in Emma’s usual way she came on so strong that he couldn’t
resist taking her up on it. Then I suppose that I also gave out enough positive
vibes for him to use me too. Though all this is hardly self-complimentary, deep
down I know it is the truth. If I can only get Emma to listen, perhaps, perhaps
she’ll be prepared to forgive me.

I phone Leila and tell her
what happened. Leila doesn’t sound surprised. Instead she’s openly sorrier for
Abdul than for the women he deceived. ‘Told you what it was all about,’ she
says. ‘And since we last spoke I’ve heard the family were so insistent on this
marriage, Abdul’s dad threatens to disown him if he doesn’t go through with it.
He really means it.’

‘I’m sure he does,’ I
murmur recalling Mr Malouf’s negative attitude.

‘Also,’ Leila continues.
‘Seems this Fatima Khouri is a bit of a drama queen…’ My ears prick up, ‘Tried
to OD because Abdul was rejecting her. So of course he had no choice but to go
through with it or have her death on his conscience.’

‘Poor Abdul,’ I find myself
saying.

‘I agree. Sometimes it’s
really interesting to know what’s happening at the other end.’ Her sigh echoes
over the line, ‘I mean it’s so easy for us kids to get hooked into doing the
right thing by our families. But then someone’s sure to end up a victim. In
this case I reckon it’s Abdul... maybe both Abdul and Fatima, if the marriage
doesn’t work out.’

Deep down, I can only
agree.

Abdul must have glimpsed me
too, because the very next morning he phones. When this happens I’m still half
asleep. ‘Uh…Dessi? Abdul here…’

My heart does a gallop and
nearly stops. ‘Yes,’ I say cautiously. I slowly sit up and wait to hear what he
has to say.

‘Er… just rang to see if
you’re okay. How’s your ankle?’

I manage to pull myself
together. How am I meant to respond? ‘I’m fine,’ I say doing my best to sound
normal. ‘My ankle… well it’s heaps better. I don’t use crutches anymore.’

‘That’s good…’ His voice
fades.

I think quickly. ‘Are you
okay?’

‘Look… I’m real sorry I
haven’t been in touch… Been busy… you know how it is… Work and stuff…’ he breaks
off. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve time for a coffee?’

I don’t answer right off.
How will I feel seeing him face to face? I think I can manage it, only not
where Graham or Hannah might walk in on me. This is something I have to do
alone. ‘Fine,’ I say at last. ‘But not here.’

‘Is Lygon Street okay…um…
how about the University Café?’

‘Right. I’ll be in there at
three.’

Using my walking stick, I
catch two trams to the cafe in Carlton. There I order a latte from a tired
looking waiter and ten minutes early, watch passers-by head down the street.
Not that I take any notice of them. I’m too busy trying to decide what I’m going
to say to Abdul.

I’m so into my thoughts,
when he does turn up, I almost don’t recognise him. He slides into the opposite
chair. We stare wordlessly at each other. Somehow to my less infatuated gaze,
he seems shorter, thinner, his skin sallower. There are zits on his chin, and
shadows under his eyes. A short haircut removes any angelic semblance he might
once have had.

Everything I see hints at
intense unhappiness. As my gaze rests on him I feel those old heady emotions
start up and then slowly, slowly begin to subside. Suddenly it’s hard to
believe that this rather ordinary guy was once so important that I was prepared
to sacrifice my best friend, my whole life, for him.

Abdul breaks the silence by
pointing to my empty cup. ‘Like another?’

I shake my head.

‘How are you? How’s your
ankle?’ he asks as if we haven’t been through this already. ‘Sorry I’ve been
too busy to call…’

But I’m sick of his lies.
‘Abdul, I’d like to clear things up between us. I know you’ve got a fiancée, I
know all about her. I know that’s why you haven’t been in touch.’

He just stares. ‘You do?’
His voice rises. ‘Uh… how come…’

‘Look,’ I say tiredly. ‘I
know you’ve been using me to protest against an arranged marriage.’

He turns to watch a group
settle at another table. Then still refusing to meet my gaze, he says, ‘I know
it sounds like that… I know it looks like I’m a first class shit. But it wasn’t
what I’d intended, you have to believe me.’ I have to strain to hear him over
the roar of passing traffic. ‘I really like Emma, really wanted to keep her as
a friend. But I like you more…well… I guess I love you... am still in love with
you... and I’m missing you like mad.’

He looks up and those
liquid eyes show such unhappiness, my heart turns over.

Before I can respond, he
says, ‘It’s just that my folks had this marriage all tied up, have had forever.
If I’d reneged there would’ve been hell to pay. I can’t do it to them, not
after everything they’ve been through. You see, their friends, the community,
would’ve held them responsible and the disgrace would have killed them. I
should never have involved you in my mess… It’s all my fault… I’m so sorry…’

To my astonishment tears
roll down his cheeks and he quickly wipes them away.

Suddenly I feel immensely
sorry for him, sorry for Abdul. Leila was right. His life has been all mapped
out. I know that if it was my choice, that in his place I would have defied my
parents, defied my religion, given up everything for him. Instead I feel sad
for what I now perceive as his weakness, his inability to stand up against his
community. I murmur something trite, tell him that I certainly understand and
wish him all the luck in the world. Then, because I’m curious, ‘Tell me about
your fiancée. What’s she like?’

There’s a slight pause.
‘Fatima… she’s called Fatima Khouri and she’s studying second year law at
Monash. My folks and hers are kind of related, like they come from the same
town and they’ve known each for generations. In the past the families have even
done business together.’

‘So…’ I can’t help the
ironic tone. ‘It was a done deal long before you met Emma and I came along.’

I can tell from his closed
expression that he doesn’t want to, or more to the point, doesn’t know how to
answer this. But at least he’s loyal enough not to mention any pressure Fatima
might have put on him.

As we stand up to leave,
his parting words are, ‘I’ll never forget you Dessi, never. I just want to
apologise and tell you how sorry I am things turned out this way. I just wish
things were different…’ and he reaches over to hug me.

For a long moment we cling
to each with the memory of what was, and what could have been, and I feel that
old electricity between us start up before he takes off down the street. All
this took under half an hour. But for me those few minutes are some of the most
important I’ll ever have to live through.

I watch him thread his way
through the crowd before he turns and gives me a quick wave. Then he’s out of
my life. Forever. From my perspective, I still view him as weak, as a coward.
But given the freedom I enjoy, given his situation would I have acted any
differently?

Soon as I get home I go
into the bathroom where I stare at my reflection. Is it my imagination or is my
face older, more mature, than when I left home this morning?

Using land-line I try
contacting Emma once again. Julie answers on the second ring. To my surprise
she says, ‘...really pleased you called. No, don’t give up. This no-talking has
gone on long enough. I’ll go fetch her.’