Straightening Ali (6 page)

“
No, not really,” Ali replied sharply wanting to say more to defend his friend.

“
You’re lying! You mean you’ve never fucked that slut? What’s her name?” Yunus said pretending to have forgotten her name. “Oh yes, Haseena. A good-looking guy like you should be able to fuck an old slag like that. What the fuck’s wrong with you?” He looked at Ali and shook his head in disappointment.

“
There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s you who has the problem,” Ali retorted. He knew this would happen. He always suffered a barrage of abuse whenever he was alone with Yunus. “It’s my own fault,” Ali thought, “I should have kept quiet and not answered back.”

“
She’s a fat, old slag, but even I’d give her one. So what the fuck’s wrong with you?” He asked again in disgust. “I’ll hire you a prostitute. In fact, why don’t I pay that slut Haseena. You need to have sex with a woman before you get married. What will your wife think knowing you’re a fucking virgin? You need to know what you’re doing on your wedding night.”

“
It’s ok. I’m sure I’ll manage,” Ali said, repulsed by the suggestion. Ali had never slept with a woman, and since agreeing to the wedding was worried what might happen on the wedding night. He blocked the thought from his mind and decided to think about it some other time. Ali had become an expert at blocking upsetting thoughts like this lately.

“
You’re a virgin right? Being buggered by a man doesn’t count. You’re a virgin until you fuck a woman. That’s when you become a real man,” Yunus said using his twisted logic on Ali. “Don’t you feel the slightest bit ashamed of yourself? Doesn’t picking up men for sex in toilets make you feel dirty?”

“
What are you on about?” exclaimed Ali.

“
You gays meet in toilets, don’t you?” said Yunus more as a statement than a question.

“
Oh, you should see me on a Friday night. I’m always dressed up and ready to go round to the toilets in the city center,” Ali said sarcastically.

“
You dirty fucker,” said Yunus, failing to pick up the sarcasm in Ali’s voice. “Have you been skiing?”

“
Skiing? No,” said Ali feeling bewildered at the change of subject.

“
Skiing,” Yunus repeated, taking both hands off the steering wheel and gesturing with his hands as if he was holding two ski sticks. “It’s what you poofs always do together.”

“
Oh you mean threesomes. I’ve lost count,” Ali said inwardly appalled by his own replies, although for some reason he felt compelled to respond to Yunus, no matter how crude his own reply. He knew that he was cementing Yunus’s stereotype of gay men, but couldn’t find a way to end the conversation.

“
You’ll have to stop being a poof when you’re married. You can’t go around getting fucked up the arse by dirty old white men. It’s perverted. You should be ashamed of yourself,” he said. “When I have kids why should I have to always worry about letting you see them? I should be able to trust you, but I know what you poofs are like, you like to fiddle with children.”

“
You bastard,” Ali shouted angrily. “I’m gay, not a pedophile. I like men not children you idiot, and I certainly am not ashamed of what I am.” He couldn’t believe how Yunus was relating his sexuality to pedophilia.

“
You disgusting bastard! How could you say you like men? If dad was around he would have straightened you out. You’re lucky Mum won’t let me deal with you my way, otherwise you’d have two broken legs and be sitting at home in a wheelchair,” Yunus shouted back.

“
Try it, and we will see who’ll be going to prison,” shouted Ali. “We’re not in a village in Pakistan anymore.”

“
Do you really think you would be able to leave the house with broken legs? You wouldn’t get a chance to tell the police. We’d lock you up in a room. That’s what they do to people in Pakistan who fuck about like you. You’re so lucky Mum doesn’t understand that you’re a dirty fucker who can’t control himself. She thinks you’re influenced by the white society. She’s too old to understand what gay means.”

Ali stopped talking to him, hoping that his silence might encourage the verbal assaults to stop. He stared out of the window pretending to be interested in the scenery while Yunus droned on. They drove past a sign which indicated that they were fifteen miles away from Nottingham, making Ali wince inwardly as he wondered how much longer he would have to spend in the car with Yunus.

“
So why do you like being fucked up the arse by old men?” Yunus asked. Ali pretended not to hear him, but Yunus repeated the question, trying to bait Ali. When he failed to get a response he punched Ali and repeated the question again.

Ali finally snapped. “They pay me lots of money, that’s why I sleep with old men. Most of them aren’t white anyway. You should see the old Muslim guys with the beards. They’re my best customers. In fact they’re my regulars! I mean fifty pounds for an hour with me is a reasonable price, and the more they pay, the more willing I am.”

“
What! You’re a prostitute, a dirty fucking rent boy?” Yunus asked in shock, seeking confirmation of the revelation. His face was contorted horribly in disbelief.

“
Yes,” Ali said, knowing that his brother believed him. “I have regular clients, though. I don’t need to hang about the street, so don’t worry about my safety.”

“
You’re fucking with my head. You can’t be a rent boy,” Yunus said seeking assurance.

“
Why should I fuck with your head? There’s quite a market for us Pakistani boys. We’re seen as a bit exotic because there are so few of us gay ones about. We can get away with charging a little extra. How do you think I managed to buy my own car? You know I’m not good at saving,” Ali said, making his claim more plausible for his brother.

Yunus went quiet for a moment while mulling over Ali’s “revelation.” “So you’re not gay after all. You’re just a prostitute. You sleep with men for money, not because they turn you on, but because you want money. I see now. Do you need money that much? Ammi gives you lots of money, so why are you so desperate?”

Ali groaned, realizing his untruth had spawned another theory to explain his sexuality. “Whatever,” he muttered, not wanting to enter into another cycle of verbal abuse from Yunus.

This time the silence managed to sustain itself until Yunus stopped to refuel at a service station on the M1, just before the junction for Nottingham. Ali went with him to get himself a chocolate bar. “Walk like a man,” Yunus told him as Ali hurried away for a few minutes of respite from Yunus’s company.

Ali picked up a Kit Kat from the counter and paid for it. He smiled at the shop assistant when he was given his change, and walked past Yunus, deliberately ignoring him. Ali went outside to wait on the forecourt next to the car for Yunus.

It was nice to be out of the car and away from Yunus. The cool November air hit Ali’s face making him gasp, but it was refreshing in comparison to the stench in Yunus’s car. “What am I going to do?” he thought despairingly as he remembered where he was going. He didn’t have long to sink into his thoughts before Yunus returned.

“
Stop giving out gay signals you dirty bastard. You poofs, you can’t stop it can you?” Yunus said, getting into the car. Ali got in, unsure what Yunus was talking about. “I have a good mind to beat that poof in the shop up, but the garage has CCTV.”

“
What are you talking about?” Ali asked, still puzzled by Yunus’s comment.

“
The queer cashier. I saw you both giving each other gay signals. You should be ashamed of yourself. You’re seeing your fiancée today, but you can’t leave your gay ways behind,” Yunus said.

“
What do you mean? I was buying some chocolate and smiled at him when I paid. I was being polite, you stupid bastard,” Ali said furiously. “Just leave me alone. I hate you. The only reason I tolerate you is because we have the same mother and father.”

“
I’ll only leave you alone when you tell me you’re not going to be a fucking queer boy anymore,” Yunus said calmly. He smiled wickedly revealing his recently enameled white teeth.

“
Why are you so horrible to me? I’m doing everything that this family wants of me, but you still won’t leave me alone,” Ali exclaimed. “Why do you carry on like this all the time? What have I done to make you hate me so much?”

“
I don’t hate you. I love you. You’re my brother, and I’m looking out for you. I’m the head of the family, so it’s my duty to look after you all. It’s a bad world out there, and I don’t want you to be a poof all your life. It’s not right. I want you to be happy, get married and have children as much as Ammi does,” Yunus said, sounding sincere and actually making Ali half believe him.

“
You’ve just talked about what you want,” Ali said. “But you’ve not asked me what I want. I’ve never wanted to get married. I’ve never wanted children.”

“
You don’t know what you want, Ali. That’s why we’ve sorted everything out for you. Just leave it to your family. We will look after you,” he said caressing Ali’s shoulder caringly.

“
Leave me alone,” Ali said angrily, cringing from Yunus’s touch.

“
I have to make sure you don’t pick up men anymore. If I ever find out you are still getting fucked by men when you’re married, I’m going to break your legs. Promise me you won’t see any men,” he demanded.

Ali ignored him and allowed the rest of his words to disappear into the background with the noise of the car engine. It was pointless having a discussion with Yunus at the best of times, but today, he was at his worst.

Ali’s earliest memories of Yunus were of him stealing Ali’s milk bottle as a toddler. Years later, this had progressed to violent fights. Ali still carried scars on his hand from when Yunus had bitten him. Nothing had changed between them since childhood, except perhaps the dislike had become stronger.

“
We’re nearly there,” Yunus said, interrupting Ali’s thoughts. When we get there, you are to stay quiet. If you dare say anything out of order, I’ll sort you out, you dirty fuck. Go along with whatever your in-laws say. Don’t disagree with them. If you mention your dirty habits to anyone, I’ll kill you, and I’ll sort that bitch Haseena out as well. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“
Yes,” said Ali, cowed by his brother’s threat.

“
If you misbehave, it won’t just be your neck on the line. You know what my friends can do,” Yunus said threateningly. Ali knew exactly what Yunus’s friends were capable of. They were the type who wouldn’t hesitate in taking a baseball bat to someone to teach them a lesson, and Yunus had already settled some scores this way.

They turned the corner onto the street where Sajda’s parent’s lived. It was a quiet suburban street, unlike the busy road where Ali’s family lived. Yunus parked his car opposite their driveway. The house was built on an end plot. It was large and detached with a newly finished extension to the side that squeezed the gap between the neighboring property to a tight inch.

“
What shitty cars,” Yunus hissed noticing the two identical black BMW’s parked side by side on the red brick driveway as he got out of the car. The two cars were sparkling as if newly polished in order to exhibit the wealth and prestige of the family inside the house.

As Yunus set the immobilizer alarm on his car, Ali looked up and noticed the bedroom curtains twitch. He looked away quickly, then followed Yunus to the door, holding the gift box that his mother had given him for his fiancée. The front door was plastic and double-glazed. It had “Hussein” boldly written in green and red stained glass in the glass panel above.

“
Behave like a fucking man,” whispered Yunus and then pressed the doorbell firmly.

The door was opened by a short overweight woman, who looked to be in her late fifties. She had a round and full face that was wrinkled like old parchment, and her hair was jet black. It was obvious she had recently dyed it.

She ignored Yunus completely and grabbed hold of Ali, kissing him wetly on both of his cheeks, while shoving his face almost hungrily into her pendulous breasts. When she finally pulled away, Ali could feel a slight tenderness on his cheeks where her teeth had left indentations. “Yuck! She has buckteeth,” Ali thought, shocked at his own shallowness.

She pulled Ali into the house excitedly. “Welcome. Welcome, my son,” she cried in Urdu. Yunus stood at the doorstep looking unhappy at being ignored. Ali wondered if Yunus would react to this or whether he’d been warned to be on his best behavior by their mother. After a few moments, Yunus shrugged his shoulders angrily and followed them inside.

“
Buckteeth,” Ali thought unable to take his mind off his mother-in-law’s teeth. Despite his lack of enthusiasm for his forthcoming wedding, he couldn’t help but wonder whether his fiancée looked like the image on the photograph he’d seen or whether she resembled her mother. He found himself praying she hadn’t inherited her mother’s looks. Strange, but he hoped that his family had made a good match. Maybe it was a fair swap, a gay husband for a rabbit-faced wife.