can’t tie your shoelaces without my help,” said Rehan. “I’m just babysitting you until you finally wear Vanessa down enough and she adopts your sorry arse. I’ve been telling her to run.”
The night air was cold when they spilled out onto the pavement. Sven and Vanessa looked away when Rehan took off his sweater and gave it to Amal. They said goodbye at the tube station, a fast train whistling through on the platform and forcing them to pantomime their goodbyes. “I’ll take you home,” Rehan said quietly as their friends walked to the other platform. They did not speak on the tube ride, and then had to run up the escalator to catch the next train back to Trenton, laughing as they collapsed in seats across the aisle from one another, just a moment before the last whistle blew and the train pulled heavily away from the station.
“Listen, don’t mind what Sven says. All that stuff he said at dinner, that was a different time.”
“Hey, I’m not saying anything,” she said with a smile, but she saw a tick in the corner of his mouth, and a spot of pink in his cheeks.
“Really, I mean it. That was not who I am now.” He looked out of his window for the rest of the train journey, only turning back to smile quickly at her as they reached their destination.
When they got off the train at Trenton, he jammed his hands into his pockets and walked briskly, and she had to quicken her pace to keep up with him. He stood at the top of the driveway as she reached the door. When she turned around, he waved. “Your sweater,” she remembered, beginning to tug it off.
“Give it to me tomorrow. See you at seven,” he said.
“Yes, see you.”
She closed the door, feeling tightness in her throat. She pulled off the sweater and kicked off her shoes. She walked straight upstairs to the bathroom where she slowly and thoroughly moved every spot of make-up.
Chapter 9
As the train picked up speed, Amal watched the white picket fence of Trenton’s train station become a blur, like a line of falling dominoes. The trees that lined the avenue below swept past in a curtsey of branches. Rehan was sitting opposite her, reading a copy of yesterday’s paper that had been left behind when they took their seats. Amal could see that a few of the crossword answers had been filled in decisive handwriting, the corresponding clues crossed out with neat lines. He had greeted her with a big smile this morning, and he was talkative now, reading out lines from his paper and asking her about Darlington.
The carriage was half-full. The rush hour crowd had already taken their coffee and briefcases and spilled into the streets like an army of ants, leaving the carriages like empty shells on the platform. She had always loved traveling at this hour. She could hear a small child talking precociously to a woman who was asking questions in a warm, polite voice. There was a second, matter-of-fact voice that must belong to the mother, Amal realized. Across the aisle from Amal and Rehan, there was a thin, bearded man and a dark-haired woman sitting opposite one another, signing furiously to each other and laughing deeply, without a sound. Amal watched them and smiled, but they did not notice her. When they rose to get off at the next stop, the woman swayed with the lurch of the braking train carriage, and the young man steadied her with his arms around her belly, and Amal was just able to see the tips of his fingers slipping inside the front of her jeans. She looked away.
“How long since you’ve been back?” Rehan had put the paper aside and was looking at her. The previous evening, after the slideshow, Mirza Uncle had asked Rehan to accompany Amal back to her parents’ home. There had been no question in Mirza Uncle’s mind that his niece would not return to Trenton directly, and Amal had been surprised to realize that she had not considered this idea either. She did need some more of her clothes and a decent hairdryer.
“Nearly
The night air was cold when they spilled out onto the pavement. Sven and Vanessa looked away when Rehan took off his sweater and gave it to Amal. They said goodbye at the tube station, a fast train whistling through on the platform and forcing them to pantomime their goodbyes. “I’ll take you home,” Rehan said quietly as their friends walked to the other platform. They did not speak on the tube ride, and then had to run up the escalator to catch the next train back to Trenton, laughing as they collapsed in seats across the aisle from one another, just a moment before the last whistle blew and the train pulled heavily away from the station.
“Listen, don’t mind what Sven says. All that stuff he said at dinner, that was a different time.”
“Hey, I’m not saying anything,” she said with a smile, but she saw a tick in the corner of his mouth, and a spot of pink in his cheeks.
“Really, I mean it. That was not who I am now.” He looked out of his window for the rest of the train journey, only turning back to smile quickly at her as they reached their destination.
When they got off the train at Trenton, he jammed his hands into his pockets and walked briskly, and she had to quicken her pace to keep up with him. He stood at the top of the driveway as she reached the door. When she turned around, he waved. “Your sweater,” she remembered, beginning to tug it off.
“Give it to me tomorrow. See you at seven,” he said.
“Yes, see you.”
She closed the door, feeling tightness in her throat. She pulled off the sweater and kicked off her shoes. She walked straight upstairs to the bathroom where she slowly and thoroughly moved every spot of make-up.
Chapter 9
As the train picked up speed, Amal watched the white picket fence of Trenton’s train station become a blur, like a line of falling dominoes. The trees that lined the avenue below swept past in a curtsey of branches. Rehan was sitting opposite her, reading a copy of yesterday’s paper that had been left behind when they took their seats. Amal could see that a few of the crossword answers had been filled in decisive handwriting, the corresponding clues crossed out with neat lines. He had greeted her with a big smile this morning, and he was talkative now, reading out lines from his paper and asking her about Darlington.
The carriage was half-full. The rush hour crowd had already taken their coffee and briefcases and spilled into the streets like an army of ants, leaving the carriages like empty shells on the platform. She had always loved traveling at this hour. She could hear a small child talking precociously to a woman who was asking questions in a warm, polite voice. There was a second, matter-of-fact voice that must belong to the mother, Amal realized. Across the aisle from Amal and Rehan, there was a thin, bearded man and a dark-haired woman sitting opposite one another, signing furiously to each other and laughing deeply, without a sound. Amal watched them and smiled, but they did not notice her. When they rose to get off at the next stop, the woman swayed with the lurch of the braking train carriage, and the young man steadied her with his arms around her belly, and Amal was just able to see the tips of his fingers slipping inside the front of her jeans. She looked away.
“How long since you’ve been back?” Rehan had put the paper aside and was looking at her. The previous evening, after the slideshow, Mirza Uncle had asked Rehan to accompany Amal back to her parents’ home. There had been no question in Mirza Uncle’s mind that his niece would not return to Trenton directly, and Amal had been surprised to realize that she had not considered this idea either. She did need some more of her clothes and a decent hairdryer.
“Nearly
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