Chapter 14 Dina
Dina
Twenty days to the match
‘I thought you said you didn’t think they were ready to play against another team,’ Jen states once we’re away from Maya and her awful team.
I can tell – even though Jen doesn’t say it – that she’s disappointed in the way I behaved.
That it’s reminded her of old times, when Maya and I were more obsessed with beating each other in any way we could than figuring out how to work together to play the best we could.
‘I underestimated them.’ My voice sounds a little too defensive.
‘Hm,’ is all Jen says.
The two of us round up the team, and Jen goes into a lecture about how she expects all of us to be better behaved, even when she’s not around – especially when she’s not around.
‘Sportsmanship is something that all football players should know. We compete on the football pitch, not off it.’ Jen looks at me when she says that, and I glance down at my feet, studying the colours of my boots, instead of dealing with her judgement.
This is the tried-and-tested phrase she used to say to me and Maya all the time.
Clearly, it wasn’t one of the things we took away from Jen’s coaching.
‘We’re still going to play them, aren’t we?’ Sophie asks once Jen is finished speaking. It’s clear that that’s the team’s main concern.
‘Well …’ Jen looks between me and the girls. ‘It’s not until the end of the summer. And if we feel that we’re ready by then, I suppose we could.’
‘We can play some practice matches, against other teams. To … get ready,’ I pipe up. ‘You said you could arrange that, right?’
Jen’s frown deepens. ‘I could. But—’
‘Yes, let’s do that!’ Sara interrupts. She’s bouncing on her feet at the idea, and even the other girls seem excited.
‘Did you guys come up with a team name?’ I ask. ‘Because we’ll need that if we’re going to play for real.’
‘We did!’ Jade is grinning from ear to ear.
She looks to her teammates, and they nod, silently indicating that they are all in agreement.
It’s the first time I’ve seen them behave like this.
Warmth radiates through me at the sight.
They aren’t just girls playing football for the council anymore – they are a team.
‘The Divas!’ Jade says excitedly. ‘Because of Beyoncé, obviously.’
‘Obviously,’ I say. It’s not the name that I would have picked, but it’s not my team. It’s theirs. ‘I like it.’
I look to Jen. ‘I guess the Divas are playing a few matches. And we’re going to be in it to win it.’
‘I don’t understand why Ma has her heart set on going to this thing,’ I find myself grumbling on Saturday afternoon. I’m hovering in the hallway of her house, dressed in one of my best salwar kameezes.
Deen glances at himself in the mirror, running his fingers through his black hair, until it looks just tousled enough to not be picture perfect.
‘You’re the one who’s always telling her she needs more of a social life,’ he says.
I roll my eyes, because it feels like maybe Deen is the one who needs a social life, considering he spends so much of his time holed up in the family restaurant, still dreaming about making it his own.
‘Besides, it’ll be nice for you to stop overworking yourself with your new football team. Take a break or you’ll wear yourself out before you even get to the match with Maya.’
I guess Deen is right about that. Since agreeing to the match with Westbrook, the Divas have been on overdrive.
I’ve already started setting up matches for them, but to actually do well in them we have to practise.
Even on days when we don’t have practice, I’ve been suddenly looking through different plays and searching for teams who might match the Divas on their level – to give them a little confidence boost as they get started in competing.
I have a feeling, too, that some of them have been making time to practise on their own.
There have been a couple of times passing through Victoria Park that I’ve seen Sophie and Sara kicking a ball around between them.
I feel a tingle of satisfaction at the thought of them falling in love with football, just like I did at their age.
I shrug now, because Deen is right. I don’t want to wear myself out, and I don’t want the team to be worn out either. The match isn’t until the end of the month, which isn’t a ton of time, but it’s enough time. Or at least it has to be.
‘Ma, we’re going to be late!’ I call up to her, just as she starts descending down the stairs. She’s wearing a black-and-white sharee, and she gives me a frown as she takes me in.
‘You couldn’t have worn something nicer? The girls your age that come to these things wear nice sharees,’ Ma complains.
I sigh. Sharees have never exactly been my cup of tea.
Ma has had to drape mine the few times I’ve worn one because I can never quite get it right.
Besides, the other ‘girls my age’ are newly-weds with wardrobes full of gifted sharees.
I only have a couple of Ma’s old ones, collecting dust in the back of my wardrobe.
‘Look at your brother, so handsome!’ Ma says, reaching up to pinch his cheeks like he’s still a kid and not a grown man.
I roll my eyes. I’ve just had to accept the fact that Ma and Deen are closer than ever since Deen moved in with Ma after Baba’s passing. It’s not like Deen wasn’t already a bit of a mama’s boy to begin with.
Thankfully, Ma doesn’t dilly-dally for long, and soon the three of us are piled into the beaten-up Toyota that used to belong to Baba.
Deen weaves us through the busy streets and in just an hour we arrive outside Isra Auntie’s house. We’re clearly late because there’s already a pile of cars in and around her driveway, and we can hear the sound of music, talk and laughter drifting out through the window.
Deen parks the car on the kerb and we climb out, Ma complaining the entire time about how we’re late.
‘If we miss those shomuchas that Isra serves as nasta …’ Ma says in a threatening voice, like it’s anyone’s fault but hers that we’re late.
‘I’m sure she’ll have saved some for you, Ma. She knows you’re crazy about them,’ Deen reassures her.
We follow her to the front door, the noise getting louder and louder as we approach. It’s a wonder that anybody hears the sound of Ma ringing the doorbell, but only seconds later, the front door flies open. Isra Auntie stands on the threshold, her eyes lighting up as she takes the three of us in.
‘Aminah bhabi!’ she says, throwing an arm around Ma. She smiles brightly at Deen and me before ushering us in.
The dawat is already in full swing. I spot a few uncles in the sitting room loudly discussing the state of Bangladeshi politics.
They smile and wave as we pass by, mumbling friendly greetings before going back to their discussion.
I can’t help but feel a little twinge of pain.
If Baba were alive, he would be here with these uncles, discussing the restaurant, this country’s economy, the upcoming Bangladeshi election and everything in-between.
I try to shake those thoughts off me as Deen and I follow Isra Auntie and Ma to the kitchen.
Several aunties are standing around in groups, discussing kids’ exam results, new jobs, promotions and wedding prospects.
They barely even notice when we walk in, which is probably good because Ma seems less interested in them and more interested in the snacks laid out on the table.
She immediately dives for the shomuchas.
I smile at her antics, but there’s a thread of worry there too.
I wonder if she’s so preoccupied with the shomuchas and the food because she can’t exactly engage the aunties in boasting about me and Deen.
Unlike their kids, Deen and I aren’t succeeding at life, and unfortunately everybody knows it.
Determined not to seem antisocial, though, Deen and I mingle with some of the ‘kids’ our age – the few that still show up to these dawats and aren’t too busy living their fabulous adult lives.
Lina tells me about her recent engagement and invites me to her wedding in a few months’ time, while Inam informs me about the new promotion at work, and how she and her husband are looking to buy a house, now that they can finally afford the down payment on a place.
I smile through both conversations, trying to feign the appropriate amount of enthusiasm while feeling my insides contort a little with despair.
But it’s not until I turn to speak to Zulaykha that I really start feeling despondent.
‘Hey, Zulaykha, long time no see,’ I say, approaching her after Inam dashes off to say hello to some of her friends.
Zulaykha turns to me, a smile crinkling her eyes.
‘Dina, hey,’ she greets me. And then the person next to her turns too – no trace of a smile in her eyes at all. Maya.
‘Dina.’ Maya’s voice is clipped and terse.
I stop mid-approach, unsure of whether I should keep trying to make small talk with Zulaykha or if I should cut my losses and run, though it would be a pretty odd thing to do at this stage.
It doesn’t help either that the sight of Maya makes my breath hitch, and my throat dry up completely.
Because while I’ve seen Maya since she left for America, I haven’t quite seen her like this.
She’s dressed in a lavender sharee that seems to cling to her just perfectly.
The almost translucent material bares just a hint of skin where it skims across her midriff and rests over her shoulders; her long black hair hiding the rest. In all the years that I’ve known Maya, I’ve never seen her like this. She looks grown up, mature. She looks …
I gulp, trying to do away with the sudden dryness on my tongue.
‘Maya … hey. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.’
‘Right? Me neither!’ Zulaykha says, though, unlike me, she’s clearly delighted by the surprise. ‘I knew she was back, but I figured she was too much of a celebrity these days for the likes of us. You should hear her stories, Dina. You used to be into football, right? I bet you’d love them.’
I almost wince, and even Maya seems uncomfortable by the turn in the conversation from the way she ducks her head instead of looking at me again.
‘I have to go find my brother. It was nice seeing you,’ I mumble, knowing it’s barely an excuse, and turn around.
That’s enough socialising, I think to myself, as I go in search of Deen.
He’s hovering by some of the uncles, awkwardly nodding and smiling as they loudly talk over him about what they think he should do with the restaurant.
He catches my eye across the hallway, and it’s almost like he can see the panic in me.
He mumbles something to the uncles and sidles over to me.
‘What’s up?’
‘Maya’s here.’
Deen’s eyes widen with the appropriate amount of surprise. ‘You saw her?’
‘I talked to her,’ I say, though I’m not sure if that brief exchange could really qualify as talking.
‘Honestly, maybe I should leave. I don’t know why I came here anyway.
I should be focusing on the football match coming up and I still don’t know how I’m going to get kit for the Divas, because Jen says there’s no funding for it, and if we don’t have kit then—’
Deen’s hand on my shoulder interrupts me. When I meet his gaze, he gives me a sympathetic smile. ‘Dina, you are spiralling. And you can’t leave, we just got here, and we haven’t even eaten yet. We all drove together, remember?’
‘Right.’ I glance back to where I can now make out Maya and Zulaykha, still engaged in conversation, Maya’s back turned away from me.
‘There are a lot of people here. You can avoid her.’ Deen sounds confident about that, so I nod, mostly because I don’t really have any other choice but to try to avoid her.
‘Yeah, I’ll just stay away from her. Actually, I’m just going to go to the bathroom.’ And stay there for as long as possible, I think but don’t say out loud.
I stumble in my small pencil heels up the stairs and to the small bathroom on the right, closing the door behind me.
I don’t actually have to use the bathroom, of course, but it’s nice to be away from all the noise and hustle and bustle for even a moment.
Up here, away from the rest of the dawat, the sound from downstairs is muffled.
I close the lid of the toilet and sit down on top of it, trying to calm my heart, which has been beating a little too fast since I spotted Maya.
Maybe I should have expected to see her socially now that she’s back.
Of course, she would want to get back to her social life – see her old friends, go to the same dawats that her parents used to drag her to when she was younger.
When we were kids, we didn’t really attend the same dawats, but we had the occasional run-ins.
In the beginning, it was always strange to see her away from school, though even at dawats she was always the image of perfection.
While I always felt like I was on the outside looking in.
And then, for a while, I wanted to run into her everywhere and anywhere.
We would use dawats to sneak off and find our own little corner; sharing secrets and giggling in hushed voices so nobody else would be privy to us.
A shiver runs down my spine at those memories, as if that Maya is here right now, like I can still feel the heat of her body beside mine; the prickle of her touch making my skin break out into a fresh bout of goosebumps.
I shake my head, trying to rid myself of those memories, just as a loud knocking sound comes from outside. I guess that’s as much time as I get to myself in the bathroom.
Getting up, I take a deep breath and unlock the door.
As luck would have it, the person on the other side of the door is none other than Maya.