Chapter 29 Dina
Dina
Three days to the match
I spot Maya through the glass doors of the cafe. She’s sitting on one of the couches to the side, her black hair swept out of her face, a frown on her lips as she stares at her phone.
I have half a mind to turn around and just go back home. Despite what I said to Maya about the two of us starting something being a bad idea, I’ve spent the past few days doing little else but thinking about her.
Taking a deep breath, I push the door open and step inside. Maya must hear it, because she turns towards me as soon as I’m inside. A hint of a smile crosses her face, and I ignore the fact that it makes my heart skip a beat.
I march towards her as nonchalantly as I can.
‘Hey,’ Maya says.
‘Hi.’ I take the seat opposite her, trying not to show her just how much simply being in her presence these days rattles me. ‘You wanted to talk?’
‘Yes … did you want to get something?’ She looks from the steaming cup of coffee in front of her to the menu on the wall on the other side of the room.
‘No, I’m okay.’ A cup of coffee would be good just to distract myself, but it would probably also make me even more jittery than I already am.
‘OK, well … have you seen the newspaper lately? And your player Jade’s Instagram?’ Maya asks, her frown returning.
I wonder if that’s what she was looking at before. I should have known this is what Maya wanted to talk about.
‘Yes.’ I sigh. The whole match has blown up more than I wanted it to.
Clearly, more than Maya wanted it to either.
I’ve even had a conversation with Jade, but she just shrugged and said that if they were going to show Westbrook that they were a real team, they might as well have an audience for it.
I hadn’t pointed out the fact that the Divas have yet to win a single match, not wanting to crush their spirits.
And it’s not like I can dictate Jade’s social media.
‘We have to do something about it. I spoke to Ms Jacobs, and she’s invited people from school – parents, students, teachers,’ Maya says, sounding a little distraught.
‘Who knows how many people are going to show up? And Jade isn’t slowing down with her posts.
’ She holds up her phone to show me Jade’s latest viral post. She has started counting down the days to the match now, and the people in her comments are loving it.
‘Jade is passionate about the match,’ I say.
‘All the players on my team are. That’s why they’re posting about it.
I can’t ask them to stop.’ I don’t mention that it has taken a lot to get them to care even a minuscule amount about football, and while I’m not a fan of what they are choosing to do now that they are invested, I’m proud of them too for how far they’ve come.
‘You’re their coach. You can tell them to stop,’ Maya insists. ‘Or Jen can. Maybe we should talk to her.’
I shake my head. ‘No way. We’re not dragging her into this. She didn’t even want this match to happen. Besides, Jade’s not hurting anyone with her posts, she’s just hyping people up.’
Maya’s frown just deepens with every word I say. I try to meet her halfway.
‘I’m not happy about the attention either,’ I say. ‘Clearly. But … it is what it is.’
Maya takes hold of her cup of coffee, lifting it to her lips and taking a long sip, before putting it down on the table between us with a little more oomph than necessary. Some of the coffee spills over from the cup, sliding down the edges and onto the saucer under the cup.
‘I think we should call off the match,’ Maya says. I have thought about calling off the match too, but I can’t admit that to Maya. I don’t think the Divas would take it very well, either.
‘I don’t know …’
‘Do you really want your team’s loss to be announced in the local papers, to be seen by everyone?’ Maya asks.
It’s my turn to frown as I turn over what she’s said in my head.
Our loss.
Not hers.
‘Are you serious?’ I ask, settling her with a glare.
Her eyes flicker up to mine, and I can see the glint of realisation about what she’s said dawn on her. She said it so inconsequentially – like there is no other outcome that she can even imagine.
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘Clearly you did,’ I huff. ‘Look, we’re not calling off the match, because your team are the ones who bullied mine, and my team deserve a chance to prove that they’re good. I’m sorry if the great Maya Alam is afraid of losing face in front of an audience, because I’m not.’
Maya sighs again, and leans back in her seat, looking at me. She doesn’t even try to defend herself.
‘Are we going to talk about the other night, or just fall back into old patterns?’ she asks coolly.
My stomach drops, but I try not to let it show that she’s fazed me with the sudden subject change. ‘I don’t know what that has to do with anything.’
‘Isn’t it the whole reason why we’re doing this? Our teams are caught up in our feud?’
‘We don’t have a feud,’ I say firmly.
Maya just continues to stare me down, but I don’t cave in.
I’m definitely not going to admit that I’ve thought about her every day for the past nine years, that I’ve obsessed over her career and our past, and everything that we had and everything that we don’t have anymore.
I was already too vulnerable with her the other night, after working to build up my walls for years and years on end.
I’m not ready for Maya to hurt me again. For anything to hurt me again.
After what feels like an eternity, Maya looks away from me and shakes her head, like she’s disappointed in my response.
‘You know, the other night, I was happy for a second,’ she says.
‘I thought that maybe things could be good between us again, but I should have known that it was just some kind of a blip. Things with you are always like that.’
I frown. ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’
‘It means that this is how it always is with you. As soon as things get complicated, that’s the end for you. That’s what it was like last time. You broke my heart, and I won’t forget that.’
My eyes widen at her insinuations – that I’m somehow the problem, was ever the problem in our relationship. ‘I broke your heart? What about you? You betrayed me, you took my spot, you took my dream. And then you just left. For nine years. You can’t just … revise history.’
‘I played a match, I was given an opportunity,’ Maya says. ‘And I took it. You could have still had your dream, we could have still been together. We could have had the life that we talked about. You were the one that gave up. You sabotaged yourself.’
Maya says all of this so calmly, like she’s reciting some history book, instead of sharing a twisted version of what really happened.
I can’t believe that after so many years there’s not a hint of remorse from Maya.
A thread of anger makes its way through me, boiling in my blood and making my face burn up.
‘I can’t believe this is the bullshit you tell yourself to make yourself feel better,’ I manage to spit out.
Maya holds my gaze for a moment, before swiftly standing up. ‘I’ll see you at the match, Dina.’
With that, she turns around and walks out of the door, disappearing from sight. I can only watch after her, my rage almost spilling out of me.
I stomp my way to the restaurant, my head still spinning with all of the things that Maya said. I have half a mind to storm after her, to say my piece. But I don’t even know what I would say since my head has been a slew of angry gibberish.
‘You’re early,’ Deen says, looking up from where he’s sitting on the floor, surrounded by a pile of stuff that I’ve never seen before.
‘What’s all this?’ I ask, picking up a decorated red clay pot from the pile.
Deen clambers up to standing with a triumphant grin. ‘I went to a couple of charity shops, hoping that I could find some decor items to spruce up the place.’
‘And you found all of this?’ I ask, studying some of the items. They certainly don’t look like things from a London charity shop – more like knick-knacks you might find in Bangladesh: a slightly beaten-down rickshaw figurine, a hand-painted spinning top, a gaudy beaded wall hanging.
‘No!’ Deen exclaims. ‘Well, a couple of the things. But I had a brilliant idea when I was there, and I got in touch with some of the aunties and uncles around the neighbourhood. I scrounged some of their stuff. They weren’t doing anything with it, and everyone had things.
Stuff they bought from Bangladesh, stuff from weddings and holuds …
they were probably just going to toss it all at some point, but now I get to give it all a second life here! ’
It’s a good idea, I have to give him that. Bengali weddings are usually a whole affair, and while the decor sometimes gets passed around from one wedding to the other, there’s so much stuff that’s thrown out too.
‘I like it,’ I say with a conclusive nod. ‘So, you want to tell me where you want all of this?’
‘I’m still figuring it all out,’ Deen says, looking around the restaurant. ‘Still developing my vision.’
‘Well, while you’re getting your vision,’ I say, ‘do you have any food lying around? I’m starving.’ The conversation with Maya has left me with a strange sort of emptiness. I might as well try to fill it with some of Deen’s cooking.
‘Sure, there should be some leftover korma in the fridge …’ Deen tilts his head towards me. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine.’ I wave my hand dismissively, making my way to the kitchen and grabbing some korma and polau.
Sticking it in the microwave, I heat up the food, and head back to the main restaurant area, taking a seat at one of the tables.
Deen is now holding a dhol in one hand, and a painted pakha in the other, frowning at both in consideration.
‘What do you think about putting the pakha on one of the walls, and maybe the dhol on the windowsill?’ Deen asks, looking over at me.
‘Let’s try it,’ I say.
Deen goes over to one side of the restaurant, holding the painted hand fan up to the wall. I nod in approval, and Deen puts it aside, trying the replica Bengali drum on the windowsill next.
He turns to me again as I chew on my food quietly.
‘You really aren’t going to tell me what’s wrong?’
‘Who said something was wrong?’ I ask.
‘Well, you’re usually way more opinionated about things,’ Deen points out.
‘I just gave my opinion,’ I insist.
‘Yeah, no … you agreed with my opinions. Different things,’ Deen says. He marches towards me and sits down right next to me. ‘Once you tell me what’s wrong, I might stop pestering you about it, and we can get back to the real work.’
I sigh. I know that Deen won’t leave me alone until I spill, so I start to speak.
At first, I think I’ll only tell him about the conversation with Maya, but before I know it, I’m telling him everything.
Her team bullying mine, how we came to agree to the match in the first place.
The other night at Maya’s house, the kiss.
And, finally, the conversation we just had, which left me boiling with rage.
As I get to the end, I’m practically crushing the food on my plate with my hands and glowering down at it.
‘I just can’t believe she has the gall to say all of that to me. I feel like she only wanted to speak so she could … act like she was better than me, and act like I was the problem, when it’s clearly her,’ I finish off.
Deen is contemplative for a moment, and silence washes over us. Speaking everything aloud does make me feel at least a little bit better.
‘I’m not saying that I agree with Maya …’ Deen starts.
I turn my head towards him so fast that I almost get whiplash. ‘You’re agreeing with Maya?’
‘I said I wasn’t!’ Deen replies, holding his hands up as if in surrender. ‘But I always wondered why you took it so hard that she got offered that spot in the US. And why you decided to give up football right then and there.’
‘Because … because it was tainted. Forever. After what Maya did. She … she knew how much that match, and that opportunity, meant to me. And she still took it.’
‘But it wasn’t yours,’ Deen says. ‘I mean, you were injured. You were never going to get that opportunity. And Maya is right, you could have still had a career. I mean, Jen was clearly obsessed with you – she still is. She would have done everything in her power to make sure you got more opportunities. You could have played in university; you could have tried out for teams. You could have gone down a million paths, but you didn’t. ’
‘Because Maya ruined it for me,’ I say firmly, but my confidence in that statement is quickly dwindling.
I’d been so angry at Maya that day, but I’d been angry at more than that.
I’d been angry at the scouts for thinking of me as so disposable, angry at Jen for letting Maya be given that opportunity over me, angry at myself for getting hurt. Angry at the world for all of it.
And maybe I’d let the anger get the better of me. It was easier to blame Maya than to accept that I’d lost out on something I’d dreamed about for years. It was easier to blame her than to risk failing again. Easier to blame her than to go after my dreams.
‘I just think it was more complicated than that.’ Deen shrugs, as if reading my thoughts. ‘And maybe you should think about what Maya said, and not just jump to anger like you usually do.’
‘I don’t—’ I start to say angrily, before cutting myself off and taking a deep breath. ‘Yeah, maybe.’
Deen raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised that something he’s said has actually got through to me.