Chapter 9 #2
‘Actually, it’s anything but. I’m having a great time, they all seem to think of me as royalty.
All because of your cousin here.’ He bumped his shoulder against Reshma’s and was rewarded with a flaring of her nostrils.
‘She’s their golden child, so I automatically get to pass go and collect two hundred. ’
Haniya laughed, as did the other woman beside her, who was breaking off small pieces of chicken and putting them into her baby’s mouth. Said baby was more interested in playing with the bangles on the mother’s wrists. Reshma stretched her lips but refrained from reacting or saying anything.
‘Oh, this is Uncle Imtiaz’s niece, Fatima, by the way. Fatima, in case it wasn’t obvious, this is Reshma’s husband, Zafar Saeed. That firecracker of a lady you met earlier? She is his grandmother.’
‘Oh God. Please tell me she didn’t say anything outrageous. I apologise on her behalf if she did.’ Zafar hung his head jokingly.
Fatima laughed. ‘Nothing of the sort. She’s amazing. She was talking to my four-year-old son, Haroon, telling him that she has a grandson with the same name and that he’s an absolute menace, though he can’t use age as his excuse anymore.’
‘I can attest to that.’
They spoke about inconsequential things while they all ate, Reshma hmming non-committally here and there. When they had finished, Fatima left to clean her baby up, Haniya offering her the use of one of the rooms and leading her to it.
A waiter came around with a tray bearing tea and coffee and they each grabbed a hot drink, as he took the empty plates away on the same tray.
As soon as the waiter moved away and before Zafar had the chance to utter a single syllable, a little boy raced towards them, a piece of paper held in one hand and a few crayons clutched in the other.
‘Reshma! Reshma!’ He came full pelt towards her and landed against her knees as she moved her cup of tea to the side to avoid spilling it. ‘Look. I drew a picture.’ He pushed the heavily crinkled piece of paper towards her and, smiling down at the child, she took it in her other hand.
‘Let’s see what you’ve drawn.’ She held the paper in front of her and Zafar saw nothing more than colourful streaks and odd shapes, certainly nothing he could make out.
‘That’s lovely, Haroon. Who is it for?’
So, this was Haroon. Zafar watched their interaction with amusement, as he took a sip of his coffee.
The boy smiled at her shyly. ‘You.’ He pointed at the big blue blob on the page. ‘That’s me. And this is you.’ He pointed to a slimmer and longer yellow blob. ‘When I grow up, I’m going to marry you.’
Zafar spluttered his mouthful of coffee out and both Reshma and her barely-two-feet-tall Romeo looked at him in alarm.
He cleared his throat and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.
Eyes wide, Reshma handed him a napkin from her lap and, after nodding in thanks, he took it and dabbed his mouth before blurting out, ‘Sorry, mate. She’s already married.
To me. You’ll have to find someone else.
Reshma’s my wife.’ He winked at the child, unable to keep the playful note out of his voice.
Reshma’s eyes were as wide as saucers, but Haroon 2.
0 looked ready for a fight. His legs were apart as he stood there, positioning himself closer to Reshma as he faced Zafar and there was a fierce scowl on his face.
‘No, she’s not. Reshma’s going to marry me because I love her and I drew her a picture with her favourite colour. ’
Zafar bit the inside of his cheek, not wanting to laugh but finding the child’s argument about why he was the better prospect endearing.
If he’d been old enough, Zafar might have had some serious competition.
He raised his eyebrow as he regarded his adversary, but before he could say anything, Reshma intervened.
‘Did you have your dinner, Haroon?’
He turned to face Reshma and his expression switched from serious to smitten in a heartbeat as he nodded.
‘Would you like to have some pudding? Let’s go and find your mummy and see if we can get you some pudding.
Let’s get you away from the crazy man while we’re at it.
’ She mumbled the last bit under her breath, but Zafar caught it as she got up, and after giving Zafar a killer glare, she turned to leave, as her admirer pressed his hand into Reshma’s.
He narrowed his eyes at Zafar just before he turned away.
Fatima was making her way back towards them and spotting her son with Reshma, she smiled at him.
‘There you are. I’ve been looking for you.
I hope you’re being good and not giving Reshma and Zafar any trouble.
’ She gave her son a look that suggested that she knew that the chances of that were fifty-fifty.
‘He’s been the sweetest.’ Reshma gave Zafar a side eye before looking back towards Fatima. ‘Very charming and loving. He’s stolen my heart.’ He was sure that last bit was for his benefit.
‘That’s kind of you to say, Reshma, but I know this rascal well. Come on you. Let’s get you some ice cream so you can really bounce off the walls while I have your father watch over you later.’
She took charge of her son and, after blowing Reshma a kiss, her not-so-secret-admirer left to go and have his ice cream, the lure of the frozen dessert obviously greater than wanting to stay next to the woman he’d professed his love for.
Reshma blew him a kiss back and then turned to face Zafar. He looked up at her innocently, ignoring the feeling that had hit him when she’d kissed her palm and then blown it towards Romeo.
‘All that was missing was for you to beat your chest and roar in his face, though why, I have no idea. He’s four, Zafar. Four.’ Her tone held a mixture of annoyance and confusion.
He ignored the first part of what she’d said, latching onto the last. ‘I know, and check his audacity. Four years old and declaring that he’ll marry you like that.
He didn’t even have the decency to go down on one knee, propose and wait for an answer.
’ Zafar knew he was being ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it.
He stood up, not wanting to be at a disadvantage as Reshma stayed standing.
He took half a step towards her and had to dip his head to maintain eye contact.
When Reshma wore flats, like she was today, she only reached his shoulder.
He took a more well-mannered sip of his coffee this time and she mimicked him with her tea, not once breaking eye contact.
His eyes were drawn to hers, where she’d flicked her eye liner at the ends and her eyelids sparkled.
She’d lined her eyes heavily and they looked bigger and brighter than usual.
Her nose stud twinkled as she lifted her chin, making him smile.
Throughout the day, she’d maintained a fine balance between showing defiance and indifference towards him and he was intrigued at the fiery spirit she was giving him a glimpse of.
‘That’s rich coming from you. From what I remember, you didn’t propose either, forget going down on one knee.
Your father finalised everything with my uncle.
You didn’t even bother to do it ceremonially.
At least Haroon was sweet enough to declare his love and draw me a picture of us.
He made the effort to try to write my name on the picture too. No one forced him to.’
‘Touché, Mrs Saeed. Touché.’ She had him there.
Romeo had one … no, three up on him. A declaration of love, a picture and her name on the picture.
But it was his name attached to hers and suddenly he felt a need to assert it.
The reason for which he would sit and ponder on later, because he damned well needed to figure out what was going through his head with regards to Reshma right now.
Getting to know her or even romancing her was one thing.
Being affected by her so viscerally and feeling possessive was another.
‘It’s Ms Mir actually.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘My name is still Reshma Mir. I never changed it to Saeed. And you know what? I’m glad I didn’t. Why take the name of a man who doesn’t even want to be with me?’ She stretched her lips as though forcing a smile, but he could hear the hurt she was trying to cover up in her voice.
Maybe it was because he had witnessed her distress last night, but he suddenly felt attuned to the underlying pain in her voice. Surely, it hadn’t always been there, had it?
Zafar cleared his throat. ‘I’m not one of those men who needs or expects his wife to change her name and take his unless it’s something she chooses to do and it makes her happy.
I’m quite happy for you to call yourself Reshma Mir or Reshma Saeed.
It doesn’t change the reality that we are both linked to each other.
And as for proposing to you … you’re right.
I didn’t. There’s lots I haven’t done and, believe it or not, I acknowledge and accept it.
As I said to you last night, I’ve failed you as a husband.
But that’s not a trend I intend to keep up.
We might not know each other as well as we should, but I reckon you know me well enough to know that I put a lot of effort into succeeding.
And when I identify any failures or weaknesses, even my own, I make it my mission to turn them around until they’re a resounding success, whatever the obstacles.
Including four-year-olds who try to win over my wife.
’ As he said the words, he felt a strong sense of awareness of how much he meant them.