18. Rani
At the doctor’s surgery Ali sat on a chair, scribbling on a piece of paper, while Rani lay on the examination table and the doctor pressed her tummy. When she was done, she told Rani to get dressed.
‘You will need a scan to accurately determine how many weeks you are,’ the doctor was saying, while typing on her computer.
‘I’m not sure I want to keep it,’ Rani blurted. The doctor stopped typing. She looked up at Rani but kept her face even.
‘Okay. Have you made a final decision? Because the faster you act, the more options you have. You’re probably past six weeks’ gestation, based on the dates you’ve given me.’
Rani felt a panic grow in her stomach.
‘I don’t know.’
‘In that case, you can speak to a counsellor. We have support services in place.’
‘But I don’t know if I can do it ...’
‘An abortion? Well, there is always the option of adoption or foster care.’
Rani hated the sound of that. There was no way she was going to send her child to be brought up by someone else. She began to shake her head vigorously.
‘Have you spoken to your husband?’ the doctor asked, her voice softer.
‘Not yet.’
‘Is there a reason for that?’
‘I don’t want to get his hopes up. But maybe he won’t get his hopes up. We had a rough time when Ali was born.’
All this time Ali himself had grown very quiet, as if he could sense that an important conversation was taking place. When Rani looked over at what he was drawing, she noticed that he had drawn a series of circles in neat lines across the page.
‘Look, I don’t want to pressure you but if you do decide to have an abortion, you can only have a medical abortion till nine weeks of pregnancy. After that, you’re looking at a surgical abortion. As for going ahead with the pregnancy, just know because you had a tough time previously doesn’t mean you will have the same experience again. Every pregnancy is different.’
Rani nodded.
‘Would you like me to give you a referral to a support service?’
Rani nodded again. She left clutching the piece of paper in her hand knowing that it was unlikely she would ever call that service. She hadn’t asked for support when her heart split in two after Tariq left her, she didn’t ask for support when her friend died and she wasn’t going to ask for support when the time came to make the decision about her pregnancy.
That afternoon she visited a daycare centre with Ali. The teachers were smiling, the children seemed content, but most of all her son jumped right into the action, sidling up beside a boy in the sandpit who was digging some kind of tunnel. When it came time to go, he began to cry.
‘When’s the earliest he can start?’ Rani asked.
As it turned out they had a vacancy. ‘It’s lucky he’s three years old, otherwise it would have been much harder to find him a space,’ the centre director explained. ‘Our under-twos room is the most hotly contested.’
‘Three days a week is a lot, no?’ Dan asked, when she told him Ali was starting at daycare next week. Rani shot him a look and Dan understood to not say anything further.
Though later, as they ate their dinner, Rani mentioned how they were eligible for rebates. ‘I’ve done the maths and it’s affordable.’
‘It wasn’t the expense I was worried about,’ Dan said. ‘It was you. Will you be okay?’
‘Of course,’ Rani responded, trying to make herself sound brighter than she felt.
‘What are you planning to do for those three days?’ Dan asked later as they were getting into bed. Rani shrugged. She felt herself getting anxious at the thought.
‘Maybe you could look for some part-time work. I could ask around if you like. I think they’re always looking for administrative help at my company. Though you’re too overqualified for that.’
‘I have something to say,’ she blurted.
Dan looked at her attentively.
‘I, uh ...’ she started. There is a child growing in my belly and I’m not sure I can go ahead and have it. I’m not sure if I’m that great a mother in the first place. Yes, I go through the motions and do all the things to ensure my child feels loved and cared for, but inside I still feel sort of dead.
A bead of sweat began to run down her back.
‘Well?’ Dan asked.
‘I don’t think I’m sleepy. I might just go watch TV for a bit longer,’ she said.
He smiled at her. ‘Okay, you don’t have to ask for my permission.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ she said as she got out of bed and made her way to the living room.
She turned the TV on and kept the volume low.
Would you have another baby if you got pregnant? she texted Sophie on a whim, and then regretted it. She needed to heed her own advice and not text friends after 10 p.m.
Sophie didn’t reply and Rani assumed she was, like most normal people, already in bed.
On the TV she noticed the show she used to watch when she was living in the share house was on. Beautiful blonde actors were running with surfboards on an impossibly idyllic beach. She suddenly felt the urge to text Priya.
‘Naauuww waaay!’ Rani said out loud, and laughed. Somewhere she felt Priya was laughing too.
Yes I would , a text message flashed on her phone. Rani was taken aback by it. For a moment she had forgotten the text she had sent Sophie. Why? Sophie texted.
I’m pregnant , Rani typed on her phone and then deleted it. Just wondering , she typed instead.
Feeling broody? Sophie texted. That’s just hormones. Don’t let them trick you into getting pregnant.
Nah ... Rani typed and then deleted. She put her phone down. Why had she texted that woman in the first place? What did she expect her to say? Priya would have told her what to do. She thought hard about what sort of advice Priya would give her. But all Rani remembered were Priya’s words when she was massaging oil into her hair: ‘I say a lot of things. Don’t listen to me.’ When Rani closed her eyes she could picture Priya in that moment, laughing and at ease. She wished she had insisted Priya visit her more often. Or that she had visited Priya. That she had got over what she now realised was her own ill-ease about Priya’s profession and asked her more questions about it. Was she safe? Was there someone looking out for her to make sure situations didn’t get out of hand? Were the people around her to be trusted?
Gah, I often shell out advice that no one is asking for , Sophie texted. You just asked me a question and I assumed you wanted kids. Like c’mon Sophie get a grip.
Rani smiled at the text. It’s okay. It was a short reply but she didn’t know what else to say.
Meena and I were planning to hang out next week. Are you free for lunch?
Yes. Rani replied without even asking what day.
On the TV two actors were getting emotional about something, she didn’t hear what. The waves crashed behind them while their hair blew in just the right direction, not messing up their perfectly made faces. Rani tried to pay attention to the reason why they were upset but felt distracted. She opened up Facebook, which she only used these days to keep in touch with family members back in India. The first post she saw was from Hafsa. Her sister had posted a photograph of her smiling while ruffling her son’s hair. Rani’s nephew was showing off a gap in his teeth. He had lost his first tooth. Suddenly unbidden, a memory came to her, of Hafsa losing her first tooth on a lollipop she and Tariq had given her. Hafsa wanted to run home to tell her mother about the tooth. Rani was worried she would get into trouble for buying the lollipops and for giving Hafsa one. Tariq came up with a strategy. He went over to a street vendor selling soft drinks and bought one with the last of the change. It did the trick and Hafsa’s tears stopped.
On the sofa, Rani brought her hands to her head and scratched it furiously. Was Tariq always going to hang like a virus in her system? What could she do to purge him from herself?
Without thinking she typed his name in the search bar even though she knew he wouldn’t be there. Lots of Tariq Maqsoods came up as they usually did. But not her Tariq. He’d hated social media, or ‘anti-social media’ as he called it.
‘It pulls us away from actual socialising,’ he would say, and she would tease him for sounding like a grumpy old man well before his time. ‘Oh, but you would know, I’ve always been a grumpy old man. Just waiting for my physical body to catch up with my metaphysical self.’ And she would smile at him, indulging him in his rants.
Before she could help herself, she texted Hafsa. What’s Tariq’s wife’s name? she wrote.
On TV, the soap opera rerun had long finished. It had been replaced with an old episode of a game show with lots of bright lights and hyperactive contestants.
Go to bed , Hafsa texted back.
Tell me.
Don’t pretend like you haven’t asked me before. And also, yes, I’m well, thank you.
It was true, Hafsa had told her years ago when she had asked on a whim, but something in Rani’s brain had thrown the name away like a used tissue, detritus the brain could not cope with.
Okay, but I have actually forgotten. And since we are being polite, hello, how are you?
Wow. Nice.
What’s her name?
I’m just getting the children a snack. I don’t have time for this.
You never have time for your older sister.
just tell me.
Fine. But just know it seems to me you care more about your ex-husband than you do us.
That’s not fair and you know it.
You say I don’t have time for you. Have you thought about how you’ve acted? We hardly speak anymore.
Rani was shocked. She thought they were playing along and then suddenly her sister became all serious. She felt a pang of guilt – here she was failing at another aspect of life.
That’s not true! I call all the time!
To speak to Ammy and Papa.
Yes and to ask about you but they tell me you’re so busy.
Uh-huh and what does Dan think about all this?
That’s a ridiculous question.
Is it? You know you need to put Tariq behind you, for the sake of your marriage.
Fuck you , Rani typed and then deleted. Don’t you think I know? she typed instead.
I feel sad for Dan , Hafsa typed back.
I feel sad for him too being married to someone like me , Rani typed and then deleted. She was feeling hot and angry. She knew Hafsa was right. Of course she was right. Tariq was a disease. An illness that had become chronic. Try as she might, she couldn’t shake him from her system.
Fine. Maybe it will help you move on. It’s Faiza Maqsood. Yes, she took his surname , Hafsa texted. The text made Rani’s heart beat faster.
She picked up the phone and called her sister. The phone rang out.
Pick up. Don’t be angry, Huffy Hafu. It’s what she called her sister when she was little and in a huff. But Hafsa didn’t respond.
I love you. You know that, right? Rani texted again.
Rani thought about trying to call Hafsa again but Faiza’s name sat there glaring at her. Years ago, when Hafsa had told her Faiza’s name she had acted like it wasn’t a spike in her heart. But clearly enough time had passed because this time, finding out her name again didn’t bring up an acute sense of horror. Instead, all she wanted to do was discover everything she could about this woman. And so after a minute or two of consideration, she dove in. It didn’t take long to open Pandora’s box. Faiza was easily discoverable because she didn’t keep anything on her socials private. She had a large Instagram following, where she posted about her shopping hauls, her beauty tips and the products she used to keep her home looking sparkling clean for herself, her husband and her two kids. Two kids.
Faiza didn’t post the children’s faces, but pinned at the top of her account was a photo of them, with their backs to the camera, hugging her and Tariq. Two raven-haired little children, a boy and a girl in matching outfits perfectly placed in their parents’ arms. The pose, the placement of the children, even the background scenery, everything looked fake. What didn’t appear fake was the smile on Tariq’s face. She knew that smile well. He was happy. Truly, deeply, happy.
Rani let out a shriek. The howl was loud enough for Ali to be woken.
‘Mama?’ he cried out. Automatically, she got up and went to him. He sleepily reached for her as she cuddled him, making sure her tear-ridden face was angled away on the pillow. Her little boy slept, despite the shudders that shook her body and in turn, his. Grief finally turned to exhaustion and she fell into an uneasy sleep.
When she woke up Dan had already left for the day. In the kitchen she noticed a Post-it note stuck to the toaster. You both were fast asleep so I didn’t wake you. See you tonight.
It was nice of him to do that, she thought. It wasn’t like it was out of the ordinary that she slept in Ali’s room. Their son still woke in the middle of the night and either crawled into their bed, or Rani ended up crawling into his. Maybe, she wondered, her husband was trying to make an effort. She remembered how he’d tried to talk to her about what men and women did in this country to revive their sex lives and then his awkward attempt to remember that she indeed had had sex before with another man, her ex ... The thought of Tariq brought a sharp pang of pain to her chest.
Beside her Ali tugged at her pyjamas. ‘Ammy, when can I go back to play with my friends?’ he asked. When she looked down at him she saw his eyes wide and enquiring. But also sad.
‘What?’
‘My friends at the school. I want to go back to play,’ he repeated himself. The way he spoke to her, like he was growing old before his time. He already understood in his little brain that his mother needed him to be patient. That there was something weighing her down but he didn’t know what. A three-year-old boy already burdened with his mother’s sadness. No child should have to deal with that.
She picked Ali up into her arms and wrapped him into a hug. She wanted to control the tears threatening to fall down her face. He had seen her cry many times before. His chubby little hands would wipe her face and look at her with concern. She didn’t want to see him cry anymore. Her sadness was ruining his life. What sort of mother was she?
‘Mama,’ Ali said, pulling away from her. He searched her face as if trying to figure out if she was happy or sad.
‘It’s okay, baby. What would you like to eat for breakfast?’
He shrugged and then a cheeky smile spread across his face. ‘Ice cream,’ he said.
She laughed. ‘Okay, let’s have ice cream. With sprinkles?’
He nodded.
‘You know, back in India we used to go to this cafe that made banana splits. Do you want me to make one?’
‘Does it have ice cream?’ Ali asked.
‘It has ice cream, and banana, and sprinkles and whipped cream on top!’
Ali clapped his hands.
She was amazed how much his mood was affected by hers. When she was happy and excited, so was he. All this time she had walked through life like a ghost thinking her son hadn’t noticed, but he had. He very much had.
The lunch was at a restaurant by the beach which had taken Rani a train and two buses to get to. Over the course of the ninety-minute journey she wondered if it was worth the trek, but as soon as the bus deposited her in the harbourside beach suburb she was struck by the piercing beauty of the place. The water was calm and multiple shades of blue. The sand was even whiter than the sand in the soap opera she watched.
A 1920s white brick building sat right on the beach. The waiter opened the glass door for Rani and she immediately felt intimidated. She took a deep breath and nodded at the man, telling him she was meeting a friend there.
Meena and Sophie had reserved a table on the outside terrace. They were drinking large fruity cocktails and chatting animatedly when Rani saw them. She almost didn’t want to intrude. She was the third wheel, she knew that, but she also really wanted to be in the company of other adults. Sophie looked up and caught sight of Rani. She flashed her a big warm smile and waved, getting out of her chair as she did. The action immediately put Rani at ease.
‘So glad you could make it!’ Sophie said after she released Rani from a quick hug. ‘I realised later how out of the way this place must be for you.’
‘But the view makes up for it, right?’ Meena said, after giving Rani a peck on the cheek.
Meena wasn’t wrong. As she settled into a striped, cushioned seat underneath a large similarly striped umbrella, Rani took in the view. The sun was glittering on the impossibly clear blue water as gentle waves lapped at the sand. There was a group of laughing children nearby chasing some seagulls. Everyone looked happy and relaxed. Rani felt herself sink into her chair.