Chapter Thirty-Two
The next morning I woke up with a banging headache. Sami was no longer next to me and I could hear him pottering around somewhere in the house. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t hide in Dina’s house forever – she had a newborn baby to deal with and I didn’t want to burden her like I had apparently been burdening everyone else – but the thought of facing Malik made me ill. It was unlikely that he would be at home on a Saturday, so I dragged myself home later that morning, praying that he wouldn’t be there.
The house was quiet and still when I entered, everything pristine without a speck of dust in sight thanks to Ma’s obsession with cleanliness. No one was home, so I shuffled about in the kitchen for a bit, making myself some tea and toast before heading up to my room. Ma had left a basket of my clean clothes fresh off the clothes horse and once again, I felt the sting of Malik’s accusation.
Once I had put my laundry away, I half-heartedly pulled out Noah’s notebook and flicked through the pages until I got to the next item on the list. I wasn’t in the mood for Noah’s antics, but I needed a distraction from the mess that was my life:
22. PAY OFF CC
DONE!!! ￡6,790 all gone – finally debt-free and it bloody feels amazing! DO NOT EVER PUT YOURSELF IN THIS SORT OF SITUATION AGAIN!!!!
I felt bad as I read number twenty-two. Now that we had met again in real life and he was no longer a fantasy, but a real-life person I was possibly about to go on a second date with, it felt like an invasion of his privacy. What if he didn’t want me to know that he used to have credit-card debt?
Thanks to the fact that I had been ‘burdening’ my parents all these years and that I didn’t have much of a life or style until recently, I had zero debt and hefty savings. Under Noah’s note, I wrote, Alhamdulillah, this isn’t something I need to do. Maybe look into investing money instead?
Moving onto twenty-three, Noah had written:
23 . GET OVER FEAR OF KARAOKE!
Bloomsbury Lanes private room – was jokes! Still can’t sing but all good.
The thought of doing karaoke made my stomach turn. Some people liked getting up there and having everyone watch them fooling about, but I didn’t. I couldn’t think of anything worse than being the centre of attention. I would never be able to relax or let myself go. How was I supposed to do this?
Something Fareena had said once came to me, about how sometimes we’re the ones who cause our own difficulties and that if we got out of our own way, then incredible things could happen. I didn’t think she meant going to karaoke, but the sentiment still rang true.
Before I could persuade myself otherwise, I opened up Noah’s last message asking if I wanted to meet up at the weekend and texted him back. I was in desperate need of a distraction and some fun, something to take the edge off the pain that was currently residing within me:
MAYA: You up for some karaoke?
NOAH: Count me in! Tonight?
MAYA: If you’re free?
NOAH: I have a client at 5, so can meet around 8?
MAYA: Perfect, I’ll see what’s available.
The place Noah went for karaoke was fully booked, so I booked the smallest private booth at a place in Holborn and arranged to meet him there.
As I got ready for our date, I was acutely aware that I still didn’t know if Noah was Muslim or not. If he wasn’t, whatever we were doing wasn’t going to lead anywhere, so why was I still doing it?
Noah was already there waiting for me when I walked up to the doors leading down to the basement that housed the various private karaoke booths. I felt nervous as I approached him. He was looking down at his phone and I got a few seconds of observing him unnoticed and he didn’t disappoint in a white T-shirt that showed off his beautiful colouring and faded, ripped jeans. We were sort of matching and for the first time in my life, I felt the overwhelming need to get a picture of us together so I could forever remember the time I matched outfits with the hottest man in London.
‘Hey,’ I called out as I approached him. He smiled when he saw me; a wide, easy, unassuming smile, causing my belly to do a little somersault and pushing away the darker thoughts that had been plaguing me since the day before.
‘Hello,’ he replied, his voice warm and smooth, like custard when it’s made right. He reached over to hug me and I let him, feeling another stab of guilt. Was this going to go anywhere? If not, why was I letting this random man touch me? I persuaded myself that I wouldn’t cross any more lines, that this would be the extent of any physical moments between us. It’s not as if I was behaving like my brother – going on holidays and shopping in Morrisons with a woman I had no intention of marrying. It was karaoke. There was a vague hug. That was it.
‘Fancy a selfie?’ I asked him before we made our way inside the venue. ‘We’re sort of matching.’
Noah laughed at that and pulled me closer to him as I angled the phone and took a picture of us both. His body was warm, his muscles defined but not in an over-the-top, body-building kind of way and it felt good to be nestled against him.
We followed the hostess down to our private booth, a small, dark room with a leather bench along one wall, a TV screen and a couple of microphones. The hostess gave us a rundown of how to use the system and order food and drinks and then she was gone and it was Noah and me, in the dark.
Gulp.
‘What do you want to drink?’ Noah asked, his voice slicing through the silence, punctuated only by my heartbeat.
‘Red Bull, please,’ I said quickly. ‘Err, I don’t drink,’ I added hastily. ‘I’m Muslim.’
‘I thought so,’ he said easily. ‘I am too, so I’ll get us two Red Bulls. Anything else? I’m thinking of nachos and fries.’
‘Sounds good,’ I said calmly, maintaining a composure I certainly wasn’t feeling inside. Inside, I was laughing hysterically. HE WAS MUSLIM! What a relief!
The conflict I had been experiencing only moments before ended as though a white flag had been waved. This was no longer a pointless date; it could actually lead somewhere! I settled into the bench as we chose the list of songs. I said ‘we’ but it was more Noah who did the choosing; I sat back and let him take the lead. His enthusiasm was a welcome change from Zakariya’s cool indifference and he worked through the lists adding mostly R&B and hip-hop tracks.
‘You know, I’ve never done karaoke before,’ I told him as I watched him staring intently at the little computer, scrolling through the songs.
‘I’ve only done it once before,’ he replied and a stab of guilt pierced through me. I knew this already.
‘How was it?’ I croaked, taking a gulp from my drink.
‘Better than I thought it would be. I had a sort of irrational fear of it, but I got over it after that night. We had a lot of fun.’
‘Yeah, I’m a bit nervous,’ I admitted. ‘I don’t have the worst voice but it’s the thought of being up there with people watching me that stresses me out.’
‘Well, the only person here is me,’ he said, turning to smile reassuringly at me. ‘And we’ll sing together anyway. Here we go, I’m going to start the music. You ready, Ariana?’
‘Ariana?’ I squeaked. ‘Talk about setting the bar high.’
Noah shrugged. ‘You kinda look like her.’
I most certainly did not. Was he playing me?
The music started and I giggled when I recognised the opening notes to ‘Gangsta’s Paradise’, relieved that I wouldn’t have to actually sing.
‘You ready for this?’ Noah asked, moving his body to the music.
‘As ready as I’ll ever be,’ I replied, standing up to join him, getting ready for the rap to start. ‘ As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death .?.?. ’
The next two hours sped by in a blur of music and food. Sometimes Noah sang and danced alone as I caught my breath, sometimes he watched me bop along like a fool to noughties pop, sometimes we sang duets, other times we didn’t bother singing, we just sat back and talked over the music. At the beginning, I was painfully self-conscious, thankful that the room was dark. By the end, I was sweating from all the jumping around, my throat ached from the shouting and singing (more often the former than the latter) and my belly hurt from all the laughter. My inhibitions became smaller and smaller as the night progressed and by the time it hit 10 p.m. and our two hours ran out, I no longer cared what I looked like with my wild hair and red face. We were having so much fun that it didn’t matter.
Emerging out into the cool night was a welcome relief from the heat and humidity of the booth. Noah tried to slip his hand into mine but I pulled it away, embarrassed.
‘Sorry, my palms are sweaty,’ I explained, rubbing them onto my jeans.
‘Are your knees weak and arms heavy, as well?’ he replied, a twinkle in his eye.
Laughing, I continued the lyrics and once again, the atmosphere was light and fun and we continued to sing the rest of the song together. When Noah grabbed my hand again, I didn’t stop him. Now that he was marriage material, surely a bit of hand-holding was OK?
‘Shall we get some proper food?’ he asked as we walked through the backstreets of Holborn towards Covent Garden, which was buzzing despite the hour. ‘I’m starving after all that dancing.’
‘Sure,’ I replied genially and allowed him to lead me to a restaurant in the centre of the plaza, still relishing the feeling of his hand in mine.
‘This place is halal,’ he said as we stood outside the restaurant and perused the menu. I didn’t care what or where we ate. I was happy to do anything that prolonged the night.
‘You know, I can’t shake this weird feeling I have,’ Noah said as we sat down and ordered our food: chicken bao buns for me and a steak sub for him.
‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know, I keep feeling like we’ve met before. Odd, right?’
‘Uh yeah, very odd,’ I agreed, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. ‘I’ve been feeling like that too, but, uh, I don’t know how we could have possibly met before.’ I was rambling, I knew I was and I wish I had admitted the truth to him there and then. I didn’t though. Something stopped me and when I had finished rationalising everything, I opened my mouth to suggest that we had perhaps met on the Tube – but he started speaking at the same time and the moment passed.