Straightening Ali (9 page)

“
Thank you,” Ali said, not knowing what else to say. His stomach clenched with the guilt he felt at hearing his sister-in-law’s words. What if she found out about the lifestyle he’d led? What would she think of him then? Would she still call him honest?

“
I am so proud that you are joining our family,” Shazia said. “You will be such an asset. We’ll all look after you as long as you make sure you take good care of our sister and treat her well. If you hurt her, you’ll have us to deal with.” She laughed gently to try and hide the threat in her words.

“
I’ll look after her, and I promise I won’t let you down,” Ali said, meaning every word. Somehow Shazia had evoked the memory of what he most wanted – to feel he was part of a family and not an outsider. He wanted to be secure and protected, and that’s what this family offered.

“
I know you will, Ali. Anyway,” she said, her voice turning less serious. “I’ve heard you’ve turned down the job from that imbecile Javed?”

“
Shazia!” her mother gasped sounding shocked. “That is no way to talk about Javed in front of the men.” Shazia smirked wickedly in response.

“
Yes, I’m sorry about that,” Ali said not feeling at all sorry. “It was really Yunus who explained to him that I couldn’t take up his job offer.”

“
Good on you,” Shazia said, rewarding Yunus with a smile. “That man is an idiot. I don’t know why my parents feel that they have to be so nice to him because of something that his parents did for them over thirty years ago.”

“
Please don’t talk so rudely in front of guests, Shazia,” her mother admonished, trying to rein in her daughter’s unruly tongue.

“
Well, Mother, you know what I think of him. Anyway, is there someone else you would like to meet, Ali?” Shazia asked mischievously.

Ali couldn’t help but smile at her teasing. “I don’t know. Do you think there is someone else I should meet?” he replied.

“
Well, I know someone who is dying to meet you. I’m sure you must be just as curious. Mum and Dad have agreed that you can see her for five minutes in the garden. I’ll be keeping an eye on you both throughout, so make sure you behave yourself,” she said half seriously.

“
Okay,” Ali said, suddenly feeling nervous again.

Yunus moved up closer to him on the sofa. “When you meet her try to behave like a fucking man,” he whispered into Ali’s ear. “If you say anything out of line, I’ll make sure that you never walk again.” The smile on his face gave everyone else the impression that he was offering Ali some good brotherly advice.

“
Well, come on. We haven’t got all day you know,” Shazia said, opening the patio doors, which led into the garden. “If you wait outside, I’ll fetch her.”

Ali went into the garden and waited. He felt anxious not knowing what he was going to say to his fiancée. Should he tell her the truth about his sexuality and admit that he’d been forced to agree to the marriage? “What am I going to do?” he thought. All of a sudden, his mind felt like it was in a chaotic maelstrom of indecisiveness. This was his final opportunity to stop the wedding or at least to be honest, but he didn’t know how to make use of it. The confusion was exacerbated by the fact that he now knew Sajda’s family, and he didn’t want to let them down.

The garden was as bleak and depressing as the thoughts racing through his mind. It was covered in large, concrete paving stones where you’d normally have expected a lawn to be. Even the fence was made from concrete slats slotted into concrete posts. A child’s football lay punctured and disused in the corner next to a pile of rubble. Among the drabness, two salwars hung on the washing-line breaking up the grayness by flapping in the wind like large red and yellow kites that danced together elegantly, joyously untempered by their surroundings.

Ali tried to wait patiently for his fiancée. He watched the salwars tease each other as they tried to escape the wooden pegs holding them tightly to the line. When Sajda finally appeared, it felt almost intrusive as he tore his gaze away to look at her.

Standing next to her sister, she appeared a couple of inches taller. She looked just like she had in her photograph, except in person she appeared tall, awkward and gawky. Even her shoulders were stooped, giving the impression that she lacked confidence.

He felt just as awkward as she, not knowing what to say. He stood staring for a few long seconds before pulling himself together. “Hello,” he finally managed to stutter nervously at her, as Shazia went into the house and stood watch behind the patio doors.

“
Hello,” she replied, smiling nervously at him.

Ali did not know what to say next, feeling a little tongue-tied. “It’s good to finally meet you at last,” he said. “I’ve seen your photograph of course, but you can’t know someone from just looking at a two dimensional image.”

“
Oh, I think you can,” she replied.

“
I guess,” said Ali not wanting to disagree with her. “So what made you agree to getting married to me?” he asked curiously.

“
I liked your face. You have an honest face. I saw your photograph, and I immediately felt drawn to you. It was like I’d known you all my life. I had to say yes,” she said. “You were born in England like me, so we have the same values. I just know that we will be compatible. So what made you agree?” she asked in return.

It would have been good to have been able to be honest and tell her that he’d been forced to agree, but those words were never going to be allowed to surface. “I thought it was about time that I settled down and married,” Ali said. “I also liked your photograph, too,” he added.

“
So are you happy with all the arrangements?” she asked.

“
Yes,” Ali replied keeping his reply short. If only he could tell her the truth. The thought of admitting everything to her bubbled treacherously in his mind, but he kept it in check.

“
That’s good. I’m very happy, too. It’s like all my dreams are finally being fulfilled. There is so much for us both to do together,” she said longingly. She paused, noticing that Shazia was returning to the garden. “It’s been really nice meeting you. Most Pakistani parents wouldn’t allow their children to meet like this. We’ve been very lucky, don’t you think?”

“
I guess so,” Ali said thinking the opposite. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“
It’s time to say goodbye, Sajda,” Shazia said, interrupting the uncomfortable conversation. “You’ve both had your five minutes.”

“
Goodbye,” Sajda said wistfully. “Next time I see you, it will be in my wedding dress.” She followed her sister back into the house looking back longingly at Ali, leaving Ali to trail slowly behind, deep in thought.

In those few minutes, Ali had realized that he had nothing in common with Sajda. Their short conversation had been very stilted. She had appeared young and naïve. He’d expected some connection with her at any level, but there had been nothing. No spark, no meeting of minds. Nothing! As he stepped back into the house, he became acutely aware of just how much of his happiness he was sacrificing to keep his mother happy.

Yunus was standing up waiting for him apprehensively as he entered the lounge. “Right, we have to go now,” he said.

“
Can’t you both stay and eat?” his father-in-law asked, sounding surprised that they were leaving so abruptly.

“
No, we have to get going. I’ve remembered that I have a meeting with a client later today,” Yunus said regretfully.

“
That’s a shame. I was about to cook something for you both,” Ali’s mother-in-law said.

“
Well they’ve both met each other now,” Yunus said to her. “What did you think of her? Are you happy?” he asked looking Ali directly in the eyes as if to dare him to say something that he might regret.

Confronted by the question in front of everyone, Ali had no option with his response. “I liked her. Yes, I’m very happy,” Ali replied stonily, showing no sign of his apparent happiness on his face.

Sajda’s parents both beamed happily, delighting in the misconception that things between their future son-in-law and their daughter had gone so well.

As the time came for everyone to say goodbye, Ali’s mother-in-law handed him the suit she’d brought him. “Next time I see you you’ll be wearing this suit, and it will be your wedding day,” she said, repeating words similar to Sajda’s.

Ali parked his car in front of Haseena’s house. It was several days since he had last seen her, and a lot had happened since then. He’d been unable to face any of his friends. Instead, he’d shut himself away in an effort to make a clean break from the past. Today, however, he’d felt worse than ever about his situation and had decided to escape to her house to spend time with someone who actually understood him.

Ali had met Haseena at the clothing store where he’d worked on the weekends. At first, he thought she was like all the other women in the community, but he soon found out she was different, and gradually Haseena became Ali’s closest friend and confidant. She was the first person Ali had told that he was gay, and she had given him her utmost support ever since.

Haseena lived on a small inner city council estate in Ladywood, a short walk from Birmingham city center. She’d bought her home from the Council several years ago and was now desperate to sell it, but unfortunately, it was in the worst part of Ladywood, which meant that there had been little interest from buyers since going on the market. The post with the For Sale sign on it was still buried in the front lawn, but it was now looking a bit tatty, having been there for over five months.

Ali got out of his car and walked through the shared alley to Haseena’s back gate. He opened it and knocked on the back door before walking in.

“
Hi Haseena, it’s me,” he said, cheerfully announcing himself. Haseena stood hard at work by the kitchen sink, surrounded by dirty dishes with her hands deep in foam. She looked up at Ali.

“
So you’ve finally decided to show up. Have you been avoiding me?” she asked, sounding annoyed.

“
Don’t be like that, Haseena,” Ali said, giving her a hug. “Have you missed me?”

Haseena wasn’t what you’d expect from a Pakistani woman in her late thirties. She was very petite, measuring just short of four foot ten inches tall and very slim, too, as she did not suffer the tendency to carry excess weight around her midsection like most of the other Pakistani women in the community. Her face was always carefully powdered with a light foundation, and the subtle use of blusher to her cheeks gave her a healthy glow. Her lips were painted delicately with a dark red lipstick, and her eyebrows were neatly plucked, showing two fine lines above her mascara-enhanced eyes. She looked immaculate and perfect.

Her husband was a white Englishman named Derek. She'd run away with him to Birmingham from somewhere up north to escape her family over twenty years ago. Two years after settling in Birmingham, she’d married Derek in an Islamic ceremony.

Haseena tried to keep her distance from the community in Birmingham, desperate to avoid the constant, petty gossip and internal politics as best she could. Her unusual choice of husband meant that she was well known to the community, but instead of shunning her, some members of the community would occasionally make attempts to include her in their social events, which she then worked hard to find excuses to avoid.

She was very in tune with her cultural and religious heritage and even kept up to date with Pakistani current affairs by reading the Urdu printed
Jang
newspaper every week. She also knew everything there was to know about Islam, despite the fact that she was not very religious and probably had never been inside a mosque in the last twenty years.

Haseena laughed at Ali’s attempt to soften her up with a hug, knowing that it was having the desired effect. She could never stay angry with him for long, even when she knew she should.

“
You’ve neglected me,” she said accusingly.

“
I’m sorry. I’ve just been very busy,” Ali said apologetically.

“
Too busy to see me?” Haseena exclaimed. “So what have you been up to that’s kept you so busy? Do you want to tell me, yourself, or maybe I can tell you?”

Ali’s jaw dropped. “So you’ve heard then?” he asked.

“
I’ve heard,” Haseena replied, her smile drying up quickly. She wiped her wet hands on the apron she was wearing. “Why didn’t you come and tell me, Ali? I heard about it at the halal meat shop on Ladypool Road of all places. I overheard that girl, Mafooz talking to the shopkeeper about it. I thought it was just some idle gossip, but when you didn’t show up for days, I knew that it was true.”

“
I’m sorry, Haseena. I just didn’t know how to deal with it. I needed some time to sort my head out,” Ali said, knowing just how hurt Haseena must have felt hearing something so important about him from someone else.