Page 74 of The Mismatch

‘Having a boyfriend before marriage is reason enough to go to hell. I don’t even pray or wear a hijab. I mean, look at me. I’m semi-naked with my white boyfriend, and five minutes ago I invited you toyou know, andyou’rethe one who stopped us!’ She paused to breathe deeply.

It was obvious he didn’t know what to say. ‘I can’t pretend to know how to be a good Muslim, but what we’re doing doesn’t feel wrong to me. We’re not hurting anyone, and the way I feel about you, Soraya, I’ve never felt like this about anyone. It can’t be wrong to feel this way about another person.’

She squeezed her eyes shut, aware this conversation was a prime case of the blind leading the blind. She knew next to nothing about Islam and didn’t practise her religion at all. She believed in God, but apart from that what did she know that Magnus didn’t? What did she know about religion, heaven and hell, that he didn’t?

‘I’m falling in love with you, Soraya.’

Speechless, she kept her eyes shut. Unintentionally, he had made things so much harder for her.

He needed to stop talking. Stop saying the words he was never meant to say. It wasn’t meant to be like this. And yet part of her was glad it was.

‘You don’t have to say anything,’ he said quickly. ‘I just want you to know. To know that I’ll always be there for you.’

‘Magnus …’

‘My dad used to hit my mum when his drinking got really bad,’ Magnus said. ‘She’d have black eyes, and I’d hear her telling her friends she got it from slipping in the shower or some other crap excuse. But I heard them shouting, her screaming, so I always knew.’ There was a brief silence. ‘I just want you to tell me things. Iwantto help. You need help, Soraya, you know that, right?’ He said the last bit quietly.

‘How can anyone help?’

‘You can’t go back to them after all this and pretend nothing’s happened. You need to talk about these things. Bottling it up won’t help.’

‘My mum always told me not to tell people about us.’

‘It’s important to, though. Especially me.’

‘I can’t. I want to. So many times, I’ve wanted to.’

‘What’s stopped you?’

‘Well, I don’t know … maybe that then you’d realise how fucked up my family is. I didn’t want to add to the stereotype of coming from a dysfunctional Muslim family. Plus, I was scared it’d put you off.’

‘Soraya, it’s me. I’m not going anywhere. There’s nothing you can say that will change that.’

‘I was told to break things off with you, to be a good Muslim.’

He loosened his arms so that he could look at her face. ‘What did you say to that?’

‘I said I wasn’t going to see you anymore.’

He nodded. ‘And do you want to do that?’ Magnus’s voice was controlled, in a way that surprised and irked her. But it was a good question.

She opened her mouth, once, twice, three times, but didn’t know what to say. No words would come. Her usually busy mind was suddenly blank.

‘That wasn’t why … I don’t know what I want.’

He grabbed her hand, began stroking the back of it.

‘There’s something I never told you.’ She felt the familiar build-up, of wanting to tell him something, and usually she’d push it back down. Except, this time, she let it rise, let the words come out. ‘My dad’s an addict like yours.’

The room was silent bar the hum from the pipes, which groaned momentarily. Soraya almost wanted to comment on it, create a joke out of it, deflect from what she had just said. But she didn’t.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’

They heard a key turn in the door and then the sound of it closing. Oliver’s lazy stumble to the kitchen, the lights being switched on. Soraya listened to his movements for a while, imploring her senses to distract her from this situation.