Page 78 of The Mismatch

There was a long silence.

‘Like you’re drunk,’ she finally said.

She had expected him to say many things, but he surprised her. He laughed a full-bodied, whole-hearted laugh.

‘Oh, so what?’ he said.

Her heartbeat quickened. She had rehearsed this moment, and had a range of arguments memorised, but they all involved Hossein’s denial of his wrongdoings.

‘So?’ she repeated, buying herself some much-needed time.

‘I work hard, Neda,’ he sighed, no trace of a smile left on his face. He walked closer to her. ‘I had a drink, it’s not the end of the world.’

‘Not the end of the world? You’re meant to be a Muslim?’

‘And is your baba not a Muslim? What about your uncle?’

She felt her body tighten. She focused her gaze on the mug he had drunk from. It had a small chip on the rim, which irritated her. She was sure he had done that, though he’d never have said anything.

‘That’s different.’

‘Why? Please explain why it’s different?’

‘They’re the older generation.’ She waved her hand dismissively. ‘I thought you were like me, that you believed in Allah, that you wanted to follow the rules—’

‘It was one drink!’ he exclaimed. The expression on his face was deceptive, might have been one of mild exasperation. And if she hadn’t looked in his trouser pockets, if she hadn’t already had her suspicions, she would have let the argument go then. Added fondness for an occasional drink to his character traits.

‘Why do you carry condoms with you?’

He was silent for a moment. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Just answer me!’

He walked over to his trousers and emptied the contents onto the kitchen table. He removed his wallet, loose change and keys. ‘No condoms, see,’ he said. ‘Are you OK?’ He looked at her like she was mentally unstable.

She slammed her fist against the table, surprising even herself.

‘Not today, no. Maybe you’ve used the one I saw in there.’ She shook her head in disgust, recoiling from him. ‘But I saw one last week when I was washing your clothes.’

He closed the distance between them, looked into her eyes, searching for something. ‘You’re joking, right?’ When she didn’t reply, he made a noise deep in his throat. ‘Oh, come on! I love you, Neda, I love you so much. Of course I haven’t been with anyone else. Fine, I had a couple of drinks, OK? With some men I know. And, no, I’m not gay, so don’t accuse me of that.’ His attempt at humour failed miserably.

‘You’re lying.’

Again, he took a step towards her, picked up her hand, grasped it in both of his like it was the most valuable object.

‘I swear on Allah, on my mother’s life, Neda, I have never cheated on you.’

‘You still haven’t explained the condoms. Why do you need them with you?’

The tops of his cheeks were pink. ‘Fine, I was speaking to friends and they said a particular brand was good … better for women … and I wanted us to try them. Samples were being given out.’ He walked over to their bedside table, pulled open the drawer, returning with a packet in his hand. ‘This was what you saw. But obviously, with our different schedules, we haven’t actually had the opportunity to … you know.’ Despite being overly confident in most aspects of his life, he was suddenly shy, embarrassed even.

Now Neda was embarrassed. And speechless too.

She went to bed and he joined her.

‘Why aren’t you saying anything?’ he asked.

‘Let’s just sleep,’ she said, turning away from him, pulling the covers tight around her body.