The Good Daughter Page 13

  ‘Maybe we can help each other.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘I’m guessing your mum is cracking down just like my parents. No going out. No friends who aren’t Muslim and definitely no boys.’ Dina steamed ahead while I nodded to myself. ‘What if we became best friends?’

  How the hell was I going to get out of this one?

  ‘Of course we wouldn’t really be friends at all,’ Dina continued.

  ‘Of course,’ I repeated. Did she think she was too good for me?

  ‘If we let our parents think we’re friends and we call each other every night, then we could call whoever we wanted.’

  Dina was a genius, but I wasn’t telling her. ‘That’s a great idea,’ I said instead, keeping the excitement from my voice. ‘We can even organise weekend outings and hook up with mates.’

  ‘And we can have fake sleepovers.’

  That wouldn’t do me any good. There was no one I wanted to sleep over with. Then Brian and our near kiss popped into my head. My lips tingled.

  ‘But that’s down the track,’ Dina said briskly. ‘We should set a time to call each other. How is seven o’clock onwards?’

  ‘Works for me.’

  ‘We have to keep to the same timetable with our boy—I mean with our friends, otherwise we’ll get caught. So we have to be off the phone by eight.’

  ‘Uh, sure.’ I thought I was good at working the system, but Dina amped it to a whole other level. I was her apprentice and she was my master.

  On Monday Gemma and Dina waited at the school gates as I rode up. ‘Cool bike.’ Dina hugged and kissed me like we were long-lost sisters.

  ‘I have to put it in the bike-shed,’ I said.

  ‘We’ll come.’ Dina put her hand through mine and walked with me. Gemma followed, watching us suspiciously.

  ‘You’re making us look suss,’ I muttered to Dina in Bosnian.

  Dina saw Gemma following and let go of my arm. ‘What are you doing slow-arse?’ She thrust her arm around Gemma’s and tugged her until we were walking in a line.

  I let out a sigh. I felt like I’d sold my soul to the devil. While pretending to be friends with Dina was convenient, I did not want a touchy-feely relationship with her. After I put my bike away, Gemma wanted to go to the oval and have a smoke. ‘I’ll go to the front and wait for Brian and Jesse,’ I said.

  ‘We’ll come with you.’ Dina turned Gemma around.

  ‘I don’t want to,’ Gemma moaned.

  ‘We’ll go to the oval later.’ Dina pulled her along.

  Brian and Jesse were at the front talking to Adnan. ‘There you are!’ Brian exclaimed when he saw me. He gave me a smacking kiss. Jesse gave me a peck on the cheek, his dry lips barely making contact.

  ‘Hey cuz.’ Adnan kissed me too.

  When I turned I was gobsmacked to see Dina giving Brian and Jesse pecks. When she reached Adnan she almost fell into him as she kissed his cheek, holding onto his shoulders and thrusting her hips forward. So much for Tony. Gemma looked daggers at me, like I was responsible for Dina’s touchy-feely routine.

  ‘I want a ciggie,’ Gemma whined when the hellos were over.

  When we got to the oval Dina and Gemma pulled out their packets while Brian scabbed a smoke from Adnan.

  ‘I didn’t know you smoked,’ I said to Brian.

  He eyed the cigarette like he was shocked to find it in his hand. ‘I’m more of a social smoker.’

  Jesse and I were the only ones who didn’t smoke. We stood on the edge of the group. ‘It’s just you and me kid.’ Jesse smiled.

  ‘Since we’re the only ones who don’t think it’s fun to suck on a cancer stick.’

  ‘You should try before you judge,’ Adnan said, smoke punctuating his words. He offered me his packet.

  I pushed it away. ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’

  ‘What about you Jesse?’ Adnan offered.

  ‘I’ve got bronchitis,’ Jesse said. Adnan returned the packet to his shirt pocket.

  Jesse and I moved away from the smokers. ‘I read your article.’ I reached into my backpack. Jesse had written about teenagers who cared for their ill parents. I stood closer to him and leaned his story on one of my books so I could go over my notes. ‘I’ve only got minimal feedback because it was amazing.’ I met his eyes. We were centimetres apart.

  ‘Thanks.’ Jesse’s minty breath caressed my face.

  ‘Where did you get the idea from?’ I asked.

  ‘Someone I know is a carer.’

  There was a sprinkling of freckles on his nose. He looked adorable. He reached for his story, his hand brushing against mine, and shivers raced up my spine.

  That night I called Brian and explained Dina’s phone call system.

  ‘Are you and Dina best friends now?’ he asked, after we’d gasbagged about the day’s happenings.

  ‘Shit no,’ I replied. ‘We’re pretending to be friends so our parents don’t know what we’re up to.’

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Because I thought we were best friends.’

  ‘Best friends?’ It was like I was in an elevator and my stomach was on the third floor, while my body was on the ground. Weren’t we more than friends?

  ‘Well yes,’ Brian said. ‘I mean Jesse is my oldest friend, but you’re the one I feel I can talk to about anything. Don’t you feel like that too?’

  ‘I guess—’

  ‘Even though we haven’t known each other for long, I feel like we’ve been friends forever.’

  ‘I do too—’

  ‘I’m glad we’re on the same page,’ Brian said. ‘I feel blessed to have a friend like you in my life.’

  ‘Me too,’ I whispered, wiping tears. ‘I’d better go. My hour is almost up.’

  ‘Okay, see you tomorrow.’

  I hung up, feeling like I was under a cement blanket. I’d been sure he was as attracted to me as I was to him. There were so many signals. We both felt like we’d known each other forever. Usually I was weird around guys, especially guys I liked, but with Brian it was different. There was nothing I couldn’t talk to him about, nothing that was off-limits. But now I was scared to see him again.

  The next morning at the oval, everyone was already there. Adnan nodded, Jesse smiled as I stood next to him, Dina waved, Gemma flicked her hair and gazed the other away.

  ‘Hello love!’ Brian grabbed me in a bear hug, lifting me off the ground. ‘Isn’t it a beautiful morning?’

  As he swung me in his arms I put my hands on his shoulders, my whole body flush with his. I smiled, full of joy. Last night’s conversation retreated like a nightmare does once you’re awake.

  ‘He’s been insufferable,’ Dina shouted.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I asked after he set me on my feet. I tried to dampen my joy. My feelings for Brian were too obvious.

  ‘The party is all set.’ Brian handed me an invitation to attend a comic book character costume party.

  ‘Who are you coming as?’ Brian demanded.

  ‘I don’t—’

  He cut me off before I finished. ‘Because I’m torn between the Riddler or the Joker.’

  ‘We all know the Riddler is out of your league, Brian,’ Dina quipped.

  ‘So you’re coming as Poison Ivy?’ Brian glared at her. We all laughed. ‘What about you Adnan?’ Brian continued.

  ‘He’d be a perfect Superman.’ Dina’s eyes zeroed in on his chest. Adnan smirked. He thrust out his chest and stood in the Superman stance with his arms crossed.

  ‘Gemma?’ Brian asked as he bummed a ciggie off Adnan.

  ‘Supergirl.’ Gemma watched Adnan. Dina’s eyes narrowed. Brian coughed on his cigarette smoke. Everyone laughed as he got his breath back.

  I relaxed as the banter continued around me. I’d spent all night tossing and turning, nervous about seeing Brian after his ‘Just friends’ talk, but I’d underestimated how easy it was to hide tension in a group. Each time I met Brian’s gaze and felt the connection between us I couldn’t believe that
he didn’t feel the same way. Maybe he needed time to cross over from friends to something more?

  ‘What about Jesse?’ Dina asked. ‘Who could he be?’

  ‘I know.’ Brian came to stand behind Jesse and me, putting a hand on our shoulders and pushing us closer together. ‘Peter Parker.’

  ‘He is the perfect Peter Parker.’ Dina approached Jesse and looked into his eyes. ‘Unassuming, yet has hidden depths.’ Jesse held her gaze.

  ‘That’s our Jesse.’ I put my arm around his waist. ‘Full of depth.’ Jesse turned and looked at me.

  ‘Maybe I should come as Mary-Jane?’ Dina put her hand on Jesse’s chest, forcing him to look at her again. ‘I’d look good as a redhead.’ We stood, like an abstract statue exhibit representing the promise of love.

  ‘Cat Woman is sexier,’ Adnan called out.

  Dina backed away. ‘Cat Woman it is.’ She sashayed back to Adnan and Gemma.

  The bell rang and we headed to class together.

  Hanging around with Gemma and Dina meant that I learnt more than I ever wanted to know about either one of them. Dina was sneaky. Most of her conversations were bitching about her parents or perving on Adnan because she couldn’t talk about Tony. I couldn’t figure out if she really liked Adnan or was using him as cover.

  Gemma had a pretty full-on life: she was the oldest of three children and when she was twelve her stepfather died, so she became a second mother to her four and two-year-old siblings. She also had a boyfriend, Rob, who was twenty and worked as a mechanic’s apprentice. They’d been going together for two weeks and he wanted sex.

  ‘It’s not as if we’re not doing anything,’ Gemma said. ‘I give him blowjobs—’

  ‘Yuck, that’s disgusting,’ I interrupted.

  ‘Why? It’s a natural expression of love,’ Gemma insisted.

  ‘Does he reciprocate?’ I asked.

  ‘I couldn’t let a guy go down there.’ Gemma was horrified.

  ‘So you’re the only one expressing your love,’ I stirred.

  Gemma turned away and spoke to Dina. ‘So I give him blowjobs, but now he says it’s not enough.’ Gemma chewed on her nail. ‘I always wanted to wait until I married.’

  ‘So wait,’ I said. She was shitting me. We’d been having the same conversation all week.

  Dina shot me down. ‘Bullshit. You can’t marry until you’re eighteen. No guy will wait two years.’ Gemma’s head moved from side to side as she watched us, her mouth hanging open like a clown at Luna Park.

  ‘If he loves you he will,’ I said.

  ‘No guy can hold out for that long.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Spoken like a virgin.’ Dina smiled.

  ‘Is there something you want to share?’ I needled her.

  She glared at me before turning back to Gemma. ‘I’m sure he’ll wait.’

  ‘See.’ I grinned at Gemma. ‘You should wait.’

  Gemma came to school a few days later with red eyes. Dina took one look at her and hugged her. ‘You did it, didn’t you?’

  Gemma nodded and sobbed in earnest. ‘He cried and said that if I loved him, I’d do it. So I did.’

  I opened my mouth to rip into Gemma about her being conned, but Dina shook her head at me.

  The next day she looked sad and confused. ‘We did it again last night and it still hurt,’ she mumbled. ‘He said there was a bone that had to loosen and then it wouldn’t hurt as much.’

  Dina and I gaped at each other. ‘There’s no bone that has to be broken,’ I said. ‘There’s only a hymen, but not all women have that.’

  ‘Yes, there is,’ Gemma insisted.

  ‘It shouldn’t hurt the second time,’ Dina said cautiously.

  ‘How would you know? You’re still a virgin!’ Gemma was getting agitated and didn’t try to hide her scorn. Suddenly ‘virgin’ had become the worst insult.

  Dina stared at the ground.

  ‘Sounds like he doesn’t know how to turn on a woman, so he’s spinning a yarn,’ I said.

  ‘What would you know, virgin?’ Gemma spat.

  Unfortunately more than she would ever know. Because Mum had treated me as her confidante since I was ten years old, I definitely knew more about sex than I needed to. One of the things Mum talked about was how, if a woman wasn’t turned on, her natural lubrication wouldn’t kick in and sex would hurt.

  ‘I know better than to fall for an idiot’s fake tears,’ I retorted. Gemma was so stupid.

  ‘Neither of you even has a boyfriend,’ Gemma sneered.

  I opened my mouth, about to let loose about how boyfriends were not compulsory.

  ‘You’re right,’ Dina interjected, shooting me a glare. ‘All that matters is that you’re happy.’

  Gemma smoothed her hair back. ‘I am. I’m very happy.’

  When I got home I heard Safet’s greasy voice from the living room. Since I’d caught him and Mum having sex I’d avoided him by hiding out in my room whenever he was over. Thankfully he and Mum were spending more time at his house. I dumped my backpack in my bedroom, debating whether I could stay there until he left. But I was starving: waiting wasn’t an option today.

  ‘Merhaba,’ I said as I entered the living room. Dido and Edin were playing chess. ‘What’s there to eat?’ I asked Mum, ignoring Safet sitting at the kitchen table. Mum opened her mouth to chastise me, but thought better of it.

  ‘Mutusha,’ she said, scarcely containing her irritation at me. Mutusha was a baked pancake mixture with chopped potatoes and, in a rare gesture of maternal devotion, Mum served it to me. It was pathetic to see her bending over backwards to be the good mother in front of her family.

  ‘Where did you get the bike?’ She nodded through the open back door where my bike was propped against the stairs.

  Typical. I’d been riding the bike for nearly two weeks, but she only noticed it when it was under her nose. ‘From someone at school,’ I said between mouthfuls.

  Mum stopped washing the dishes. ‘Did a boy give you the bike?’

  ‘No, I traded it.’

  ‘What did you trade?’ Mum asked suspiciously.

  I knew where her mind took her. ‘I traded my music,’ I said quickly.

  ‘You’ll have to return it,’ she said.

  ‘Sure.’ Mum frowned at me like I was a reptile about to strike. ‘The minute you start driving me to and from school the way real parents do, I’ll return it.’

  ‘Don’t speak to your mother that way,’ Safet said.

  I turned to him and had a flashback of him naked. ‘Don’t tell me what to do,’ I said as I held onto my stomach, hoping the mutusha wouldn’t make a comeback.

  ‘Treat Safet with respect,’ Mum said, like she was reciting a mantra.

  ‘I give respect to those who earn it.’

  ‘What homework have you got today?’ she asked.

  ‘Why? Do you want me to do “home work” and clean the house for you?’

  ‘I want to supervise and make sure you do it.’

  I realised she was serious and snorted with laughter as I stomped back to my bedroom. Mum washed the dishes, banging the pots and pans until Dido shouted for quiet.

  The next day I came home to an empty house. So much for Mum supervising my homework. I was in my room when I heard them return. Mum called me and with a grunt I rolled off the bed. In the living room I sat in the armchair and flicked through the channels with the remote.

  ‘We visited your school,’ Mum said. Safet sat down next to her on the sofa.

  ‘What?’ I shouted, and turned off the TV.

  ‘After our conversation last night I realised you were right.’ She read from the piece of paper in her hand. ‘You’re behind in English and have to catch up.’

  ‘Hold on.’ I raised my hand. ‘The two of you—’ I pointed at them ‘—went and spoke to my teachers?’

  Mum squirmed and glanced at Safet.

  ‘You had no right!’

  Dido walked in. ‘Stop screaming girl.’ He
took off his coat and hat.

  ‘We’re disciplining Sabiha,’ Mum said.

  ‘You don’t have any rights over me!’ I shouted at Safet.

  Mum took Safet’s hand in hers. ‘You need to think of Safet as your father.’

  I leaped to my feet. ‘He is not my father!’

  ‘Nevertheless, Safet and I will be supervising your homework from now on.’

  ‘No you won’t!’ I was getting louder.

  ‘Quiet!’ Dido shouted. ‘Bahra, explain.’

  Mum was smug. ‘Safet and I met with Sabiha’s teachers.’

  ‘Sabiha go to your room.’ Dido commanded.

  ‘But—’ I started.

  Dido had gone quiet, but he was all the scarier for it.

  I was about to slam my door when I heard Dido speaking. He hadn’t closed the sliding door to the living room. I left my door ajar so I could eavesdrop.

  ‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ Dido said. ‘Safet is not Sabiha’s father and he should not be involved in disciplining her.’

  ‘But Babo, it’s like you said, she has no respect for me.’ Mum was moaning.

  ‘Then come to me,’ Dido said.

  ‘I didn’t mean to step on anyone’s toes,’ Safet said. ‘My daughter would have been her age by now and I wanted to help.’

  ‘Sabiha has had a lot of people come in and out of her life and she needs the stability of her family,’ Dido said.

  ‘When Bahra and I are married things will be different.’

  My heart nearly stopped as I waited for Dido’s response.

  the interloper

  ‘When are you getting married?’ Dido’s voice was now so soft I could scarcely hear him.

  ‘In a few months time,’ Safet answered with a cringing smile.

  ‘Bahra, leave us,’ Dido said. Mum tiptoed into the hallway. ‘Bahra isn’t like other women,’ Dido continued. ‘She needs someone who understands her special needs.’

  ‘Of course, I understand her condition,’ Safet said.

  ‘Having children is stressful for any woman her age, but with her illness—’