No Sex in the City (24 page)

That gets us going again until the waiter brings out our food and Aydin raises his glass (sparkling water) to a toast. I raise mine (sparkling Coke), we clink glasses and he says, ‘To sounding cheesy.’

I go to the bathroom and when I return I venture into the more personal. ‘So what do you want in a woman?’

‘That’s easy. It starts with similar values and goals.’

I smile. ‘Me too ... although ...’

He gives me a cautious look. ‘Yes?’

‘Do you sometimes think that you’re not sure what your values and goals are? I mean, they’d have to be fluid, wouldn’t they? I don’t mean your moral code, or core beliefs. But it’s hard to predict what kind of person you’re going to be.’

‘I guess it’s all about trusting the laws of probability that the other person won’t turn out to be a complete jerk.’

I smile in agreement. ‘We sound so cynical.’

‘It’s a healthy dose. What about religion? Are you religious?’

‘I’m pretty lax with the praying and fasting. But my faith is important to me. I think it’d be nice if the guy I ended up with woke me up at dawn to pray with him.’

‘I’m not the most religious guy. I try to pray but I’m not very regular. I do fast in Ramadan, though.’

‘Do you drink?’ I ask.

He shakes his head. ‘I used to. Gave it up last year. Would it make a difference if I did?’

I pause. ‘Yes,’ I say eventually. ‘Having an alcohol-free house is a big deal to me. But I’m not going to impose that on anybody, it needs to come from them. I know I might not look like the religious type, but there are some things I try to maintain.’

‘No such thing as
looking
religious. If a person’s religious, they don’t need to show it off, or prove it to anybody.’

I love how much we think alike.

‘I think growing in faith as a couple is really important. It’s definitely something I want too. God knows, I’ve mucked around and got up to my fair share of trouble. Gave my parents a lot of grey hairs.’ He chuckles.

‘Have you got
a past
?’

He laughs. ‘I’ve been into the clubbing and bar scene,’ he says. ‘Does that answer your “how far did he stray?” curiosity?’ The grin on his face tells me he’s having fun teasing me.

‘For now.’ I grin back. ‘There’s a lot of hypocrisy in our community, though,’ I add.

‘Wholeheartedly agree with you on that.’

‘It’s more acceptable for guys to go out and fool around. But if a girl does it, it’s another story altogether.’

‘Us guys get away with a hell of a lot more. Depends on the family, of course. I’m just as answerable to my parents as my sister is.’

I cock an eyebrow. ‘You can’t expect me to believe they’d be okay with her getting up to the stuff you have?’

He shrugs. ‘That’s probably true, but in our culture there are some mistakes parents don’t want their children to make because they have such a stigma attached to them. Especially for girls. There’s no room for learning from your mistakes if that mistake happens to involve sex before marriage. That’s just the way it is.’

‘For girls. Not for guys.’

‘Yeah, well, there’s the double standard.’

‘If I ever have a son and a daughter, I’m going to give them the same rules. The same curfew. The same limits. And that includes no fooling around before marriage. For either!’

‘And how would you enforce that rule?’

‘My parents don’t enforce their rules with me. I can do whatever I want – they’re not with me every moment of the day. Ultimately, I’m the one who makes the choices about my life. They just raised me a certain way. I’ve embraced my traditions because I believe in them. That’s how I would hope to raise my kids too. It’s about trust.’

‘I like that. And it’s very true. My parents raised my sister and me like that. Only I broke their trust – I was always a sucker for a pretty girl. Still am actually.’

I smile shyly. His comment hangs in the air and it’s like a warm glow over us.

The conversation eventually shifts away from serious talk to the more light-hearted, and it’s that shift that I love the most about tonight. It’s as though we’re catching up on each other’s lives, working out whether we have what it takes to be friends – best friends.

We talk for hours, through dinner, dessert and two rounds of coffee. And when I eventually get home and jump into bed, I spend the night tossing and turning, my brain about to explode, because something tells me Aydin is The One!

Or is he?

Because the next morning I wake to my mum jumping on my bed, shouting, ‘Esma! Wake up! He sent you flowers!’

I leap out of bed. ‘What?’ I cry, still half-asleep. ‘Who sent flowers?’

‘The doctor. The tall one.’

Just in case I get him confused with the nonexistent short one.

She grabs a bouquet box of mixed flowers from the floor and presents them to me, grinning proudly. I know exactly what’s going through her mind. She has
I told you so
written all over her face.

Sure enough, she says, ‘I told you so. I told you to give him another chance. And look. He sends you flowers.’

‘Yes, Mum,’ I mutter. ‘He’s clearly perfect.’

Of course, I’m only playing the cynical card to stir her. Deep down I’m thrilled. Who isn’t a sucker for flowers?

I grab the card and read it.

Dear Esma,

Looking forward to seeing you tonight. And asking you lots of questions.

Metin

‘Why did he type it?’ my mum asks. ‘Ahh, he’s a doctor. Their handwriting is always so messy. Well, isn’t that thoughtful of him.’

I give my mum an affectionate squeeze. ‘Oh Mum, you’ really are adorable.’

I jump into the shower and then get ready for work, which is utterly depressing given it’s a Saturday. My mum’s standing outside the bathroom.

‘Make sure you call him to say thank you. Or send him a textual.’

‘A what?’ I yell out.

‘A textual. Whatever that thing is called. You know what I mean,’ she ends in a huff.

‘Of course I do, Mum. I just wanted to hear you say it again.’

I call Metin on my way to the office. He answers on the second ring.

‘Good morning,’ he says cheerfully, in a deep voice that sends shivers down ... I’ve got to get a grip.

‘Thanks for such a beautiful start to my morning,’ I say.

‘It’s a pleasure,’ he says. ‘Everything still okay for this evening?’

‘Yes. I’m looking forward to it.’

‘Me too.’

I park near my office building and grab a box of muffins and a takeaway coffee from a nearby bakery.

I rarely come in on a weekend and when I do I hate the desolation of the usually bustling city building. It’s enough to wipe off the goofy grin that’s been plastered on my face since Mum woke me up this morning.

I swipe my card at the entrance to our offices and turn on the lights. I’m the first to arrive. I go to my desk, flop into my chair and turn on my computer.

The last thing I feel like doing right now is working. All I can think about is how I’m stuck between two potentially great guys, not ready to choose between them and being unfair to both of them in the process. If the tables were turned, I know I’d be furious that a guy I was getting to know was taking out another girl as well.

I put on my headphones and hope Coldplay can drown out the confusing messages in my head.

‘Hi, Esma!’ Danny’s cheery voice cuts through my thoughts.

‘Hi, Danny.’ I force myself to go for the small talk. ‘Too quiet, isn’t it?’

‘Sure is,’ he says. ‘I brought some pastries. How about we set up in the boardroom?’

‘Okay.’ I follow him out of my office. ‘I’ve got some muffins.’ I place them on the boardroom table. ‘What time are the others coming?’

He shrugs. ‘I’m not sure. They should be here soon. How about we make a start? It’s quarter past ten and I promised I wouldn’t keep you long. They can join in the meeting when they arrive.’

I grab my notes and files from my office and return to the boardroom.

‘Did you go to boot camp this morning?’ he asks.

Oh. I forgot about that lie. ‘Um, no, I slept in.’

‘Oh, too bad. Well, it’s obvious from your figure that you work out. Good for you.’

The muscles in my face tense.

‘It’s nice to see you out of a suit,’ he says casually as he gets his papers in order on the table in front of him. ‘You look just as good.’

I mumble something unintelligible, neither thanks nor rebuke, and make myself look busy with my files.

‘So what did you have in mind for today?’ I finally ask.

He looks at the clock. ‘On second thoughts, maybe we should wait. Give them a bit of time to get here. Maybe they slept in. It’s not ideal to talk about business development when there’s only the two of us here.’

‘In that case,’ I say, standing up, ‘I’ll go do some work.’

‘Ah, come on,’ he says, motioning for me to sit back down. ‘It’s not even worth logging on to the intranet. We’ll give them another fifteen minutes and we’ll get started. What are you doing for the weekend?’ he asks brightly, taking a pastry. ‘Might as well dig in. Want one?’

I take a small croissant. ‘I’ve got plans with my friends.’

‘God, I miss being single. I know I give you a hard time about it, as a joke of course, but those really were the days. Now I’m stuck. And with Mary pregnant, there’s no way out.’

‘That’s awful,’ I say before I can stop myself. I don’t want to be drawn into a conversation about his marriage. I realise, then, that this has always been his tactic. Say something cruel about his wife and provoke a reaction from me. ‘Anyway, it’s your business. You should talk to your wife if you have issues.’

‘Well, I am trying,’ he says, grinning at me. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m heading to the shops straight after our meeting to get her a present. She’s been feeling so down about getting fat—’

‘She’s pregnant, Danny,’ I snap. ‘She’s pregnant,
not
fat.’ There I go again, falling straight into the trap.

He laughs, raising his hands in surrender. ‘Sorry, I know, I know. Well, I want to get her something to cheer her up. Make her feel sexy again, because she’s feeling so depressed about her body that she won’t let me near her.’ He pops a bite of a muffin into his mouth. ‘A man has his needs,’ he says. ‘But you don’t need to hear about that. Especially when you’ve never had a boyfriend.’

‘Danny,’ I say in a low growl. ‘Don’t go there.’

He pulls a face, failing to look contrite. ‘I’m sorry. There’s something about you that makes me forget myself. I’m clearly too comfortable with you. Let’s just start the meeting.’

‘I think we should call the girls to see where they are.’

He gives a firm nod. ‘Of course. I’ll do it right now. Give me a minute and I’ll call them from my office.’

He leaves and I rest my forehead on the table and close my eyes. This is a nightmare. I’m going to harass the recruiters next week. Night and day until I get a job. Any job. I don’t care any more. I can’t go on like this, repressing every instinct in my body to stand up to him and tell him off. I feel ashamed ... compromised somehow. I’ve always been so assertive. Demanded that people, especially guys, show me respect.

He returns shortly afterwards, a disappointed look on his face. ‘They’re still asleep,’ he sighs, throwing his hands in the air. ‘There’s not much point in them coming in now. I told them not to bother. They need an hour to get here and we want to be out of here in another hour and a half.’

My stomach plunges. I’m not going to hang around with this sleazeball all alone in the office. I stand up quickly. I don’t care how I sound. ‘Sorry, Danny, I can’t stay.’

Disappointment washes over his face. ‘Why not?’

‘I just don’t think there’s any point. All of us need to be here.’

‘But we can still get started,’ he insists.

‘Not without them. They have all the information on the new clients and amendments to the contracts. I’ll meet them on your days off next week and we’ll have something ready to show you when you get back.’ I swipe my papers into a pile, grab them and turn to the door.

Danny steps towards me and puts a hand on my arm. ‘Wait,
please
,’ he says.

I yank my arm away from him. ‘Don’t touch me,’ I say, looking him directly in the eye. ‘I need to leave.’

I run out of the office without bothering to turn off my computer. It feels like the lift is taking ages and I keep pressing the button. I’m half-expecting Danny to race after me, but he doesn’t. Finally the lift doors open. I practically jump into them and press hard on the close-doors button. And when the lift starts its descent I take a deep breath and struggle not to cry.

I call Nirvana. It’s been a while. I’ve tried getting in touch with her several times in the past two weeks but she hasn’t called me back. She messaged the other day to say she’s been busy. It’s not like her to let so many days pass between calls, but I give her the benefit of the doubt. I know her family commitments have escalated since her engagement to Anil.

So I try Ruby next. I start to tell her about what happened with Danny but almost before I can get the words out I suddenly find myself crying.

‘Esma! Hon, what’s wrong?’

Once I catch my breath I feel strong enough to talk without bawling again and I tell her everything. Except I can’t bring myself to tell her about Dad’s debt. It’s not my shame that stops me. It’s his. And there’s something inside me that feels such a tender pity for him that I can’t bear to expose him, especially when he sets such store on being respected by my friends. So of course Ruby’s only getting half the story; she doesn’t know what’s preventing me from acting on what is blindingly obvious: that I need to get away from Danny.

‘He can’t get away with that kind of disgusting behaviour. Who does he think he is? Esma, financial security and being employed is never enough of an excuse for suffering through harassment. Report him and move on. Put your welfare first.’

I feel suffocated, but I don’t say anything. Ruby’s right. But right and wrong have no place when it comes to family loyalty.

I have the solution to the problem of renewable energy. Arrange for Metin to stand in front of me then hook me up to a generator.