No Sex in the City (9 page)

Just then Mum walks in. ‘Deserves what?’ she asks. Her eyes fall on the money in my hand. ‘Oh, that’s sweet, Mehmet,’ she gushes, giving him a warm smile. ‘Always so generous with your family.’

Dad mutters something under his breath and quickly leaves us alone.

I play heavy metal in my car all the way to the restaurant. But as loud as the music pounds in my ears, I can’t drown out the voice that warns me that my parents’ marriage will be buried forever if my mum ever finds out about my dad’s guilty secret.

I meet Yasir at an Italian restaurant in Drummoyne. When I see him I get that funny feeling in my stomach. I walk over to him and his smile is so genuine, so warm, it makes me melt.

We don’t hug or kiss (although I’m obviously thinking about what it would feel like), just shake hands and take our seats. Granted, I’m far from being the world’s most religious person, but if there’s one thing I won’t compromise on, it’s my ‘no touching before the ink dries on the marriage certificate’ rule (except for shaking hands – ooh, how positively scandalous!).

We order our entrées and I can’t help but wonder what’s going on in Yasir’s mind. I wish I could just come out and ask him whether we’re on the same page: whether our getting to know each other is for the long-term. But I’m not suicidal. I’m not going to bring up the C word with a guy I’ve known for seven days.

Yasir’s phone vibrates on the table, jolting me out of my nervous thoughts.

‘Sorry,’ he says, checking his phone. ‘It’s work. Just give me a sec.’

‘Problems at work?’ I ask when he’s put his phone away.

‘A bit of a disaster, actually. I’m scared to tell you. Given your low opinion of builders.’

‘You’re changing that, so don’t worry.’

‘Am I now?’

‘Slowly.
Very
slowly.’ We grin at each other. ‘So what’s the problem?’

‘I arrived at the house we’re building today to find that the painters have painted the walls in the wrong colour. Electric blue. Throughout the entire house, mind you. Not just one feature wall. You would think they’d have realised something had gone amiss in the paint delivery. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever come across an electric-blue house before.’

‘What a nightmare.’

‘It’s our mistake, so we have to wear the cost.’

‘That’s terrible.’

‘It could be worse. I had a job once where a contractor I hired to do the plasterboard did such a dodgy job that I refused to pay him. He got me back by putting a carton of milk in the cavity of one of the walls and sealing it up.’

I burst out laughing.

‘Of course, the milk went off pretty quickly and the stench was overpowering. We had no idea where the smell was coming from. It was only when we had the plasterboard removed by the new contractor that we found the carton of rotten milk!’

‘You’re supposed to be redeeming the construction industry’s image, remember, not validating my low opinion of it.’

‘Hey, short of mopping the floors with Chanel No. 5, I did everything I could to get rid of the smell. I went the extra mile. See what a nice builder I am?’

‘Very nice,’ I admit. And at least your job has its moments.’

‘And what moments do you savour in your work?’

‘Ah, now that’s a tough one.’ I tap my fingers on the table as I think. ‘Strangely enough, pharmacy recruitment does have its fair share of amusing anecdotes. A couple of weeks ago I reviewed an application for the position of pharmacy assistant from a guy who put down as his reference a female escort who had apparently been a male pharmacist for ten years before an operation and career change.’

We go on like this for the rest of the evening, laughing and swapping stories. If you can laugh with a guy for a couple of hours, I reckon it’s a safe bet that you’re onto a good thing.

It was Brooke Shields who once said, ‘Smoking kills. If you’re killed, you’ve lost a very important part of your life.’

There are some statements you simply can’t take back. And that’s the way it is tonight.

I’m standing beside Ruby and Lisa at Anil’s thirtieth. Nirvana’s brought us along as support, and because Anil wants to meet her friends (a big step in any relationship).

It’s a barbecue lunch at Anil’s family’s mansion in West Pennant Hills. Nirvana has filled us in on the family background. Anil’s parents divorced when Anil and his sister were young. It was apparently quite a scandalous split, with Anil’s dad running off with a friend of the family. Anil’s mother struggled on her own until she struck gold, marrying a very wealthy man, and was effectively able to throw that in the face of everybody who’ d whispered and gossiped behind her back.

For a family of four, the house is gigantic. I’m talking seven bedrooms, three studies, four rumpus rooms
and
a glass lift.

‘This kind of wealth is obscene,’ I say to Ruby and Lisa as we stand in our huddle, holding onto our drinks (fruit cocktail for me) in the enormous alfresco area surrounded by manicured hedges and lawns and overlooking a stunning lap pool. ‘I mean, who really needs this much space? And a lift? How excessive is that?’

‘The lift is for my grandmother,’ a voice behind me says. ‘She can’t walk.’

I turn to face Anil. ‘Um, sorry ... that was so rude of me ... I didn’t mean to—’

‘—insult your friend’s boyfriend’s paralysed grandmother?’ Anil says, a severe expression on his face. ‘Don’t worry about it! It’s
so
cool.’

I look down at my shoes, trying to avoid his eyes. Then Anil laughs loudly. ‘Gotcha!’

Relief washes over me.

‘The house
is
pretty over the top,’ he says.

I don’t dare nod in agreement or smile too enthusiastically. ‘No, no, I was just joking,’ I say, trying to sound as sincere as possible. ‘It’s an amazing home. It should be on one of those television shows. Your family obviously has beautiful taste.’

Nirvana joins us at that moment and Anil puts an arm around her.

‘We have expensive taste,’ Anil boasts. ‘If you work hard you deserve the best of everything your money can buy. That’s the philosophy my stepdad and mum raised me on: excellence in everything.’ He proudly puffs out his chest as he glances at Nirvana. Then he squeezes her towards him and she grins up at him. ‘This house cost one and a half million dollars to build,’ he continues. ‘The interior decorating cost another million. Come into the family room and I’ll show you ...’ Anil takes Nirvana’s hand in his and starts to lead us back into the house where we’re ambushed by a young couple.

‘Anil, is this Nirvana?’ the girl squeals.

Anil smiles proudly. ‘Nirvana, this is my sister, Neela, and her husband, Sunil.’

Sunil has the typical look of a guy being dragged to a party. He looks Nirvana up and down, grunts a hello and stands to the side, giving off a very strong wake-me-when-this-is-over vibe. What he lacks in social graces, Neela makes up for in over-the-top enthusiasm.

‘You’re gorgeous!’ Neela cries, grabbing Nirvana’s arm. ‘Come and let me introduce you to the rest of the family. Anil’s told me so much about you. My mother and stepdad won’t be here until later. We’ve kicked them out until cake time.’ She drags Nirvana away, Anil and Sunil following. Lisa, Ruby and I are forgotten.

The three of us turn to face each other. We’re silent for a moment, although I can almost read their thoughts. Sure enough, Ruby, as direct as usual, is the first to voice them.

‘We’re in trouble.’

I give them a look and nod slowly.

‘How do we pretend to like him?’ Lisa moans.

‘What does she see in him?’ I whisper. I know it’s a harsh assessment and first impressions are often deceiving, but how do we look past the bragging and vanity, especially when Nirvana is so humble and modest?

Ruby thinks for a moment and then says with a sigh, ‘Look, everybody has their redeeming qualities. So he’s a bit of a show-off. From what we’ve seen so far, and all Nirvana’s told us, he’s put her on a pedestal, and we couldn’t want more for a friend. He’s romantic and she’s head over heels. And maybe he’s a great cook. Well read. Champions women’s rights.’

‘Feeds the poor and needy and donates blood every week,’ I add.

Lisa laughs and then says, ‘We’ve got to like him for Nirvana’s sake. Focus on his good points.’

Nirvana comes rushing up to us a while later, while we’re standing over the buffet table helping ourselves from the countless varieties of Indian cuisine on offer. In the middle of the long table is a dazzling feature: a massive chocolate fondue fountain. No expense has been spared.

‘He has good taste,’ I whisper to Lisa.

‘Well, he likes Nirvana, doesn’t he?’ she whispers back.

I smile as I help myself to fresh naan bread.

‘Having fun?’ Nirvana asks us in a chirpy voice. She looks radiant, her eyes all sparkly, her cheeks dewy, her long hair loosely curled and hanging down her back. ‘Anil’s family’s great! And they like me!’

Ruby snorts. ‘Don’t act so surprised.’

I place my hand on Nirvana’s arm. ‘Ruby’s right,’ I say. ‘Liking you was never in any doubt. When do his parents arrive?’

‘They should be here soon.’ She lets out a nervous giggle. ‘I’m so worried!’

‘Don’t be!’ Lisa reassures her as we walk over to an empty outdoor table. ‘You’re the girlfriend every parent dreams about for their son.’

Anil’s parents arrive shortly afterwards. Lisa leans in close to Ruby and me and says, ‘His stepdad is the spitting image of Master Splinter from
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
.’

Anil’s mother, on the other hand, is regal. High cheekbones, bright hazel-green eyes and a stylish bob.

We watch them sweep down on Anil, smothering him with kisses and hugs. They take a step back and Anil grabs Nirvana’s hand. He looks at her with tenderness and affection, unable to wipe the goofy grin off his face as he introduces her to his parents.

All night we watch Anil dote on Nirvana, refilling her glass, offering her food. Neela hovers close by, grinning at them both, and seems genuinely welcoming of Nirvana. Sunil has slunk off to the games room and is watching TV (I know because I saw him there when I went to the bathroom).

After we’ve sung happy birthday and Anil’s cut the cake, Anil leads his parents over to us.

‘Mum and Papa, these are Nirvana’s best friends,’ he announces proudly.

Master Splinter and Anil’s mother smile warmly at us.

‘Welcome to our home,’ Master Splinter says. ‘Ever since Anil met Nirvana he hasn’t stopped talking about her. We’re delighted that he’s so happy and has found such a lovely lady.’

We all give the obligatory ‘Ohhh’ in unison, and Nirvana and Anil beam.

‘Yes,’ Anil’s mother adds. ‘Any friends of Nirvana’s are now our friends too. You’re welcome here any time. Come over for a swim. There’s a jacuzzi and sauna too. Pamper yourselves, especially in these hot days.’

‘How about tomorrow at eleven?’ Ruby jokes, looking at the lap pool.

‘Of course, of course,’ Master Splinter says in a booming voice.

Suddenly Anil’s mother engulfs Anil in another big hug. ‘I can’t believe my baby is thirty! I know mothers should never play favourites,’ she says conspiratorially, leaning in closer to our huddle but looking at Nirvana, ‘but Anil has always been such a wonderful son!’

Anil laughs and Nirvana smiles at them, although I can tell she’s a little overwhelmed. Neela, who has walked up to our group with Sunil dragging his heels behind her, laughs and says, ‘It’s okay, Nirvana. I’m from the same womb but even I can’t compete with Anil.’

‘Christ,’ Ruby mutters under her breath.

‘Oh, Neela,’ her mother coos, pinching Neela’s cheek. ‘You’ve always said that, but you’re my daughter. I love you just as much as I love Anil.’

‘Oh, come on, Mum,’ Neela says playfully. ‘Anil is Mr Perfect and always has been.’

I study Nirvana’s face. She’s trying her best to smile, but I can tell she’s wondering how much truth lies under the banter.

‘Anyway,’ Anil’s mother says, turning to Nirvana, ‘Neela’s with her in-laws now, as it should be. She’s such a good daughter-in-law. I’m so proud of her. Isn’t that right, Sunil?’

Sunil hasn’t been listening to a word of the conversation. He’s been standing silently cradling his drink as he looks around, examining the guests.

‘Sunil?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Neela’s been a wonderful daughter-in-law to your parents, hasn’t she?’

‘If you say so.’

Anil’s mother is oblivious to his tone and flashes him a triumphant smile, as though she should be rewarded for all her daughter’s redeeming qualities.

Neela looks uncomfortable now. ‘I’m just going to get myself a drink.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Sunil mumbles, clearly desperate to escape. ‘I need another one.’

‘Anil’s always been dependable, caring and
so
sweet,’ Anil’s mother continues, oblivious. ‘Do you know what he did for my birthday? Sent me and Papa on a holiday to Hawaii!’

Nirvana’s face muscles tense for the slightest moment. Anil’s arm is around her and he’s grinning at his mother and rolling his eyes, although he’s not being rude. I get the impression he’s used to his mother talking about him like this but that he doesn’t really take it very seriously.

We, on the other hand, don’t have the luxury of expressing our true feelings and are forced, for the next ten minutes, to listen to Anil’s mother gush about how Anil has always been the perfect son and how the girl who steals his heart should count herself as the luckiest girl in the world.

Maybe I’m overreacting, but if there was a panic button handy and I was in Nirvana’s shoes, I would be pressing it.

‘Question,’ Ruby says in a commanding voice. ‘You’re talking to a guy on the phone. The conversation is going really well, in fact beautifully, until you hear the flush of a toilet.’

‘Ew!’ Nirvana and I cry in chorus. Lisa chuckles quietly.

No Sex in the City is at a café in Leichhardt tonight.

‘He keeps on talking as though nothing has happened,’ Ruby continues. ‘So I ask him if he’s on the toilet and he denies it. I say, “But I just heard a flush,” and he says, “Yeah, that was my brother.” So I ask him if he normally joins his brother in the toilet and he laughs and admits that, yes, he was in the toilet. So I tell him I can’t be with someone with such a different sense of hygiene to me. I mean, even though I’m a Gemini, I have some Virgo characteristics. I just can’t handle the thought that this guy is talking to me about how much he loves my curly hair while on the toilet! So I hang up on him and delete his number, just in case I’m tempted to call him back in a moment of weakness.’