The Fall and Rise of the Amir Sisters

‘Don’t worry, don’t worry.’

Her dad was very good at vague affirmations, at least.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Her mum made some allusions to weddings and decided to cite as many women as possible from their community who’d got married recently to ‘very good men’.

‘Jay’s abba, shall we go to bed?’ asked their mum after they’d cleaned up, had tea and settled in the living room again.

Their dad was watching the news, eyes glued to the television.

‘Hmm? Yes, I’m coming.’

‘Fancy watching a film, or are you going home?’ Bubblee asked Farah.

Farah hesitated. ‘Actually, I’ve just messaged Mus to say I might stay over here tonight.’

‘Farah, you shouldn’t leave your husband alone like this,’ said their mum.

‘No,’ added Bubblee. ‘Grown men never know how to look after themselves.’

‘Bubblee, when you are married you will see,’ said their mum.

Bubblee simply sighed and pretended to read something on her phone. It was actually the job vacancy at her gallery that she was looking at. At first it was a tab she opened every day. Now it remained open and she refreshed it every time she picked her phone up.

‘He’s fine,’ replied Farah. ‘He’s already in bed, anyway. I suppose he’s tired.’

‘Jay’s abba, do you hear that? Bed.’

He looked up for a second. ‘I will be up.’

Their mum paused, giving him not quite so pleasant a look, before leaving the room and walking up the stairs.

It was half an hour later when their mum’s voice came booming from upstairs, calling for their dad. He sighed, switched off the television and looked at Farah and Bubblee.

‘Goodnight, my girls.’

Before leaving the room, he turned around and said: ‘Farah, one night here is enough, yes?’

With a smile, he turned back and walked towards his waiting wife. Bubblee raised her eyebrows at Farah.

‘It just never stops annoying me,’ said Bubblee. ‘The backwardness of this place.’

Farah shrugged. ‘You can’t change people’s views when they get to that age.’

Bubblee paused. ‘But you were in the kitchen with Mum, trying to change her views on my getting married anyway, weren’t you?’

Farah stood up and adjusted the cushion from the sofa their dad had just vacated. She looked around the room for other things to fix.

‘Mum’s Mum,’ she replied before her eyes settled on Bubblee. ‘That’s a big decision you made. Leaving work.’

‘It made itself.’

Farah turned the sofa her dad had been sitting on away from the television and opposite Bubblee. ‘You didn’t tell me, any of us.’

‘In the grand scheme of things it’s not important, is it, Farah?’ Bubblee knew this could lead into another silent argument, leaving things unsaid while feelings brimmed.

‘You’re still angry about what I said that day, aren’t you?’

‘What do you think?’

Farah crossed her legs at the ankle, looking so composed Bubblee thought that no matter what happened, Farah would never fall apart.

‘Bubs, I didn’t have enough sympathy in me for both of us. I’m sorry.’

She looked earnest.

‘Yet I managed to have some for you,’ replied Bubblee.

Bubblee felt like a miser; an emotional Scrooge. Never had she really considered her lack of compassion, not until this moment when she was recounting how she had managed to give some to her sister who was unable to conceive a baby. Perhaps she was always too engrossed in her work and becoming an artist. The two shouldn’t be mutually exclusive but compassion also required the time to listen and she had very little of that when she was in London.

‘You know that feeling that you were made to do something?’ said Farah.

Bubblee raised her eyebrows.

‘Sorry, yes, you do. I feel as though my life’s somehow incomplete, that there’s this gaping hole that can only be filled with a baby.’

‘Are you sure it’s just the baby?’ said Bubblee. ‘I know you said you felt like this before the accident, but since then it just seems… like you’ve become obsessed in a way.’

Bubblee could see Farah retreat; an invisible barrier appeared. But she couldn’t stop now – she had to say it or what was the point?

‘In a way that feels… not wholly present.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘Just that you’d never have let Mustafa go home alone like that before, or stay the night here.’

‘So? Why is everyone making such a big deal of this?’

Bubblee quietly sighed. ‘Okay, it doesn’t matter.’

Her own refrain surprised her.

‘I guess you think you also failed at creating something,’ said Farah.

‘Created plenty – just nothing worth anyone actually seeing,’ said Bubblee wryly.

‘You might find something else?’

‘Will you do the same if you can’t have a baby?’