The Fall and Rise of the Amir Sisters

With which she pushed her parents out of the door and looked at all her sisters. Bubblee was shaking her head with a smile and even Farah managed to laugh.

‘Don’t speak like that to people when you get to uni,’ came Fatti’s voice. ‘You’ll never make friends.’

Mae emptied out the bin bag that Bubblee had filled and said: ‘I’ll make the ones worth keeping, thanks. Plus, you can’t choose your family but at least I’ll get to choose my mates.’

The sisters got to work as Mae passed the clothes she’d be taking to Farah, who put them in a box and labelled them. They spent the next hour or so in relative silence, Fatti excusing herself in a rush to use the bathroom, and occasional conversations revolving around how petite Mae’s clothes were, which didn’t mean they should be worn in public.

‘Whatevs,’ she’d reply.

‘Books,’ said Bubblee, picking up a stack from Mae’s shelf, and one that seemed to have fallen behind the rest of them. ‘Which ones are you taking?’

‘Oh, wait.’

Mae leapt up and took them from Bubblee’s hands, putting them back.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ said Bubblee, still holding the one that had fallen.

She looked at it. The Myth of Choice: Female Sexuality and Getting it Right.

‘What kind of book is this?’ said Bubblee.

‘Nothing, leave it,’ replied Mae, snatching it from her. ‘Just, I’ll sort out the books last.’

Bubblee raised her eyebrows and turned back to Sellotape a box shut. Mae felt the colour in her cheeks rise. She didn’t even know why it mattered what books she did and didn’t read. Some things just interested her more. She didn’t have to justify anything, but that didn’t mean her family wouldn’t always try and make her.

She and her sisters looked up when they heard their mum’s raised voice. Mae scampered towards the door and opened it to get a better listen.

‘Mum never raises her voice,’ said Farah, also leaning in closer.

‘Don’t eavesdrop,’ added Fatti.

‘You lie back down, preggers,’ retorted Mae.

‘What are they saying?’ whispered Farah.

‘Shhh.’

Mae crept to the top of the stairs, leaning over the bannister for better earshot.

‘Calm down, calm down, Jay’s amma,’ she heard her dad say.

Silence. Then there was clattering in the kitchen. Mae waited for more but nothing else came. She walked back into the bedroom to her sisters’ expectant faces.

‘Useless. They stopped as soon as I got to the stairs. Apart from Dad telling Mum to calm down, I got nothing.’

‘How odd,’ said Bubblee. ‘Although hardly shocking, a man telling a woman to calm down.’

Mae smiled fondly at her sister. There was something to be said for people who were annoying all the time, because at least they were consistent. Their mum appeared at the door again, this time with some kind of drink concoction for Fatti. She went and handed the cloudy, dishwater-type stuff to her eldest and then sat on the bed.

‘Thanks, Amma,’ said Fatti, barely touching the mixture with her lips before running to the bathroom.

‘Poor girl,’ said their mum, looking after her.

Farah, Bubblee and Mae looked at their mother who seemed to have made herself quite comfortable.

‘Don’t worry,’ she added, looking at Farah who’d already begun folding clothes again and looking resolutely at the floor. ‘Your time will come somehow.’

Mae wanted to shake her head. Her mum still didn’t get that Farah didn’t want vague platitudes, she needed concrete solutions. Fatti came back in and sat on the bed, closing her eyes. She picked the glass up again.

‘Now,’ said their mum, ‘are you and Mustafa having the sex?’

Fatti spewed out bits of the cloudy drink, covering her top with it.

‘Amma,’ exclaimed Farah.

‘Zi, you can’t get a baby without the sex.’

‘Oh, my actual God,’ said Mae.

‘Mae, you leave the room. You are too young for this talk. Bubblee, you too.’

‘Mum,’ they both exclaimed.

‘I’m in my thirties,’ said Bubblee.

‘You are still unmarried.’

‘This is why I’m going off to uni. At least there I’ll be treated like an adult,’ said Mae.

‘Only if you act like it,’ said Bubblee.

‘No one has to leave the room,’ said Farah, ‘because we’re no longer having this discussion.’

Their mum looked unimpressed. ‘You are just like your abba. He never talks about things either.’

‘Listen, I’ve been to the doctor again…’

Farah looked at everyone. Mae noticed her voice waver. ‘He started going on about IVF and surrogacy and God knows what, but I’ve gone for more tests. Perhaps something will be different this time.’

‘Oh, Faru,’ said Fatti. ‘Things might change.’

Farah smiled. ‘Well, let’s not get our hopes up.’

The evenness of her voice suggested to Mae that Farah’s hopes were already sky high.

‘Make your prayers and Allah knows best, but don’t worry about the results. The answer is so simple,’ said their mum. ‘Fatti, you have this child now and give the next one to Faru, just like your amma gave you to me. Finish story.’

‘Bloomin’ ’eck,’ said Mae. ‘Talk about pass the baby parcel.’

Farah paused. ‘Sorry, Amma, but there’s no way I’d put a baby through what you put Fatti through.’

Their mum looked at all of them, confused. ‘What did I put her through? I loved her more than any of you.’

Fatti’s face looked flushed as she stared at her hands.

‘Knew it,’ said Mae.

‘Of course you did, Amma,’ replied Fatti, taking her mum’s hand.

‘No,’ interrupted Farah. ‘No way.’

‘Fatti,’ said their mum, looking at her. ‘You will give her your next baby, won’t you?’

‘It’s not like she’s giving me her old winter coat, Amma,’ said Farah, glancing at Fatti.

There was silence. Everyone’s eyes rested on Fatti, whose gaze was still firmly on her beautiful hands. She looked up.

‘Anyway,’ said Farah. ‘Like Fatti said, the doctor might have some good news.’

More silence. Mae wasn’t keen on silences.

‘You girls think I am a bad mother,’ said their mum. She was looking around at all of them as if in accusation. ‘You have your what’s-happening group and talk about these things, I know.’

‘WhatsApp,’ corrected Mae.

‘Of course not,’ said Fatti, looking horrified.

Bubblee chose to carry on filling the bin bags.

‘I see you,’ continued their mum, looking at Mae, ‘always on the phone, messaging and laughing. When I ask who you are speaking to you say it is your sisters.’

Maybe Mum was having a late-life crisis? She looked around at all of them.

‘What do you talk about?’ she asked.

‘Nothing,’ replied Farah. ‘Just… stuff. Like sisters do.’

‘Yes, you are lucky,’ said their mum. ‘So many of you. Ask me. I am alone.’

More silence. It wasn’t like their mum to talk about feelings. Thank God Fatti was there, who insisted that she wasn’t alone.

‘But you don’t put me in your group,’ their mum replied.

Mae glanced at Bubblee from the corner of her eye. Bubblee looked at Farah.

‘Look,’ exclaimed Mae, lifting up a floral summer dress. ‘Remember when Fatti and Farah got me this to try and make me dress more like a lady.’

Mae needn’t have bothered to try and change the subject.

‘Jay’s amma!’ came their dad’s voice.

‘Your abba and me are going for a walk.’ Their mum sounded exasperated at the very thought as she got up. ‘I would rather stay here and sit with you, but…’ She sighed and looked at Farah. ‘Remember, as long as you are having the se–’

‘God, no, Amma,’ the girls exclaimed in unison.

Their mum got up, gave them all another look, and left the room.

‘What the hell just happened there?’ said Bubblee.

Farah and Mae shuddered. The sooner Mae got out of this house, the better it’d be for her brain and self-awareness. To be told to leave the room at the mention of sex! She looked at Bubblee.

‘Bubs,’ she said, laughing, ‘looks like you and me aren’t so different.’ She threw her cargo pants at her sister.

‘Do you think Mum’s okay?’ said Fatti.

‘She’s probably just having a bad day,’ said Bubblee. ‘Unless you want to add her to our WhatsApp group?’

‘Well, no, but…’

‘The problem with Mum,’ said Mae, ‘is that her youngest is leaving the nest and she doesn’t know what she’ll do without me. Obvs.’

Bubblee rolled her eyes.

‘Or maybe she’s really sad,’ said Farah, sealing another box. ‘Maybe she does feel alone.’

‘But she has Dad,’ said Fatti.

Farah raised her eyebrows. ‘I love Dad, but it’s not as if her needs come first. I mean, I know something about that,’ she added pointedly.

‘Trouble in paradise, eh?’ said Mae.

Fatti shot her a look. Farah pushed the box to one side.

‘It’s as if you’re expected to be a mind-reader,’ said Farah. ‘One minute everything is fine and happy and the next…’ She shook her head. ‘And it’s always about them. Why is it that when women have problems we manage to go about things just the same, get on with it, but men? When they have problems the whole house comes to a standstill. Everything’s about what they want. What they need.’

Bubblee was nodding, vehemently, while Mae was considering it all as if it were marginally interesting.

‘Since the accident, it’s always about Mustafa,’ added Farah.

Fatti cleared her throat. ‘Did you want to start taking these boxes downstairs?’ she said to Mae.

‘I know, I know,’ continued Farah, ignoring Fatti. ‘His life changed, but so did mine and all because of him.’

Mae saw Fatti shifting uncomfortably. She and Mustafa might not have become close since realizing they were brother and sister, but she never did like talking about him behind his back.

‘This is why marriage as an institution is so flawed,’ said Bubblee.

‘Here we go,’ said Mae.

‘You’re bound to one another into this state and there’s this focus on compromise and having to make allowances, but why?’

Farah sighed. ‘Because it’s adult life.’

‘Says who?’

Farah looked at Bubblee as if she were crazy. ‘The world?’

‘The old world,’ corrected Bubblee.

‘I’m so glad Mum left when she did,’ said Fatti. ‘Bubblee would’ve given her a heart attack with all this anti-marriage talk.’

‘Women needed men back then,’ said Bubblee. ‘But we don’t need them for money any more. We can make that ourselves.’

‘And what about babies?’ asked Farah, the colour in her cheeks rising. ‘Where do we go for those?’

Silence ensued again as Farah looked away and the others glanced at one another. After a few awkward moments, Mae said: ‘One of your sisters, obvs.’

She jabbed her thumb towards Fatti. ‘Just like we got her.’

They all paused. Fatti laughed, so did Bubblee, and before they knew it they were all laughing. After a few minutes Farah shook her head.

‘Still needed a man, though.’ Farah stared at Bubblee. ‘Are you really okay with being alone for the rest of your life? Really?’

‘Better than being with someone and still feeling alone,’ she replied.

Mae wondered what it was like to think of such big questions in life. She looked at each of her sisters and knew that whatever questions they were asking each other, or themselves, they weren’t her type of questions. They heard the front door close, then footsteps come up the stairs. Jay poked his head in, said hello, and went into his little room to sleep for the rest of the day since he’d been doing deliveries all night.

‘Although things could be worse,’ said Bubblee when he left. ‘A person could be married to someone like Jay.’

Mae laughed as they spent the next few hours finishing up the packing, her heart fluttering at the idea of all the possibilities opening up in front of her.

The following day there were tears. Bubblee had to dab the corners of her eyes in case someone saw. She remembered when she was going to university and how different it had been. How she had to fight with her parents, especially her mum, in order to follow her now ambiguous dream. Was it even worth it? As she watched Mae get into her car and wind down her window Bubblee realized that she was the most alone out of everyone. If she had actually craved some kind of love, she might’ve tried to find it. But she never did. The idea of going back to London simply filled her with dread, the way staying at home in her prime years used to fill her younger self with fear. The only person worth going back for was her friend Sasha, and she was actually moving ahead in her career as an artist. Sasha, she heard and saw with her own eyes, actually had talent. Bubblee felt the familiar twinge of envy. It used to be a rampant jealousy that drove her to stay up late at night, working on her own sculptures. Bubblee wouldn’t sleep for days, believing that she had created something extraordinary in the end. But no one seemed to see it that way. Her self-belief couldn’t withstand the constancy of other people’s indifference. Indifference is worse than hating something. Now, here she was, back at home and she wasn’t sure to which place she really belonged. Things had changed yet she felt weirdly unchangeable, as though she was set in stone – a misshapen sculpture. There was irony.

‘Love you, losers,’ said Mae, as she waved from the window and drove down the road. Farah, Fatti, Ash, Mustafa, Jay, Bubblee and her parents all waved until Mae turned the corner and was out of view. Fatti blew her nose into a tissue that Ash handed her.

‘She’s going to be fine,’ he said.

‘I know that, but what about me?’ she exclaimed. ‘My little baby.’

‘That’s why we’re getting a new one,’ Ash replied, winking and putting his hand on her stomach.

Their dad cleared his throat and looked away. Bubblee had to shake her head at how ridiculous he and all Asian people seemed to be at any display of affection. Perhaps this had scarred her? Perhaps that’s why she focused so much on her work and creating something, that she didn’t even think about the fact that she was alone until now? Maybe things would’ve been different if someone had fallen in love with her. Even then, she felt unmoved. Assigning blame to her parents didn’t make her feel much better so she decided to stop.

‘What time are you leaving tomorrow?’ Farah asked Bubblee as they walked back into the house.

Their dad sighed. ‘All my daughters are leaving. Stay a little longer,’ he said to Bubblee.

Their mum shot him a look.

‘Abba, she has work to get back to,’ replied Farah. ‘It’s a shame we can’t keep you longer.’

Bubblee wasn’t sure whether Farah was being honest or if she felt bad for the way she’d spoken about her work the other day. She decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

‘Hmm,’ replied Bubblee.

‘You should stay,’ added Fatti. ‘I could do with some help getting to the toilet bowl.’

‘Great.’ Bubblee collapsed on the sofa. ‘Time well spent for me.’

Mustafa got up. ‘I think I’m going to go home.’

Bubblee’s mum said they couldn’t leave without having dinner.

‘No, Farah, you just stay here if you want,’ he said.

‘You’re going to get a bus?’ said Farah.

He shifted on his feet. It seemed as though he still hadn’t quite got the hang of not being allowed to drive.

‘Bubblee will drive you home,’ offered their mum.

Bubblee refused to move. Why should she be lumbered with this task?

‘Don’t worry. I’ll get the bus.’

Everyone paused and looked at Bubblee. Their look was so obvious: Uncaring, Bubblee.

‘The bus comes every two hours,’ exclaimed their mum. ‘Especially at this time.’

He looked sheepish and Bubblee would almost have felt sorry for him if he weren’t being such an inconvenience. She gave as audible a sigh as possible, got up and grabbed her car keys.

‘Sorry,’ he said as he buckled himself into the seat of her car.

He looked at the back seat of her Fiat, surveying the mess.

‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘As long as you don’t comment on the junk.’

‘I was just thinking how different twins can be. If Farah saw this she’d be cleaning it up before she drove anyone anywhere.’

Bubblee simply nodded as she set out onto the main road. She didn’t often find herself alone with her brother-in-law and now that she did she wasn’t quite sure what to say to him.

‘How’s your…’ She glanced at him, flicking her head.

‘Brain?’ he said, smiling.

She smiled back. ‘Yes.’

‘It has its moments. Medicine’s keeping things in check but it’s medicine, you know?’ He paused. ‘It makes me…’

‘Yeah, Farah’s mentioned.’

‘Oh, she has?’

‘When I’ve asked how you’re doing.’

He didn’t have to know that Farah had complained to Bubblee over the past few years about his increasingly erratic moods. Bubblee wasn’t callous.

‘I didn’t think you ever asked how I was,’ Mustafa said with a smile.

‘Once in a blue moon,’ Bubblee replied.

Their mutual indifference had never really been acknowledged out loud – Mustafa’s comment was the closest they’d ever come to it.

‘Which is probably more than you ever ask about me,’ she added. ‘So there we have it.’

‘I ask about you.’

He said it so matter-of-factly that it surprised Bubblee.

‘Well. Good to know. Maybe the meds are making you a concerned brother-in-law as well as keeping you alive,’ Bubblee added.

‘Maybe.’

He looked out of the window and they spent the rest of the journey in silence as Bubblee pulled up in front of the house.

‘Thanks,’ he said.

He walked inside and Bubblee thought she saw him lean his back against the door as he closed it behind him. She waited a few moments until his figure moved and he was out of sight.

When she got back home, Bubblee said: ‘He seems to not feel great a lot of the time.’

‘Is he okay?’ Ash asked Farah.

‘He’s fine,’ she replied, not quite meeting his eye.

It didn’t seem as though Farah wanted to tell anyone else about his mood swings. Bubblee felt a sense of solidarity with her sister. Ash paused and then glanced at their parents. ‘That’s good. I just thought maybe he’s still not quite over the accident.’

‘Honey,’ said Fatti. ‘That was a few years ago now.’

‘Well, some things change people. Not that I knew him before the accident, but… anyway. I’m glad he’s fine.’

Farah gave a tight smile. Bubblee, Fatti and Farah’s phones buzzed simultaneously.

Mae: I’m freeeeeeeeee

Mae: Crap got stoppd by po-po 4 lukin @ fone. Told em I ws runnin away 4rm opresiv brown fam. Hahaha. Msg l8r xxxx

They were all smiling as Bubblee looked up. ‘She thinks she had it bad?’

‘I know,’ said Farah.

The sisters laughed as their mum asked: ‘What is so funny?’

‘Just Mae being Mae,’ said Bubblee.

‘How is she going to get through uni?’ added Farah.

Fatti put her phone away – she looked pale and sickly. Nothing like the way she had appeared a week ago. ‘She’s going to be just fine. I know it.’

‘Fats is right,’ said Bubblee. ‘She’s going to outshine us all.’

Mae’s gaping absence rendered everyone silent for a moment.

‘So, tell me, how does this what’s-happening work?’ asked their mum.

Sometimes Bubblee forgot how little her mum knew of the world and how little she tried to rectify it. How could her mum (just about) use an iPad but think an android phone was too complicated? It would be Bubblee’s worst nightmare for her life to become her home, and for that home to become an impassable bubble. And even worse would be their mum, carrying on, trying to encroach on their private group.

‘WhatsApp, Amma,’ corrected Fatti again, getting paler by the minute.

‘Do you want to go home?’ asked Ash.

‘I’m so sorry,’ replied Fatti, looking at everyone. ‘The nausea just won’t…’

She wasn’t able to make the end of the sentence before leaping up to run to the bathroom, Ash following her.

‘My poor daughter,’ said her mum. ‘But she has a good husband.’

Bubblee thought she saw Farah bristle. Perhaps she was imagining things?

‘You girls never answer me,’ said their mum. ‘I will learn to use this WhatsUp myself.’

‘Firstly, you’d need a phone that was made this century,’ replied Bubblee.

‘Hmm?’ Her mum looked confused. ‘Can I use my iPad?’

‘Well, yes, but…’ Bubblee couldn’t be bothered to finish explaining. ‘Don’t worry, Farah will get you a new phone when I leave.’

Her mouth went dry as she said this; her stomach twisted in an all-too-familiar knot of anxiety. It felt like an overreaction but she’d begun to have a physical reaction to going back to London.

‘Or maybe I will just stay.’

Farah frowned. ‘What about work?’

Bubblee moved uneasily on the sofa. There was nothing for it. She had to tell her family the truth.

‘Actually… well, in all honesty I resigned.’

‘What?’ said Farah.

Fatti and Ash walked into the room, Ash supporting Fatti as he said they were going to go home so she could rest.

‘Sorry,’ said Fatti.

‘Stop apologizing, honey,’ said Ash. ‘They understand.’

They both left.

Farah had hardly taken her eyes off Bubblee. ‘But your work is your life.’

This didn’t make Bubblee’s stomach settle very well.

‘Bubblee,’ said their dad, leaning forward. ‘You don’t have your job?’

‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ asked their mum with a look that was far too much like satisfaction.

‘Because of that look,’ Bubblee mumbled.

‘What?’ said her mum.

‘Because there was already enough going on here, wasn’t there?’

‘What about your flat where you were living?’ asked Farah.

Bubblee paused. ‘I’ve given it up. Couldn’t afford to stay without the job.’

‘Oh,’ replied Farah.

‘So then you must stay,’ said her dad, hardly watering down his smile or his pleasure.

Her mum cleared her throat. ‘Yes,’ she said, apparently unsure. ‘Maybe one week? Two?’

This was different. Normally her mum would’ve been ecstatic at the idea of Bubblee staying home for as long as possible – moving back home, in fact.

‘You don’t sound that pleased, Amma?’ said Bubblee, a smile on her lips.

Wasn’t that just the way? There was a time her mum would’ve begged her to stay home and now it was Bubblee who was the beggar. How could she afford to live in London without a job? What was she meant to do with her life?

‘Of course she is pleased,’ said her dad, rubbing his hands together. ‘We both are.’

Their mum played with the edge of her paisley-patterned sari. ‘Your abba likes to answer for me.’

Farah and Bubblee looked at their dad. He shifted his gaze to the carpet before looking up and smiling at Bubblee.

‘One daughter gone and another is back.’

‘Not permanently,’ said Bubblee, leaning forward. ‘It’s just until I sort out what I want to do. I won’t be here for ever. Anyway, I can stay with Sasha in London as long as I need when I decide to get back.’

He just met this with another smile. There were parents in the world who’d have been steeped in disappointment at their child leaving a job; asking why they left, pushing for future plans and giving lectures on responsibility and motivation. But no, Bubblee’s mum felt the only important thing to say was: ‘Maybe now you will have time to find a husband and settle down at last.’

Bubblee gave an exasperated sigh. ‘No, Mum. I have not given up one dream just to follow yours.’

She felt her face flush, her heart beat faster. Why couldn’t her mum be a friend to her the way she seemed to be to Fatti? Why did she never understand things? It shouldn’t matter how different a bunch of sisters were, their mum should be able to have a relationship with each of them, irrespective of differences of opinion or beliefs.