The cake hasn’t even been brought out by the time Ishu and I take our leave, quietly sidling out of the front door, leaving the loud thumping of the music behind us.
Nobody seems to notice us leaving. Nobody seems to care.
Least of all Aisling and Dee.
“I should call Amma.” I slip the phone out of my pocket. Before I can give my thumb print Ishu places her hand on mine, closing it over the phone.
“It’s a nice night, you know,” she says. “Maybe we can walk … my house isn’t too far from here.”
“But—”
“You can stay over, if you want.” Ishu shrugs, like she doesn’t care either way—which is not exactly the best way to be invited to spend the night at someone’s. Still … I can tell Ishu really does want me to stay over from the way she slumps her shoulders and looks away, like she doesn’t want to look too eager about it.
“Sure,” I say. “That would be okay, I guess.” It’s nice to actually be invited somewhere after tonight’s disaster.
Ishu smiles, and my breath hitches at the sight of it. She smiles so rarely that each one—the genuine ones that light up her entire being—feels like a gift. Like something private she has only reserved for me.
“Come on then, follow me.” She turns and begins to lead the way. We’re both in heels, wearing flimsy dresses. Even though the night is surprisingly nice now—clear and cool—we’re not exactly dressed for a walk.
When we’re far enough away that we can’t hear the party anymore, and instead we’re surrounded by the sounds of the nighttime—silence broken by the soft whooshing of the wind and the sound of leaves rustling—Ishu finally speaks.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“I … guess.” I’m a little afraid to hear her question, especially since she’s looking ahead instead of meeting my gaze.
“Why … do you never curse?” I don’t know what kind of question I expected, but it definitely wasn’t this. I can’t help the giggle that escapes my lips. Ishu looks at me with a raised eyebrow and an amused glint in her eyes.
“It’s a serious question,” she insists. “I’ve been curious.”
“Well … because … I’m Muslim,” I explain once my giggles have died down.
“What?” Ishu actually looks a little taken aback. Considering everything that happened at the party just a few hours ago, I don’t think she should be.
“Yeah …” I say slowly. “It’s just something that’s important for me. Like going to the mosque for jummah during school holidays and reading the Qur’an every weekend.”
“I’m assuming your friends don’t know this stuff about you.” Ishu says it less like a question, more like a fact.
A feeling of shame blooms somewhere deep inside my chest but I try to push it down.
“No … they don’t need to know.” I shrug.
“Why?” She sounds genuinely curious. She even steps closer so our fingers are almost brushing against each other as we talk. Like she doesn’t want to miss a word that I say.
“Well … I don’t … want to be too much, you know?”
Ishu blinks at me slowly. “I can’t ever imagine you being … too much.”
I chuckle. “I mean, like … I don’t want to be too … Muslim. I don’t know where the line is that you cross over to be too much. Once you cross it people start acting like you’re different and weird, and then you’re the outsider.”
“Like what happened today?” Ishu asks. There’s a tinge of sympathy in her voice that fills me with discomfort. I rub my elbows with my hands, even though it’s not really that cold anymore.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“You know, you should be able to be yourself with your friends. If being Muslim is important to you … you should be able to share that with them,” Ishu says.
“It’s not that easy.” I shake my head. Ishu doesn’t get it. Ishu is the type of person who doesn’t care what other people think of her. That’s why we’re here, pretending to date each other. Because Ishu needs to pretend she cares what other people think of her. But she’s never had to stretch herself, change herself, bend herself, to fit in where she doesn’t belong.
“Do you believe in God?” I ask instead. An easier thing to discuss than this somehow.
“God, no.” Ishu scoffs.