“Everyone has an accent,” I insist. I want to press on about it more. Abba being in the running for the county council elections is a big deal, after all.
But Aisling and Dee don’t get it, and I’m not sure I can make them understand.
“I guess, yeah. It was kind of boring …” I cross my arms and lean against the glass of the bus stop, trying to ignore the uncomfortable gnawing in my stomach.
Moments later, the bus pulls up in front of us, and the three of us pile on. Aisling and Dee slip after each other in the same row, and I slide into a window seat on the other side. My eyes take in the mosque passing by us as the bus begins to pull away. There’s a crowd of people going toward the mosque now. I know Abba planned to join everyone for Maghrib prayer after his speech—even though he rarely prays at home.
I wish for a moment that I had insisted on staying until the rally was finished. But we did make plans to leave at six thirty, and I guess it’s not Dee and Aisling’s fault that Abba’s speech went longer. Or that Maghrib prayer isn’t until much later. I doubt Aisling and Dee even know what Maghrib prayer is—never mind when it takes place.
“So, when we get to mine, Dee and I want to catch up on Riverdafe,” Aisling says. She had originally suggested that I go over to watch a movie—like old times, when the three of us spent our days holed up in each other’s rooms. But it feels like we haven’t done that in months.
“I’m not sure I want to watch Riverdafe,” I say, regretting the words immediately as I watch Aisling’s eyebrows furrow.
“Well, it’s two against one, sorry,” Dee chimes in.
I heave a sigh. “You know … it’s getting late. I should probably just get off at my stop and go home.”
“Seriously?” Aisling crosses her arms over her chest, examining me with a glare. “You said you would come over today if we went to your dad’s thing.”
“I said I was going to my dad’s thing, and maybe after I’d come over. You wanted to come to my dad’s thing.”
Aisling just rolls her eyes, like I had somehow forced her into the mosque against her will—like anybody could force Aisling to do anything she didn’t want to do.
“Tell your parents that you want to stay over. I’m staying the night,” Dee says.
“You know I can’t.” I sigh, turning away from the two of them. I don’t know how many times I’ve had this same conversation with Aisling and Dee. They still keep insisting.
“I just don’t understand,” Aisling says. “Your mom knows me. She’s met me. You’re always going to be safe and comfortable in my house. Why can’t you just sleep over?”
“There’s no logical reason for it, Aisling.” I’m tired of having to explain this over and over again. Especially because one day I’m afraid Aisling and Dee are going to be tired too, and their tiredness won’t lead them to accepting me as I am, but to finding someone else who can do all of the “normal” things they want to do. Like sleep over. “It’s just part of being Bengali and Muslim. It’s just … the way things are.”
“So you’re just going to go home?” Aisling doesn’t look happy from the way her lips are pressed into a thin line. I hate it when Aisling looks at me like that. She seems to do it more often than not these days; it feels like I can’t do anything to make her happy. I remember when we were in primary school—before we even knew Dee—and we used to do everything together. Back then Aisling didn’t mind so much that I couldn’t stay out late, or do sleepovers, or go drinking （which of course she didn’t do back then）。 Now Aisling seems to notice all of the little things that make us different. And she hates them all.
“I have to. It’s … going to get dark soon, and … yeah.” The truth is that Amma won’t mind if I stop by and watch a few episodes of Riverdale with Aisling and Dee and am home a few hours later. She probably wouldn’t even mind if I slept over at Aisling’s. But if I go to Aisling’s, I’ll definitely miss Maghrib, and watching Riverdale with the two of them is not worth missing that. Going over to Aisling’s means I can’t pray at all, because the one or two times I’ve mentioned prayer to Aisling and Dee they’ve gotten so uncomfortable that it made me uncomfortable. So it’s better that I just keep that part of my life wrapped up and hidden away in my own home.
“You’re coming tomorrow, right?” Dee asks, and I look away from the window and toward her. She’s wearing a bright smile.” After school … bring something to change into!”