I take a photo of Abba with the polling station sign before he goes in with the rest of the men from the mosque. I tell Abba that I’ll wait for him in the car.
As soon as Abba is inside, I pull my phone out of my pocket. I haven’t spoken to any of my friends for so long that it feels strange to pull up the group chat with Dee and Aisling.
Hey … are your parents voting for my dad today?
I hit send before I can think about it too much. After all, just because we’re in a fight doesn’t mean that we’re not friends anymore. Right?
Aisling’s reply comes almost immediately: oh, so now we’re okay to talk to?
I heave a sigh. I don’t know why I expected anything more from Aisling. I wait for her to say something more—yes, her parents were still voting for Abba, or no, they aren’t. But there are no more messages.
chapter forty
hani
IT’S ALMOST TWENTY MINUTES BEFORE ABBA FINALLY comes back to the car. Waving goodbye to all the Uncles, he opens up the car door and slips inside. He lets out a sigh of relief as soon as the door clicks shut behind him and leans back in his seat with his eyes closed.
“I wish I could vote,” I offer when the silence stretches out for a few minutes too long. “That would be one more for you.”
Abba finally blinks his eyes open, a small smile appearing on his lips. It’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen on him all day. “Hani, you’ve already done more than enough for me and for this election,” he says. “I mean … going to the mosque with me all the time, getting your friends to come and support me during rallies, gathering up your friends to help you canvass … putting up with Salim Uncle.”
“He’s not … that bad,” I say, trying to muster up a laugh. It feels hollow, because all I can think about is how Abba thinks that I went above and beyond to support him. When really … I could be the reason that he loses the election. And he won’t ever even suspect it.
Abba’s smile widens. “I know that you and your Amma aren’t exactly his fans, but … he’s an important member of the community. Without him, I’m not sure I would even have a chance at this election. Though I guess, even with him, I’m not sure about my chances.”
I shift in my seat, pulling at my seatbelt and wishing that Abba would just start the car. That we could just go home so I can try and put what I’ve done out of my mind. Except … I don’t know if I can. What if Abba loses this election? What if that’s because of me?
The car jumps to life as Abba starts the ignition. His knuckles are white against the steering wheel as he pulls out of the car park and onto the road. All the while, my mind is whirring. For the past few weeks, I’ve been thinking about all the lies that I’ve told—to my friends, to Amma and Abba … and wouldn’t things have just been better if I told the truth to begin with? I definitely wouldn’t be in this mess if I had.
So by the time Abba parks the car in front of our house, I’ve made up my mind about what I’m going to do.
“Abba,” I say, unbuckling my seat belt as he puts the car in park.
“Hmm?”
“You know how I told you about my friends?” I ask slowly. “The way that … they don’t always listen to me. And … well, everything that’s happened with Ishu?”
“Right.” Abba nods. “Did something else happen?”
“Well …” I look out the window, at the rain rolling down the glass. It’s coming down much harder than it was this morning, and I can hear the raindrops hit the gravel of the road. “The other week … when you asked me to take my friends canvassing … I don’t know what happened. I shouldn’t have listened to them, but … I guess, I let them talk me into not doing it. I thought I’d make up for it later, but I … didn’t.” It sounds worse when I say it. I can barely get the words out. Because I’m not even sure who’s to blame here.
For a moment, there’s only silence inside the car, punctuated by the sound of the rain outside. When I glance at Abba, he’s staring straight ahead, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“Abba … I’m sorry.” My voice comes out in a whisper. Abba just shakes his head slowly. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
“So, when Salim said that nobody canvassed around his house, it was because of you and your friends,” Abba finally says. There’s a strange calmness to his voice that fills me with dread.