“What kind of work do you do?” Ali asked.
“I work at a nail salon. What about you?”
Grandfather Abdul placed a slice of the pie that he’d warmed in the oven on a plate and set it in front of me.
“Ali drives a minicab,” he said.
I didn’t know what that meant, so they explained that it was not an officially licensed taxi, but a private car hire. Ali was paid by the hour to drive one of several cars owned by the person who ran the company. He didn’t own his own cab, and he wasn’t officially employed. Ali mostly worked the night shift. I didn’t know what to say about that, so I asked him: “You’re not working tonight?
Ali glanced at his grandfather before saying: “It’s his birthday tomorrow.”
Grandfather Abdul, who was standing at the sink, let out a hearty laugh.
“I was born so long ago that I can’t even remember the date anymore, but he always remembers for me.”
“Actually, I forgot too. Mum called to remind me,” Ali said with a laugh.
I tucked into the pie and had a cup of tea afterward as well.
“Ali’s parents live in Leeds,” Grandfather Abdul said. “I keep telling him to move in with me, but he’s stubborn.”
Ali just laughed and didn’t say anything back.
“You and Luna should come back tomorrow and eat dinner with us. Have you ever had Punjabi food?”
“No, I haven’t. I’ll let her know.”
“I would invite the other neighbours, but they all live with their families.”
He seemed to feel apologetic about the fact that he was only inviting the two of us. I’d wanted to get to know him better for a while, as he’d made such a nice impression on me, and here I was getting to know his grandson as well.
The following day, as luck would have it, Luna and I were able to leave work an hour earlier than usual; as the salon was closed the day after, Uncle Tan didn’t object to our leaving early. Luna and I stopped at a takeaway place and bought some Malaysian Chinese food. She warned me that Muslims didn’t eat pork, and selected shrimp and chicken dishes as well as vegetable-fried rice made with mushrooms and bamboo shoots. When we got to the apartment building and started walking up the stairs, the smell of cooking wafted down the hall. There were so many different nationalities under one roof that whenever a holiday evening rolled around, the building was filled with all kinds of food smells, though no one ever complained.
We rang the bell, and Grandfather Abdul opened the door. He was wearing his usual long tunic over a pair of shalwar trousers. Luna and I each greeted him by saying, “Happy Birthday, Grandfather!” Ali smiled at us; he was standing at the kitchen sink. The table was already set with big plates stacked with lamb kebabs and chicken curry with green chillies. When we filled some empty plates with the takeaway food we’d brought, Grandfather Abdul’s small table was completely full.
Ali prepared ready-made chapatti by heating it in a dry frying pan. Ali placed the bread in a basket, and the four of us sat around the table. Grandfather Abdul poured chai for everyone. As Muslims didn’t drink alcohol, it seemed we would have to skip the birthday toasts. Before we began eating, Grandfather Abdul said a prayer that began with “Bismillah”. Ali prayed with him. We were so hungry that we ate and ate.
Ali’s parents and younger sister lived in northern England, in Leeds. His father moved to Britain from Pakistan after he turned five, and had grown up in this building, but moved to Leeds for work when he turned twenty. Grandfather Abdul said that back in his home country everyone from grandfather to grandson and grandson’s wife lived under the same roof; he added that it was the only way to maintain close family ties. After dinner we had coffee and sweet almond cookies. I was completely stuffed. Ali blinked his big eyes at me, his eyelashes sweeping up and down, as he told his grandfather: “I’ll be right back. I’m going to walk Bari home.”
Grandfather Abdul smiled and didn’t say anything. Luna looked at me and opened her hands wide, as if to say she was at a loss for words. Ali snuck a paper bag out from under the sink and hid it beneath his shirt. We all said goodbye to Grandfather Abdul and headed down to the basement. The moment we stepped inside our flat, Ali put his right hand to his chest, bowed his head and apologized.
“I can’t smoke or drink in front of my grandfather,” he explained.
Luna said to me: “I don’t care if you don’t care.”
“I don’t care,” I said.
Ali poured us a little of the whisky he’d brought. Then he lit up a long Pakistani cigarette made with whole-leaf tobacco. He looked happy as he gulped down the whisky. Luna drank too, grimacing as she did so, and I tried a sip only to break into a coughing fit. Ali seemed completely different away from his grandfather.
“I didn’t think I’d make it through dinner!” he exclaimed. “I can’t drink so much as a single drop of beer around him.”
Luna sipped the whisky and said sarcastically: “It’s better to be British. Muslims have too many things they’re not allowed to do.”
“I am British,” Ali said.
Luna snorted.
“The asshole who beat me every day was born here too,” she said. “I don’t care if someone is Hindu or Muslim or whatever. I don’t trust anyone.”
Ali didn’t look offended. He poured himself another glass, but this time he sipped it rather than downing it all at once.
“My father and grandfather don’t get along. But my mum worries about him a lot.”
“Don’t you visit him often?” I asked.
Ali cocked his head to one side.
“Maybe about twice a month,” he said. “I prefer living by myself, but whenever I do come to visit, I feel more relaxed afterward for some reason.”
Luna took out a pack of cards and we played at the table. I don’t know if Ali lost on purpose or if he just had bad luck, but we won about thirty pounds from him. Luna and I rejoiced at having earned some fun money for the weekend. We played until late into the night, and when it was time for Ali to leave I followed him to the door so I could lock it behind him. At the door, he whispered to me:
“You have the day off tomorrow, right?”
“Yes.”
“Would you like to take a drive out of the city with me?”
Clueless as to Ali’s feelings for me, I turned and shouted to Luna: “Ali wants to hang out with us tomorrow!”
Ali shook his head, and Luna barked with laughter.
“Hey stupid, he’s asking you out! Why would I want to be a third wheel?”
Finally I understood and shut the door in his face. I looked through the peephole. Ali stood there for a while and then slowly turned and went back up the stairs.
“You’ve got an admirer,” Luna said teasingly. “This is where ladies like us have to be careful.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“That big elephant of a man is coming after you!”
Ever since I’d had that vision where my spirit split from my body, I’d stopped fearing any man. Uncle Lou, the chef from Shanghai Chinese Restaurant, had guessed what happened to me, but Uncle Tan and the employees of Tongking probably had no idea. I was still just a poor little thing. I wasn’t surprised when my first period started so late, back when I was working at the restaurant. Xiang had warned me early on about a lot of things I would need to know, and as far as I was concerned I’d already become a woman long before that.
I did not take that drive with Ali to the countryside, but I did come to think of him differently, with those big eyes and that big body of his. Men and women are not the same, of course, but Grandfather Abdul’s warm and caring nature made me feel that my grandmother had been reborn and returned to me. Ali, on the other hand, was just an oversized, immature boy — and maybe that was why I was so comfortable with him from the get-go.