I Can't Think Straight by Shamim Sarif Page B

was away from home and lonely and…’ Tala stopped talking and pulled back, pulled away.
    ‘And now?’
    ‘This is not a way to live, Leyla,’ she said. ‘It’s not easy. It’s not acceptable.’
    ‘We didn’t break any rules last night, Tala.’
    ‘We did where I come from. Nobody lives like this. Not openly.’Leyla sighed. ‘You live in the West now.’
    Tala looked down, her voice hoarse. ‘Yes, but I don’t think it’s acceptable to cheat on your fiancé anywhere in the world.’
    The silence that sat in the room felt profound, with nothing to break it but the occasional passing car. Tala saw Leyla nod and close her eyes. Carefully, she moved closer to her on the bed, cradling the girl in her arms and kissing her head and face.
    ‘What happens now?’ Leyla whispered.
    ‘I don’t know,’ Tala said, kissing away a tear that had escaped from Leyla’s tightly shut lids. ‘I really don’t know.’
     

Chapter Eight
    There was very little talk between them in the car back to London. Even after they had dropped Lamia off in Sloane Street to shop, they both sat without speaking, the silence resting between them like an uninvited guest . Tala’s hand instinctively went to Leyla’s and she held it with a kind of desperation.
    ‘Stay the night with me,’ Tala said, quietly. ‘Please.’
    ‘And then what?’
    Tala shook her head. There was a blank wall in her mind where the answer to that question ought to be. Leyla shifted in her seat and leaned to kiss Tala’s mouth.
    ‘Please stay,’ Tala asked again. ‘I can’t be away from you tonight.’
    They pulled up outside her house.
    ‘It’ll just make it all worse,’ said Leyla.
    Nevertheless, she opened the car door and got out, watching while Tala placed the key in the lock and swung open the heavy front door. She had stopped thinking for a while now, had been unable to focus on anything but Tala’s scent, her taste, the memories of the night before. It was a physical need pushing at her, and Leyla knew there were so many things to consider, so many possibilities to talk about, and yet, as soon as Tala closed the front door, she found herself crushed against her, kissing her with a passion that had no reason or control. All she could feel was the tension of Tala’s legs against and between her own, the touch of her lips on Tala’s neck, as they staggered together into the living room, where the sofa lay so wide and empty.
    Tala couldn’t have said what it was she heard that caused her to suddenly hold back as Leyla was pulling her down towards her. Perhaps a creak, the way that floorboard in the hallway outside always creaked when your foot hit it a certain way. But she stood up, her hand still entwined with Leyla’s, and turned just in time to see her mother standing in the doorway.
    After she had calmed down, Reema had called Lamia back and they had spoken at length, after which Reema had at once formulated a plan and woken up early to take the flight to London that very morning, accompanied by reinforcements, including, as usual, her faithful housekeeper, Rani. It was Lamia who, of all her children, at least took the time to really communicate with her, to convey to her myriad details, precise images, thoughtful deductions. It made for more interesting conversation than Tala’s quick overviews, or Zina’s accusatory complaints. And among the deductions that Lamia had made within a few hours of her arrival in Oxford, was that her elder sister was once again in thrall to some unknown person, and that this person was not Hani, and far worse, was not a man at all.
    It was immediately clear to Reema that she had arrived just in time. She took in the little tableau before her: Leyla on the sofa, Tala standing above her, clearly surprised. The sudden shift which they made away from each other was further evidence, if any were needed, that something untoward was in the air. Sweeping in, Reema kissed the air by her daughter’s cheek, brushing