Twice Shy

12 TWICE SHY

It's Saturday, which has a new meaning now that I'm still getting used to.

In our old life, if I wasn't scheduled to work we never spent Saturdays at home. I'd go browse the library by myself and occasionally stops for pastries, while Ilyaz hung out with his friends: Tristan, Salman, and Ravya—the ex he's "just friends" with and who loves to tell me I look tired. I don't care that she's married and blissfully devoted to her husband. I'm never going to like her.

Salman's indifference toward me evolved into jealousy after our Rukhsati, as if I'm a usurper stealing Ilyaz away from him. One-on-one, he's all right. Get him into a large group setting, and he tries to be a comedian. When this happens, all of his jokes are about Ilyaz. He takes little jabs at him constantly, smiling while he does it, which disguises his put-downs as playful ragging. Ilyaz's appearance takes a lot of hits. Nice khakis. You stopping by the country club later? Every time he makes fun of an item of Ilyaz's collection, it vanishes from his wardrobe circulation. He's stopped wearing the Cartier watch his parents got him for graduation, for instance. Whenever Ilyaz uses a big word, Salman makes a mean sound between a scoff and a snicker, and says, "you think you're at spelling bee or something?"

Since I'm not allowed to rip his throat out and have been instructed to keep my mouth shut whenever he "jokes around" (Ilyaz is in denial that the remarks bother him), I've stopped going to social events if I know Salman is going to be there. I've asked numerous times why Ilyaz puts up with this, and reading between the lines of his bullshit responses I got the true gist: He was the first guy who wanted to be his friend in college, and now he feels like he owes him eternal loyalty. He'll let all of Salman's comments slide with an "Oh, c'mon" and an embarrassed laugh.

Offending people who treat him badly is not in his nature, so I'm proud of Ilyaz for growing a backbone and ignoring his recent texts: Come over and help me move, asshole. Salman demanding that Ilyaz help him move is pretty ballsy, considering he was nowhere to be seen when the shoe was on the other foot and we had to hire professional movers.

Strange enough, the person who Ilyaz has been hanging out with most nowadays is my former co worker, Umer. To go hiking. Twice. He won't tell me what they talk about and has called me conceited because he thinks I assume they're talking about me (which is true, but I bet they do).

Today we're feeling particularly antisocial. Ilyaz and I are too busy torturing each other to leave our little house of hatred.

It starts with the joke I can't stand.

We're on opposite ends of the couch, playing on our phones. (He's gotten a new one for himself.) I'm reading a news article because I need to stay on top of current affairs. This way if Ilyaz starts talking about a subject he just heard about, I can say, "Oh, I already heard that." It's an excellent thing to do to someone you despise when the object of your despise is a pretentious know-it-all. 10/ 10, would recommend.

I mutter and murmur about the news article. When he doesn't ask what I'm reading about, I just go for it with a gasped, "Oh my god.".

"Yes?" He raises his eyebrows questioningly, like I just spoke his name. He knows I hate it, and I think this gives him life. I'm adding minutes to his life span with my annoyance.

"I hate that joke."

"Some people find it funny."

"Nobody finds it funny."

"Gets a laugh from Rabia every time."

Rabia Akter. Senior Architect. With as often as Ilyaz has mentioned her, I won't lie to you, when I met her for the first time I was hoping she'd be a grandmotherly type, smelling of baby powder. Twice his age, in self-knitted sweaters with cats on them. A proud furbaby mom with a jolly old husband she loves so much she calls him on every break.