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She turns on her heel, leaving me no choice but to follow her. As soon I step into the cafe, I’m hit with the scent of coffee, and the first thing my eyes land on is a pink neon sign on the wall that reads WE CAN BE HEROES JUST FOR ONE DAY.
I try to internalize the positive vibes of the sign as I follow Anushka to the table that’s closest to the cafe door, but as we get nearer to the group my heart beats faster, and fear takes root in my chest. When we finally reach the table occupied by three others, Anushka slides into the booth effortlessly.
Leaving one seat for me. Right at the head of the table.
‘Hi,’ I offer, my voice sounding weak to my own ears.
‘Hey, you want to sit down?’ the girl closest to me asks. She’s wearing a powder-purple hijab and holographic purple highlighter that accentuates her cheekbones so beautifully.
Nur Hadi.
I pull back the chair and tentatively sit down. I twist my satchel round to rest on my lap, relieved to have something to hold on to. Maybe I can use it as cover against the inevitable insults about to be thrown in my direction. There’s a beat of awkward silence before Anushka breaks it by taking the lead.
‘So, I’ll just introduce everyone to you really quick,’ she begins. My gaze follows her pointed finger to the lanky boy with a soft, round face and silky brown hair that sweeps over his forehead, sitting on her right. ‘This is David, and I know he looks like he’s really young, but from the way he acts, we know he’s actually ancient –’
‘Only twelve months older than her,’ David interrupts with an eye-roll. ‘Nice to meet you, Farah. The guy beside me is Ben.’
My gaze slides to Ben, taking in his closely cropped curly hair, his dark skin, his warm brown eyes and the kind smile he’s throwing my way. He even leans over to shake my hand. ‘Seconding D; it’s really nice to meet you, Farah.’
‘And I’m Nur,’ Nur says as soon as Ben lets go of my hand. ‘We didn’t get to virtually meet last night, but I read your post this morning.’
At the mention of the post, my stomach cramps harder. I was right; they knew it was me from the very beginning. And I need to own up to my mistake now.
I straighten my spine and breathe in deeply. ‘It’s really nice to meet you all, and I want to start by apologizing. What I did was wrong on so many levels. I should never have written your stories without asking for your consent, but I promise I kept it as vague as possible. I made sure not to mention any of your names, or details about who you guys are. Or your university names. I referred to us – you – as The Tragedies the entire time. Still, I should have asked you first, and I have no excuse for what I did. I was angry, so angry. Like, if I was a cartoon, steam would’ve been coming out of my ears. But it was a mistake –’
‘A mistake?’ Anushka interrupts.
It takes me a second to realize she looks amused. In fact, they all look deeply entertained.
‘None of us here think what you did last night was a mistake,’ Ben adds gently. ‘I actually thought it was pretty awesome that you were able to voice what we couldn’t.’
Unexpectedly, a sudden bitterness sweeps through me. I only wrote The Tragedies’ stories – not my own. Their encounters felt weightier, and my rage was more for them than myself. But here Ben is, praising me for being so vocal, when I can’t really verbalize how I felt about my LSDCATS experience.
That’s not their burden to deal with, so I let a small smile curve my lips. ‘Still, I’m sorry. I should’ve asked you guys.’
‘OK, yeah, you should’ve asked us,’ David says bluntly. ‘In principle, we should’ve been asked. But we don’t mind. So, you’ve apologized, and we accept.’
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say back, but thankfully Anushka picks up where David stopped.
‘So, you’re probably wondering why we invited you here today, and I think this is going to really clarify things,’ she says, handing me her phone.
The screen shows my tweet and a reply to it from an account that didn’t exist last night, called @TheTragedies.
@TheTragedies: WE ARE EXTREMELY EXCITED AND HUMBLED BY YOUR SUPPORT. IT’S WITH THIS KNOWLEDGE THAT THE TRAGEDIES ARE THRILLED TO ANNOUNCE THAT WE ARE FORMING OUR OWN STUDENT-LED PLAY. FOLLOW FOR MORE DETAILS SOON.
‘Woah,’ I mumble, falling back into my seat.
‘You didn’t see this?’ David asks curiously.
I shake my head. ‘I deleted Twitter and Tumblr off my phone because of all the notifications. But this is you guys?’
‘Us. All of us,’ Nur corrects, and a kernel of warmth takes root in my heart.
I came here expecting to be, quite frankly, verbally massacred by a group of strangers, and to attempt to put a balm over a wound I’d created. I didn’t expect this. A spool of anticipation suddenly tightens in me as I envision a new future, one that may lead to me standing on a stage once again. I know I don’t really belong in The Tragedies – not yet, at least. They’ve known one another longer; they probably trust each other more. But a part of me so desperately wants to be included. It’s the same part that was so anxious about fixing my relationship with them before coming here.
When they say ‘us’, I want to believe it includes me too.
‘So, what’s the plan?’ I ask, unable to hold back the questions I have swirling in my mind. A student-led play celebrating marginalized voices sounds like an amazing idea, but it also feels a little too good to be true. ‘We form our own play – who’s going to be the director? The writer?’
