The Registrar by Neela Janakiramanan

Author:Neela Janakiramanan [Janakiramanan, Neela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allen & Unwin
Published: 2022-05-17T00:00:00+00:00

The law firm has booked out the whole restaurant. Through the window, I can see there’re more people here than I expected. My phone dings with a message from Will and it’s a relief to have to take a moment to answer before I contemplate walking in.

I’ve made myself presentable. Shamsi brought my favourite teal jumper that he says brings out the colour of my eyes and my best heeled boots and even a belt to glam up my jeans. I catch my reflection in the window. On any other day I’d say I looked great and that this was totally appropriate for this trendy restaurant, but inside there’s a sea of designer dresses and blonde hair. I’ve met the WAGs before and they’ve always been lovely, yet, I hesitate.

And I realise it’s not them, it’s me. It’s not even how I look; it’s what I’ve turned into and how I feel inside. When it comes to small talk, I haven’t watched the news or read the paper, I haven’t been to a football game or out to a new restaurant. I haven’t even watched a TV show. At home—when we talk at all—we talk about my work, and who here wants to hear about the petty politics of a small Orthopaedic unit? Our last holiday was our honeymoon and I don’t think anyone’s interested in what you did six months ago, are they?

But here I am and there’s nowhere to flee, so I put my phone in my bag and push the door open. The cacophony is startling. I stop and then Shamsi’s at my side. With his hand on my waist he steers me to the middle of the room and re-introduces me to the other partners.

And slowly, I remember what it’s like to engage in normal conversations about things that aren’t full of gore. Shamsi even leaves me for a while and I see him watching me from across the room with the first genuine smile in some time. And when we walk out into the gentle drizzle of a winter evening, the world feels fresh again. Fresh enough that I can see with clarity that it’s not just Shamsi who’s been rattled by Andy failing his exam, but also me. Because I’m not sure that I’m all that different from my brother. And if Dad thinks Andy failed because of some character flaw, not because he didn’t work hard enough or study enough or care or try, then he’s right. I’m in trouble too.

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