I Can't Think Straight by Shamim Sarif

girl with such pride, in a way she had never looked at Lamia herself.
    ‘That’s nice,’ Lamia said, trying to make an effort, but Tala just rolled her eyes.
    ‘Hey, Leyla,’ Tala said with a grin. ‘Maybe you can publish an edition with pictures in it. For my sister.’
    Lamia began to gather her bag and coat in preparation for leaving. With Tala in such a flippant mood, and after all the insults she had endured over lunch, there was no chance that Lamia would ac-company those two to dredge through another museum. There was a spa in the hotel where she could while away the time before their meeting with the college Dean, and anyway, Kareem would be placing his usual call after lunch to check on her and see how she was.
    Walking together through the streets that separated the old colleges of the town, Leyla looked around, taking in the elegant, stone buildings upon which smudges of afternoon sunlight were smeared like streaks of amber pollen.
    ‘That sweet city with her dreaming spires’ said Tala. Leyla looked at her, surprised.
    ‘That’s a Matthew Arnold quote,’ she said. ‘How did you know it?’Tala raised an eyebrow. ‘Do writers have a monopoly on reading poetry?’
    Leyla smiled in acknowledgement.
    ‘Look, I’m sorry if Lamia is a bit hard to take,’ said Tala, changing the subject. ‘I don’t understand anything about her any more.
    The way she spends her time, her views on things. Her marriage. It’s exactly that kind of conservative, controlling relationship that I’ve always wanted to avoid at all costs.’
    ‘So your fiancé’s not like that?’ Leyla asked. Tala had spoken very little about Hani when they were together, and Leyla had found herself having to remember to ask about him.
    ‘Hani? No. He’s an Arab, born and brought up in Jordan, but he’s not like the rest. He’s very gentle. Very kind. I know exactly who he is. There’s no game playing.’
    ‘He sounds wonderful,’ Leyla smiled, and she tried to dispel the touch of disappointment that she felt at Tala’s glowing appraisal of her fiancé. It was wrong and as Tala’s friend she should be thrilled.
    But then Tala’s own eyes were dark and reflective as she looked off towards the church, from which a delicate chime floated across to them, naming the hour.
    ‘He is. He really is,’ said Tala, uncomfortable suddenly. ‘At least, I can’t find anything wrong with him,’ she joked. But her brows were drawn in, and her smile melted away too quickly.
    ‘Why are you trying?’ Leyla asked. It was a bold step, and Leyla was still a little surprised she had taken it, but it clearly touched a raw spot of some kind, for Tala turned away a little, folding her arms about her.
    ‘It’s four,’ Leyla said. ‘You should go to your meeting with Lamia. I’ll meet you back at the hotel later.’
    Tala nodded and they walked together to the main road, where Tala hailed a cab and hurried into it, pausing only briefly to wish Leyla a pleasant afternoon. Leyla watched the cab drive off until it turned out of sight, but Tala did not glance back to wave.
    The fork-sharing and general cosiness over lunch had left Lamia quite nauseated. During the meeting about the charity event (which seemed to drag on forever) she kept her sunglasses on, using the dark lenses as a cover through which she watched Tala as she spoke with the Dean. Her sister looked better than she had in a while, Lamia thought, sort of healthy and glowing, although it wouldn’t kill her to do something with her hair occasionally. But she didn’t have Lamia’s sense of style or fashion, nor was she quite skinny enough, and as far as Lamia could ascertain, her fledgling business hadn’t made money yet. And yet she seemed to appear permanently pleased with herself. Frankly, why she was cavorting around Oxford for a weekend with some girl when she had wedding preparations and a fiancé to attend to, was beyond her. Lamia was not sure whether she liked Leyla. She was