Being Emily. Anne Donovan
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the place for us. We’ve been here since I was seven. It’s dead handy for the shop.
The shop was a pharmacy. Since his da’s death his uncle ran it; Jas’s ma helped out during the day and Jas efter school.
Jas and me sat side by side on his bed. The cover was blue too, with gold and silver stars and moons patterned over it.
Is your uncle a pharmacist too?
No but my cousin Harpreet, my uncle’s daughter, is. And when I qualify, I’ll be able to take over. Harpreet’s getting married and she wants to have her own business with her husband.
So you’re gonnae be a pharmacist? Just like your da.
That’s the idea. I already have a place at Aberdeen Uni for next year.
I smoothed a wrinkle in the cover. Somehow I’d assumed Jas would go tae Art School. Or study literature at uni. Or even be a politician, change the world. I couldnae see him in the shop for the rest of his life, giving out prescriptions and stacking boxes of cold remedies on plastic shelves.
What about your art?
He shrugged. I’d love to … but it’s a hobby.
I stood up, walked round the room. Everything tidy, books neatly arranged on shelves, desk clear except for his computer. On the wall above the chest of drawers hung a framed photie of two boys, the older one with his airm round the wee brother. Identical pairs of brown eyes but I could recognise the line of Jas’s mouth in the wee one.
Me and Amrik. I was five, just about to start school, and he must’ve been eleven. He was in Primary Seven and it was so cool having a big brother in the playground.
You had long hair then, I said. Their hair was tied in a topknot under a navy blue cloth.
Like a real Sikh, you mean?
I just wondered if it was a big deal, when you cut it?
We’d never really talked about Jas’s religion. I’d always taken for granted his version of Sikhism, just as, I guess, he done the same with me being Catholic.
Jas stood beside me, looked at the photie.
Ever since I can remember I was taught that a Sikh doesnae cut their hair because the body is a perfect creation of God. You have to look after your hair, keep it clean and combed, tie it up – that’s how it was when I was wee. Sometimes I’d get slagged about it but no that much because Amrik was always ahead of me, kind of paved the way. Then when he got to about fifteen he started tae wear his hair out, tied it back in a pony tail instead of on top, under his turban. My da was pissed about it but Ma kept the peace. Amrik looked dead cool, like a pop star. And of course I wanted to be like him but didnae dare.
Then it was time for me to start secondary school. My primary class went on a visit and I was the only Sikh boy with my hair up. There were a few snidey comments. Amrik was in sixth year and about to leave so he wouldnae be there to protect me.
The first day of secondary came and I was scared. I left the house looking normal then ducked intae a close on the way, pulled my hair out and tied it back in a pony tail. It was down to my waist. I went to school like that and no one said a word. There were lots of looks and a few teachers thought I was a girl but I didnae care – somehow wearing my hair out like Amrik made me feel strong.
At the end of the day I was all set to put my hair up on the way hame. I walked out the school gate and there was my da, come tae meet me. All the time I was at primary and he never came to get me out of school, was always working, and he had to choose this day. Can you imagine what it was like? I nearly dropped to the ground and his face, well, it was all contorted. I just stood there; all these kids streaming out of school on either side and this guy in a suit and a turban in the middle of them getting shoved every way. I was working out what to say to him when he turned and walked off. Never spoke a word.
I was terrified to go hame, walked about for ages, but I knew Ma would be worried and I figured she’d protect me. If she’d been there nae doubt it would of been different but when I got back Ma had been called away to her sister who was sick and it was just him. He sat on the settee and made me stand in fronty him like we were in a court or something.
So Jaswinder, you are ashamed of your religion?
I’m no ashamed of my religion, I just want tae wear my hair in a pony tail.
First Amrik, now you? What have I done to deserve such children?
You’re making a big deal about nothing.
So it’s nothing is it? One of the sacred principles of the Guru.
But I havenae cut my hair – I’m just wearing it differently.
In a way that does not reflect your religion or your traditions. You might as well have cut it. Oh go away, get out of my sight.
I left the room, eyes blurring with tears. I knew he’d seen me start tae greet and that made me mad. I rushed up to the bedroom, stood in fronty the mirror and pulled the pony tail out. My hair hung in a mass over my shoulders and all down my back. It was like a cape or something it was that long and thick. I opened the drawer, took out the scissors, and almost without thinking, cut it off. It was a mess of course, looked like a bad wig. And all this hair in big clumps round the floor. I lay on the bed and howled.
Ma found me there when she came hame. She put her airms round me, held me for ages, wiped my tears – she was greeting as well. She picked up the hair and put it in a bag – she’s still got it in a drawer in her room. Then she blew her nose, said, ‘Come on put your coat on,’ and took me out to the barbers to have it cut properly. I’ve kept it short ever since.
So what did your dad dae?
Nothing. It was never mentioned again.
That must of been awful.
I think that was the hardest part. Him looking at me, obviously disapproving. Ma used to ruffle my hair, tickle my neck and went on at me to wear a hat cause I must be cold but he just pretended nothing had happened while all the time carrying this stone round inside him.
What about Amrik?
Oh, he’d left home by then – I think my da had kind of given up on Amrik anyway – no given up exactly, but we always knew Amrik was different and there was nae use in expecting him to behave like other folk. Whereas I had to be the good son. I think what pissed me off maist of all was that I actually was a good son – done the right things, worked at school, helped in the shop – but he couldnae cut me any slack, couldnae understaund how a boy might of felt on his first day at secondary school. If he had, I would never of cut my hair at all.
He put his airm round me. And what would you have thought about that, having a boyfriend with long hair?
I stroked the back of his heid, the place where the silky hair gave way to the jaggy spikes of the cut edge, the smoothness of the back of his neck.
Dunno, I said. Mibbe I might like it.
Let’s go down – Ma will be wondering where we’ve got to.
Jas’s ma had made tea, set it out on the round table in the kitchen. At first I didnae think she looked like Jas, saw mair resemblance between him and the photie of his da, but when she smiled her face crinkled up in exactly the same way as his, and a big dimple appeared in