Page 32 - James Caan - The Real Deal

The Real Deal

I went to talk to one of my teachers and asked if it was possible
to quit. He told me that, legally, you could leave school at the end
of the spring term as long as you were old enough. Hearing that
was like having a huge weight lifted: suddenly I felt that escape
really was possible.
‘You’re not serious though, are you, Nazim?’
No one from F stream had ever left school early.
‘Actually, I am completely serious.’
‘But your studies are going well. You’ll do OK this summer. It’s
only natural to be scared of sitting exams. We can get you extra
help if that’s what you need.’
I wasn’t listening.
‘So you can’t stop me from leaving then?’ That was all I could
focus on.
‘No, no one can stop you, but you should think seriously . . .’
I had already given it very serious thought, and my mind was
made up. In a couple of weeks’ time, as soon as term was over, I
would be leaving school. And leaving home.
I told Azam what I planned to do, but I don’t think he believed
me. No one did. It was unthinkable that I would leave home at
sixteen. In my parents’ culture the boys never leave home, even
when they marry, as it’s traditional for their wives to move in. The
girls are taught to cook and clean and take care of a house, but
the boys are indulged because they will never need those skills. So
it wasn’t just that I was thinking of leaving home at sixteen that
was so radical: it was the fact that I was leaving home at all.
When I talked to my friends about it, they treated it as if it was
some kind of adventure. ‘You could get your own place and we
could stay up all night. It’ll be great.’ Although no one else took
the idea seriously, I did. I knew I was suffocating under the weight
of my father’s expectations, and since the night I’d slept in the car
things had been so tense at home that the idea of working with
him had become oppressive.

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