Once In A Blue Moon

13 Trouble

I want, I don't want.
How can I live with such a heart?

— Margaret Atwood

☾

"I've bought myself a car. Say thanks to lala for the money he sent me."

She sits behind the wheel of her new car at the parking lot opposite to the academy Mikael delivers his lectures at. It's more like a big hall beside a small mosque from the outside. She watches people going inside but doesn't budge from her seat, being here early and preferring to be on call with Ferozeh instead of mingling with strangers.

Mikael had texted her the address and details a few days back when she had decided to attend his classes. She had saved his number but none of them has bothered speaking more with each other than the information which was required. She hasn't seen him in a week after having coffee with him at the cafe.

"I will," Ferozeh replies. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself there."

"Not quite though. I wish Zoraiz would agree to moving to a better place but that guy is stubborn." She sighs. "Although I'm not insisting anymore. He doesn't like the idea and there's nothing I can do about it. I think I'll have to make peace with that apartment. Did I tell you it's smaller than our servant quarters?"

"You did."

"Never mind then."

"How is Zoraiz, by the way?" Ferozeh asks. "It's been long he has visited us."

"He's good. Different, actually. I don't think he's planning on coming home anytime soon."

"What do you mean?"

Banafsha turns the back-view mirror to herself, checking her make up. "I mean he's no more like the rest of everyone back home, so I suppose the thought of that company is not entertaining to him anymore. He's kind of more religious now, you know?"

"Really? How so?" Ferozeh inquires with interest.

"Like he gave me a death scare this morning when I came home from my night shift." She fishes for her lipstick in her bag. "The sun hadn't risen fully and it was dark. He was praying in the middle of the living room and I thought I had stumbled upon a ghost. You would be at my funeral now if I had died from cardiac arrest."

Her friend laughs at her statement. "Well, that's new. But it's good I guess."

"Yeah, so far so good, except the ill way he speaks of our family." She reapplies her lipstick, smacking her lips together. "I've reprimanded him for that but nothing gets through his skull."

"What does he say?"

"That we're corrupted, our money is black, we're not loyal to the public and looting their rights." She sits straighter, feeling sick in her stomach for some reason. "Moreover, that our men commit adultery and have dirty addictions; our women loves luxury and wouldn't care less. That we're bad people using riches to cover us up."

There's silence on the other end and the sickness she has been feeling intensifies.

"Roz?"

"I'm listening."

"Then say something."

"What do I say to this, Afsha? Don't think too much about it. It'll only hurt you."

Her words hit her like a slab of concrete. She wanted Ferozeh to console her, tell her the truth isn't so blatant, not so cruel. Growing up, she has always been pampered and hidden away from the darkness of their world, but she wasn't completely ignorant to everything. Although neither as exposed. She wants to call it a lie-- or at least half of it to be a lie. But her heart doesn't submit to her reasoning.