The Flying Dreams

CHAPTER SEVEN

I learned quite quickly that Shifa was, definitely, not at ease with my presence. Fair enough, I thought, she must be used to being alone in her flat and now she had another stranger, I, demanding she shares her space with me. Of course, I didn't feel any better knowing that I could be such a nuisance to someone else but I tried with all my might to force that appalling thought away. I couldn't completely understand her situation, so, with a promise in my heart and a strong rock to my will, I started preparing the lunch for the both of us right after we returned to her home with freshly bought groceries. My mother's words echoed in my ears; food can make any stranger a family. But there was a huge obstacle in my way to make her a family. Shifa, herself. For a tiny fraction of time, I wondered if Wahab could become easily restless as her cousin but shook the idea in distaste.

She moved a lot. One moment, I might be seeing her laying on the floor, the remote controller of her tv in one hand and a packet of chips in another and then as soon as I turned around to the stove, she would be back in her own room and the door locked. I didn't try to talk to her, she didn't either. I ignored the headache that was beginning to take over my head watching her pace around and then her phone rang.

Shifa was sitting on the chair and staring at her phone when the device woke her from her trance and I might have been too in my own world, but she seemed afraid to pick up the call, so, she didn't. She let the phone ring and a foreign tone kept on getting louder. She should have at least silenced it and it could have been better if only I could actually understand the song. I pretended I didn't hear her phone ring five times and at last, Shifa stood up from the floor. She dusted her blue pyjama shorts and turned to walk outside, she barely reached the door when her body paused and as an afterthought spun to face me and smiled. Her smile forced, and it was painfully obvious smiling was the last thing in her mind for me. I couldn't help but smile back at her visible stress, she seemed surprised for a second and then her phone rang again and with a loud sigh, she opened the door and walked out. I released the anxiety of having to witness her uneasiness by rolling my shoulders. Checking the rice in the pan, and putting the heat on low, I went to grab the remote controller of the television and as usual, nothing caught my attention. The T.V had nothing interesting playing as soon as the remote was in my hands. Almost like the T.V loathed me and wanted me to suffer in boredom. Making perfectly sure that T.V was of no use, I dropped my head back on the sofa and closed my eyes. The heavy scent of vegetable curry wafted around me and the suddenness of all this surrounded me with an extra layer.

It was strange that I didn't miss my family and home as much now. And it was only the second day. I thought I would be unable to get on by without remembering them but this silence was new, and yet, welcome. I clutched my eyes tighter and nothing happened. No face of my mother or father drifted around my vision. I didn't know how to take this. Should I be happy that I wouldn't be haunted by the comfort of my own home or sad that I didn't mind being away from my family? I didn't get to do either as my phone rang and the loud ringtone only awoke a slight irritation. With a sigh, I went inside the room and the screen showed Wahab's face. The previous irritation which had tempted me to even ignore the phone now gone in an instant. I let the phone ring for a second more before picking it up and pressing the cold surface to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Ah! Finally. As-salaam-alaikum, sahiba."

I smiled into the phone and said nothing. Wahab's voice, the same with the playful tint sighed, "Aren't you being too cruel? Not letting me, your crazed admirer, hear your voice? May I have the permission to ask why?"

"No. You may not."

"So, you wouldn't even tell me? Is this a way to treat the person who breathes and whose heart beats only for you?"

I couldn't hold it anymore and laughed, my hand cupping over my mouth on instincts. And Wahab chuckled, a heavy breath and lowly, he said nothing further.

"What are you doing?"

"Missing you. I hope you are missing me twice as much."

I didn't tell him. Of course, I didn't tell him. I hadn't missed him at all after I cried myself to sleep the day before. Shifa had been nice and I went to buy groceries. My mind was too occupied with the burdensome question of what to make in lunch.

Shifa stayed outside the flat and came back after I had talked to Wahab on phone and my mother, who only called me to ask if I had cooked for Shifa. She is Wahab's cousin, you have to make a good impression, Adia Jan. Cousins talk.

"The lunch's ready. Are you hungry?"

Shifa shook her head but refused to open her mouth. I noticed the hard grasp she had on her phone and wondered why she hated her phone so much.

"Alright. Well, then call me when you are."

"Aren't you going to eat? It's past 2."

"Eating alone is unhealthy for the mind."

She laughed. I didn't know why nor did I ask. But seeing her laugh brought a small smile on my own face and smiling was never bad, so, I let her laugh like a half maniac without making a noise and at last, she nodded, slow and deliberate as if considering what to say next. I awaited her answer. My mother's words in mind. Cousins talk. I couldn't believe that Wahab would talk to Shifa. A girl so on the opposite side of what Wahab considered the good girl.

"What's in lunch?"

"Rice and vegetable curry. Kheer in the dessert."

Her face fell a little at my answer, though she tried to cover the awful frow of the brows by raising them unnaturally high.

"I love vegetable curry!"

I did not see anything wrong in playing along though I did feel bad as I realized I should have asked her choice first. The whole lunch thing was for her, and she didn't even like what I cooked, "Yes, I could tell."

She refused to let me serve her with a fake smile and a slight toss of her head and took the ladle from my hands and did the most predictable thing one could ever do. Took half a bowl of curry and a few spoonsful rice but I comforted myself as I watched her practically devour the kheer. I intentionally made an excuse to not eat the kheer and she seemed almost happy to have my portion of the sweet. I made a few mental notes. Never make vegetable curry. Ask before cooking. Make kheer as much as possible.

"Now that the lunch is done, would you like to have a tour around the place?"