The Flying Dreams

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Shifa after making a small venture to the butcher's shop volunteered to cut the vegetables and make rice as I went straight for the chicken dressing. The window in the living room was closed but I could see the bright sun rays spreading through the thin white blinds onto the floor, small dust particles dancing under the gleams. The coldness of winter was starting to fade as February approached and summer was eagerly waited for. I didn't dislike winter, sometimes the freezing atmosphere was highly enjoyable with a warm cup of tea and nice company but the feeling of the hot, scorching sun on my body felt more like home. I loved the burning sensation and would go around walking on my terrace barefoot until my feet felt numb with the heat.

"What's your favourite season?"

Shifa hummed quizzingly, too focused on not accidentally cutting her fingers as she chopped a tomato. I found her lack of culinary skills hilarious, and the small scowl settled on her face while she concentrated adorable. I kept the chicken pieces under running water and thought I wasn't going to get a reply until she finished her part of the work, but Shifa's voice echoed in the silent room after a few seconds.

"Winter and I know yours."

Of course, it was winter. She kept the windows open for the frosty air to make its way through when she studied. I didn't know about her room window and never even asked, though I have wanted to at one time when she appeared with a red nose and carried a cotton handkerchief with her to wipe it in every two minutes. Instead, I just kept making her hot tea with a lot of ginger and leaves of basil and warm food.

"What's it?"

"Summer."

I had to turn around at that. How could she know? I racked my brain to find out if I had ever told her. Perhaps mentioned it in the go and she caught it? Shifa, it didn't take much time for me to notice, was a great observer. I would say things and she was fast to catch them and use them. I couldn't forget the day she actually went and bought me milk chocolate because I said they helped me calm down during my periods. Since you make your home remedy for my cramps.

She was already facing me and seeing the look on my face, chuckled and dropped the knife on the wooden board before shrugging one shoulder, "You look like someone whose favourite season would be summer."

I stared at her, my mouth wide open and my eyes even wider. Look like it? How? I willed my mind to return to its place and nodded at her in mock scrutiny. Eyeing her from toe to head, I tucked my lowers lip between my teeth and hoped my face resembled hers when she did the same with me whenever I made a negative comment on any movie she put on.

"Huh, and you look like someone who would love kheer."

Shifa laughed and it brought a smile to my face and without any further word, she went back to her tomato, her face still stretched into a remnant of glee. She had never tried to help in the kitchen before, mainly due to her skills, or in her case, lack of it but having her share the same space and genuinely trying to learn warmed me in so many ways that I had to force my urge of smiling from the sheer happiness of the moment. When my ummi had tried to 'land me a hand' in the kitchen, I hated it. I always thought that she just undermined my skill, but Shifa seemed to regard my average cooking to the highest esteem and kept praising me for it to the point I felt embarrassed. And I loved it.

We worked mostly in silence and Shifa completed her task way before me and went over to turn the sofa, so it faced the kitchen and sank with a low hum of satisfaction. As soon as she threw her head on the headrest, her phone rang. The foreign words rang so loudly in the room, and I heard her groan. Trying not to put too much attention on her, I wondered who it could be. Her brother, Wahab and that Riya or her mother. I desperately hoped it was not her mother. She tended to put Shifa's mood in a stinking dustbin and she appeared to be in a good spirit, I didn't want her mother to ruin it for her.

"Hello?"

Not her brother or Wahab. She usually greeted them with a salam, not a hello. I watched discreetly. She said hold on, got up from the sofa and walked toward the door, without spearing me a single glance, opened the door and went out. I wished that I had super hearing to listen to her talk and then realized how weird that sounded and took a deep breath. Why should I even care who she was talking to? I had Wahab. I was Wahab's and she could be Riya's. Shaking my head at my own foolishness, I closed the lid of the pot and went to grab the extra packet of salt that Shifa had bought since the box was already empty and of course, she didn't think of filling the spice boxes. But as I looked around the kitchen drawers, I did not find anything. No packets of salt or pepper. Then my eyes travelled to the higher drawers and remembered how most of the junk food she purchased was stored there. Because I couldn't reach them without a chair to assist me and she knew I hated bringing chairs inside the kitchen. I hated tall people.

Well, I thought, nothing to do now. Stretching out my hands in vain to reach the drawer, I tip-toed and did my best to open the door. My fingers had just touched the lower surface when my stomach was pressed against the wall and another set of fingers grazed mine for a second before the door opened. I didn't move, I couldn't even if I wanted to since Shifa's front was pressing against my back and her fingers were still touching mine. Much time must have passed, or it could only be a second but neither of us made a single effort to make space between us and I wasn't sure if the loud heartbeat ringing in my ears belonged to me or her. I stopped breathing altogether when her fingers started to caress the back of my hand with the gentlest touch I had known on my body and a shiver ran down my spine. She must have sensed it because the next moment, her hand got bolder and reached for my wrist. All the time she remained firmly pressed against me and her slow puffs of breath tickled my ear whenever she breathed. Softly gripping my hand, she leaned closer to me and said in a voice that melted me right there on the floor with a need I thought I simply won't yearn for so desperately.

"You're too small to reach the drawers by yourself."

And then her presence was gone as silently as it had come and Shifa grabbed the whole bag and placed it on the counter, beside the stove before closing the drawer with her palm. My ears burned so hotly that I knew she definitely had to have noticed. I heard her footsteps and hoped I wouldn't appear too flustered and out of control. My heartbeat was running faster than it had ever before but somehow, I managed to calm myself down and inhaled deeply. Turning around to walk toward the front counter and not giving a glance to Shifa, I poured the salt into the box and after a minute heard a Bollywood song. Shifa had turned on the TV and the sofa was back to face it.