Abbas sat across the sofa next to Jabil. Marwa sat next to me.
"so he's already married?" Abbas asked. we took some time explaining everything to him. I can see the regret in his eyes for the days he missed. He keeps a calm smile on his face, at least it looks like he's trying to smile. Jabil looks intimidated. He doesn't know Abbas neither does Marwa. to them, he probably looks like an angry lion trying to smile. It's actually really funny, seeing them get more scared the more he tries to smile. we try to fill him up on everything he missed leaving out the part with the sihr and my aunt. He doesn't need to know something like that, no one does.
His eyelids kept closing, he was tired but doesn't want to miss anything anymore. I walk to the kitchen to get him a drink and some food. the least he can do is eat. Marwa follows after me. "I think the father and son need a moment alone"
she's right. I hug her tightly and she stands still a little shocked but then hugs back. I feel so overwhelmed with joy. My son and husband are both here in this house. I peek through the kitchen door to watch, I can't help myself I'm so pleased they're getting to know each other. Marwa peaks too. Abbas turns his head to stare at Jabil while Jabil keeps his face facing straight. After some pause, Abbas say's "I'm really proud of you." Jabil looks at him and Abbas continues "you did really well I couldn't be here but your mother she is the strongest person I know. I do not doubt that she raised you well"
Oh, Abbas if only you knew how badly I failed. I tried I really did. I'm proud of Jabil for trying but it upsets me how highly Abbas thinks of me. I'm not strong at all. I don't know what he sees when he looks at me. I'm a crumbled woman with a lot of back pain. Unfortunately A lot.
Jabil doesn't respond. He looks like he's trying to find something to say. His face is a little red like he's embarrassed. They don't hug although I really wished they would but maybe dads and sons are different.
***
"Abbas go to sleep, you're exhausting yourself"
"I don't know what that word is," he says resting his head on one of his arms and staring at me. He plays with my hair like he always did. My hair is more brittle now. More damaged. I never thought looks mattered so much until now.
He pulls one lock of my hair and smells it and pretends to faint. He's so dramatic I laugh, hiding my face with a pillow. He won't stop staring at me and now I feel super self-conscious. He pulls the pillow away.
"Don't do that to me"
"What?" I asked
"Don't be so cruel, I haven't seen your face all this time and you won't even let me look at it. You can hide your face from the whole world but don't hide it from me"
I get the sudden urge to slap him with a pillow. So I do. He's unbothered. A smirk on his face staring at me. He's acting like nothing ever happened like he never left. I feel like bursting out into tears. The nights have been so lonely and long. He's been through so much, his scars tell a story for themselves.
I slide my finger against the wound from his Bicep going down to his elbow. The stitching over it looks so badly done and rushed. I place a kiss over it. I felt Abbas shiver below my lips.
***
He holds on tight to my hand. It reminded me of when we first got married and how he always interlaced his fingers with mine. I try to pull my hand away gently and when I do finally pull my whole hand away he grabs it again. I look at him and find his eyes closed. I wave my free hand in front of his face and he doesn't seem to notice. how cute, he's holding onto my hand even when he's asleep. he turns around facing towards me, and mumbles something. He's in deep slumber so I question him.
"hmm? what was that?" I asked stroking his hair. "don't lea..emem"
"What?" I said in a whisper leaning closer and attempting to pull my hand away from his. "Hadiya," he says whisperingly and drowsily. I lean closer over the bed's edge and place my knees on the floor, taking a closer look at him. he can keep his grip on my hand but I can also look at him. it's only a fair deal. Plus he got a pretty good look at me, and I think it's only fair that I get to look at him as well. I was scared to fall asleep because I don't know if I sleep with my mouth open or not. I think I fell asleep anyways and he stayed awake that would explain his heavy sleep right now.
his movements even when sleeping seem so calculated and rigid, it's probably from sleeping on the sand this whole time. I caress over his scars, and I feel the tears run down my face, ya Allah I'm so happy. I try to since my cry but my breathing was getting louder and it was such an ugly cry. I'm just so happy, he's here and alive. I didn't care what the woman thought of me but I hate that a part of me doubted whether he would ever come again. I hate that a part of me had made plans on how to keep on living if bad news reach me about him. The love of my eyes, the Qamar of my night, the sun of my empty sky. This man here gripping my palm has a grip on how I breathe my air. he doesn't know but my air is so constrained when he's not around. I wipe my tears away and lean closer hugging him. I feel his hand's grip leave my wrist and wrap around me. He kisses my head.
"good morning honey eyes" he mumbles lazily but I can feel the smile on his lips against my forehead. "good morning qamari" I feel his smile widen against my head when I said that. he hugs me tighter "ughh I missed you so much" he groans into my hair.
"I missed you so much more," I said. He dramatically leans up in a sitting position and looks at me like he is about to taunt me.
I look at him with a questioning look and gesture a what sign with my hand
"don't say that, you don't know how much I missed you for you to say you missed me more."
"but I did," I said entertained by how worked up he was getting.
"no, if you knew how much I missed you, you wouldn't say something like that. I missed you more than the amount of water in the sea. More than the amount of sand in the Sahara. I missed you so much Hadiya. I missed you so much that every night I dreamt of you, I dreamt I was holding your hand only to wake up and watch the sand slip through my fingers."
YOU ARE READING
A silent cry
Historical Fiction"and after all this time of waiting the devil would reach out to me and whisper, he's dead and you are here, how much longer will you wait, how much longer would you deny the truth, at some point, I was afraid that he would unlock my ribcage and sen...
