The Year of You (on hold)

chapter 7

We spent 2 more nights in the hospital, with frequently being visited by Yunus, Amu Hussam, Badr, Khala Saleema, my parents, and suited men with briefcases. My mother brought me clothes and us home cooked food, though Nabeel wasn't allowed to have any. Khala Saleema also brought us food, and mostly Yunus ate it. If the mood had been better I definitely would have enjoyed my mothers' cooking, but each time I tried to eat, I tasted metal. Each time I tried to sleep, I was jolted awake by the nightmare of losing Nabeel.

Yunus visited us more often then anyone. Each of his visits were followed by suited men, who I assumed were Nabeel's coworkers. Even in such a state he was so professional and focused. His health was presumably getting better, and the Mupirocin was strong enough to begin healing his cuts. When he was discharged, Yunus took us home, a very awkward car ride. I stared the window, while Yunus spoke into his bluetooth and Nabeel dozed off. It was a gray day, the clouds threatened a hard rain. We turned onto our street when I saw three of the exact same car zipping past us. Yunus didn't seem to notice.

We got into the house and Yunus helped Nabeel to his bed, while I started the stove to make chai.

"No, don't bother, I'm not going to drink any." Yunus's voice startles me, I thought he was upstairs with Nabeel.

"Aren't you staying for a while?" I ask him turning to face him and leaning on the counter behind me.

"No, I have some things to get done. Inshallah I'll swing by later on in the evening to check on you and Nabeel. If you need anything give me a call. M'asalama." Yunus leaves and I turn the stove off, opting for a shower before a cup of tea. When I go into our room, Nabeel is sleeping. I carefully and quietly take my clothes and go into the bathroom for a long, refreshing shower.

When I'm finished, I get dressed and pray Asr and Nabeel begins to stir. I rush to his side of the bed and check his temperature. It seems fine. I run my hand carefully over his soft, unruly hair. A few strands stuck to his face with sweat. I examine his face for a while, stroking my hand over his forehead delicately. Nabeel's perfect, long, straight nose sits right in the middle of his face. His tanned skinned had paled in the past few days. His cheekbones also seem a lot more prominent than before. His facial hair has thickened. Nabeel doesn't usually sport a clean shave but his beard is always neatly shaped and trimmed. His soft lips, are slightly parted, and his breathing is steady and strong. Staring at his lips reminds me of our first kiss, the one we shared in one of the many hallways of this house. Before I can get too carried away in my thoughts, I look at his forehead and  touch the small bandage over his eyebrow, alhamdulilah that cut wasn't too deep. The hospital gave us a set of bandages and cleansing wipes for his cuts but we'd need a lot more. I make a mental note to make a quick run to the pharmacy.

"Nabeel," I softly say, "Nabeel we need to get your bandages changed. Come on, wake up and then you can sleep again."

Almost instantly, his eyes flutter open. I feel an instant pang of guilt for disturbing his peaceful sleep. He stares at me in such a way that my breath catches. Feeling shy of the way I was looking at him before, I clear my throat "Uh, your bandages need to be changed." He shuts his eyes and opens them again. He nods his head and I help him to sit up in his bed. I begin to stand up and tell him, "Okay take off your shirt and I'll be back with the bandages." He grabs my hand and I turn around giving him a questioning look. "My arm is broken Muneerah. How do you expect me to take my shirt off alone?" his voice is tired and deep, but his words have a playful ring to them. I can see that he's smiling. Oh my god, I think. How am I supposed to do this? "I'll be right back," I tell him. I hurry out the room, praying that he did not see the blush creeping into my cheeks and neck. I get the bandages and return to find him sitting the same way he was before, staring at the ceiling. My presence startled him, and I tried to ignore the fact that I had to take his shirt off. I take the bandages out of their packaging and set everything out on the bedside table. I double check to make sure I have everything necessary for the dressing. I take a deep breath to try and calm my heart beat. I can do this, I tell my self.

"Are you done?" Nabeel asks, chuckling. I nod my head and proceed in taking his top off. It's a lot harder than I expected, but finally, his shirt is off, revealing his bare body. His muscular chest was covered with bandages, one arm in a sling while the other flexed and his large hand sprawled over his torso. His toned torso was evidence that he spent a great deal of time at the gym. I felt a hot blush creeping up my cheeks, my breathing hitched, and I couldn't keep myself from staring.  "Ahem." Nabeel's faux attempt to clear his throat startled me. He gives me a smug look. "Sorry" I barely whispered. I start by pulling off the bandages on his neck, trying to be gentle and ultimately failng.

"OW!! YOU'RE YANKING ON IT WOMAN!" Nabeel shrieks. I drop the half removed bandages and quickly say, "Sorry sorry I'm sorry."

"Jeez. Any harder and you'd probably have taken some skin off with it." He says wincing. I shut my eyes and try to shake off the anxiety. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'll try again." I continue peeling off his bandages, carefully this time, exposing actual skin. I calmed my nerves and looked to Nabeel for any reaction. He had his eyes shut and his jaw clenched and his head against the headboard. I cleaned his wounds, and reapplied a bandage to his neck. Redressing his chest was more difficult, as there was more skin and more wounds to cover. His broken arm was not helping at all, which made it even more frustrating. I may have pulled a few short hairs off of his chest. I have never been this close to someone's wounds before. Nor have I been this close to a man. I tried to put all my thoughts aside and solely focus on cleaning the blood around his wounds. I was going to be a doctor, I thought. I had completed one year of premed school. Then I got married. Nabeel said he'd let me complete my studies, if I'd wished. But literally being around blood and cuts made me slightly nauseas. I had to overcome my fear. My hands shook, and sweat, and clammed up, but I successfully cleaned and redressed Nabeel's gashes. The whole process took almost a whole hour. When I wrapped up, I gave him some painkillers and laid him back down. He seemed tired, so I let him sleep. I washed my hands in the bathroom went down into the kitchen. I busy my self cooking, losing myself in the fragrant aroma of the chicken jalfrezi I was making. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I smelt it. I was so unaware of the doorbell ringing, until it rung a second, third time.

I tied my hijab, and walked towards the front door. I open it to find two suited men with breifcases, faintly recognizing one of them from his many hospital visits. Every time he visited, Nabeel gave me a look that said I didn't belong in the room. The other was completely unfamiliar to me, and I instantly sensed something wasn't right.

"Hello," I greeted them nervously.

"We're here to see Mr. Naqvi," the one I didn't recognize said, firmly.

"He's sleeping," I say, just as firmly, gaining confidence.

"Let him know we stopped by, Mrs. Naqvi. Go and wake him up. We'll wait in your living room." Pushing the door open, he brushed past me, and the one I did recognize followed suit. Despite my effort to keep them out, they make their way across the foyer and into the living room. I followed them quickly to make sure they were going straight to the living room before I went to rouse Nabeel. I had a bad feeling about this, but I let them sit and began to walk away, when he had said, "Make it quick Mrs. Naqvi, we're on a tight schedule."

I exited the room, made sure I was out of earshot and bolted for the stairs.