The Rebellion Era

Chapter Six.

                  

I toss a rock at the surface of the lake. It plummets and gives birth to round ripples. It expands away from the site where the rock has fallen, until it eventually vanishes.

Mother is back in our dweller with a cluster of women paying their condolences while Omar and Assem are in the funeral with the other men. I felt the room collapsing around me as I drown in all the tears the women weep so I left before I do something I'll regret.

The rest of the women who aren't with mother, have not removed their piercing gazes from me. Whenever I pass by a ring of tattling woman, they nudge each other's shoulders and whisper. Probably, they veto my choice of leaving father's funeral, or they finally get to speak ill behind my back as I am not the Hakim's daughter anymore. I continue my pace and contemplate the stones covered with filth, hidden in every dweller corner, as I do my best to ignore them.

Assem founds me at the lake. He looks furious, like a cat whose fur has been tousled. He appears to be more incensed than he had after his mother's episode. I had heard him fighting with Mrs. Eman on my way here. Their voices were loud enough for me to hear, but not clear to distinguish the words. I did not need a proof to know Assem and his mother had never argued. Even in times as critical as his father's mourning period.

"What's wrong?" I ask. "I heard you fighting with your mother."

He rakes his hands through his hair, letting his black hair stand out in spikes. His fingers are long and slender. Hands of a pianist, in another life.

He exhales heavily. He always does this when he is reluctant to tell me something. We have memorized every part, every move and every thought of each other like a poem. "Financial issues."

Of course, his money has been robbed. Why have I been too entangled in my own grief I was completely blinded to my Assem's? "Assem, if you need any help we could..."

He throws his hands in the air, palms down. "No!" He bursts. He has never ever screamed at me. "We both know the salaries barely cover our expenses. I won't beset you."

"How could you think helping you would beset me?! This is insulting."

"I am cordially sorry for insulting you." He says, excuses to leave and heads to the funeral.

He doesn't tell me Till I See You Again.

Everything around me then goes unusually quiet, like death hasn't only taken father's life but our voices, our merit. I wonder what kind of impact his demise would have on our people. If we will ever recover... if we will get through this as a whole, or as disarrayed individuals as the tool that kept us attached is gone.

The sky is a weird color this morning. The blueness is obscured by scattered patches of deep gray clouds pregnant with rain. Sunrays escape through the gaps between passing clouds, the sun visible with its glory, before the clouds mute it with its grayness like dying hair.

I had planned to leave today. I am awful at goodbyes. I never knew what to say. If words are droplets of water, then the ocean is in my head, but I only speak a puddle. I'd wait for the person leaving to do the talking, and I would either answer by "same here" or I'll awkwardly nod like a robot whose neck strings has broken. And I can't tell my family I am leaving. I can't bring myself to inform them they are two less now not only one.

"... and in case you haven't heard," a masculine voice says. I lift my head. Two men approach the lake, attired in fading orange Daffodil yellow. Their body language is so tense, they seem to be in a feud on the verge of escalating into something worse. They leave their lane and walk to the lake, hardly attentive to their steps. "Last night clashes occurred and there have been reports saying security officials fired guns to disperse the crowd. This could have killed someone, don't you think? The same time, they raided our Gardens and apprehended a Lavender Gardener and killed their Hakim."