Talking to the Moon ✔

- Chapter: Twelve -

A month had passed since my brother's death.

A month, since I last touched him. I was scared that he would become a memory and it was the reason why I was holding onto everything related to him. I did not want him to become a memory, I needed him to remain a part of me.

It had also been a month since I had a conversation with the Moon. I had tried to call out for her, used everything in my power to seek her, but she hadn't come and I, for the first time, felt hollow without her and Imad.

My mother had improved, she was willing to talk now and even had started doing chores. But I knew that when she thought everyone went to sleep, my mother would sneak out and weep for her baby.

"How is she?" My neighbor, Aunt Khalida, entered the house when I opened the door, she had a tray full of food that she had brought with her. In reply to her question, I managed to smile. She smiled back, she was one of the few women in our village that I liked. She was my mother's best friend and they shared everything with each other.

She was not there when Imad had died, she had gone to visit her son in the city. He was a daily wage labor there and he had been sick.

"Ayesha!" Aunt Khalida called out and my mother appeared from the kitchen wiping her hands in a piece of clothing, her eyes widened in surprise by the visitor.

"Khalida!" My mother said softly, that was the maximum her voice went now. She barely said anything and when she did, we could hardly hear.

"Yes, it is me, dear woman." Aunt Khalida put the tray aside and embraced my frozen mother. I watched from a distant. Somedays, it was hard to face my mother, knowing that I could never understand what she went through. She tried to be strong, but we knew she was hurting. We all were. I was happy to see Aunt Khalida, mostly because, my mother would finally have someone to confide in.

I left the friends and sat on the stairs, I could hear my mother sobbing softly. I imagined Aunt Khalida crying too. I felt a stray tear emerge from my eye and I quickly wiped it away.

I let them be, my mother could do with someone who was not her family. I thought back to each of my family members and their way of coping up with this. My father had given in to work, hoping that it would prove to be a distraction. He went early and came home late. He was no more jovial, he did not tease, he did not smile. My eyes might have been deceiving me but it did look like he had become old now as if the burden of Imad's death was too much for him to handle.

Asad had grown distant too. He did not talk anymore, silence had become his friend. He did his duties as any responsible son or man would but he had changed. He did, however, attend to me, he hovered around me, giving me extra attention as if he was scared that he would lose me too if he was not around me. But we did not talk the way we did, I did not expect that we ever would.

I, on the other hand, did what I could do best. I stayed quiet, minded my own business, did as I was told and tried my best not to be a hindrance. I barely left the house, I helped my mother cook, I helped my brother clean and when everyone fell asleep, I sneaked to the terrace in the hopes that the Moon would forgive me and talk to me. I needed someone that I could talk to. I needed a friend now more than ever and she had left me.