Lost

Chapter 88: So? . . . We meet again

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Sarah leaned against the counter, sipping on her lemonade. She watched her friend practice the routine. Salma landed three punches to the bag in quick succession before ending the combo with a low jab.

"Again!" Sarah shouted.

Three knocks and a jab.

"Again!"

Three knocks and a jab.

"Faster!"

Three knocks and a jab.

"With power!"

Three knocks and a -

Salma slouched against the huge punch-bag. It swung a little threatening to slip her off.

"Argh! Can we take a break? You know I have a long flight tomorrow," Salma groaned into the leather, "You should go easy on me tonight. I can't move!"

Sarah sipped on her juice again.

"No, and the flight it only three hours. So long as you breathe, you're moving. Now stop saying stupid things and get a move on!" Sarah replied. Salma banged her head against the bag not making a move to restart, which made Sarah snap, "Get back to work!"

It was another half an hour later that Sarah finally decided to let her off. With sweat pouring from every inch of her body, Salma barely managed to take a step away from the bag and slumped on the gym floor.

"You're a slave driver!" she said, her breathing ragged. "I regret letting you train me."

"Five minutes and then I'm closing down," Sarah replied, dismissing her complains, "You can either sleep, or you can peel your butt of that mat and get dressed. Either way, you're out of this building in five."

Disregarding her warning, Salma just turned on her side, trying to get her breath back to normal. Her bare arms were glistening with sweat. Each one of her muscles ached.

"Four minutes!"

Salma's wet hair was sticking to her forehead and behind the ears, proving rather irksome, but she was too tired to lift her hand to wipe them back.

"Three minutes!"

Oh, she does this every damn night! Salma groaned.

The very first night after Sarah had given her her first formal lesson, she had actually thrown Salma out in her tank top and tights when she delayed getting dressed. Even after a huge fight on the campus the next day, Sarah continued throwing her out and locking down the place including her bag and abaya and scarf throughout the following week. Salma had to drive back early in the morning to ask the gym manager for her things. The second week, Salma started carrying an extra pair of outer clothing in the car. After two months she invested in a hood -

"Two minutes!"

That was her cue. Salma sighed. She pushed herself off the ground and sat up. Knowing her legs would give way, Salma crawled towards the changing rooms and pulled her hood over her head. Two months ago, she bought the piece of clothing the moment she saw it in the shop. It was calf-length, A- line jacket with a hood, perfect for being used as a make shift hijab-abaya combination in emergency situations like –

"One minute!"

"This." Salma huffed moodily, poking her arms out of the sleeves.

Salma was barely able to stuff the rest of her things in her bag, when she heard Sarah shout 'fifteen seconds'. Wondering if she'd skipped the rest of the forty five seconds, Salma shouldered her bag.