What Not To Do When You're In Love

15 | Fights

15 | Fights

When he said I had the power to fight it, to change whatever I loathed about life and make what I want out of it, I almost believed him. I almost let hope survive for some time within me.

I almost smiled.

I could feel something funny deep inside, though, and I learnt it was the fact that I was letting in positivity after what felt like centuries.

But soon enough, thankfully, something happened, and yet again I was compelled to crush with my own hands what everyone else cherishes with all they have in themselves : the hope. The feeling that something good would come to be reality one day; that circumstances will change. That whatever is within me will revive and thrive once again, after years of laying there limp, lost somewhere inside the universe of me with the potential to pacify the world, but, finding itself unable, bringing storms in frustration.

In definite surety that something was off in the last paragraph I'd written, I sat there scratching my head as I wondered if it was the entire metaphor that was imperfectly described, or just some word wrong somewhere. Just an average writer-morning scenario.

It was about half an hour after dawn. Beside me, Lubaina slept in peace.

I had just decided that it was the wording that could use fixing when I remembered that I hadn't told Jebrail that he needed to drop me off at Hasan's at the earliest in the morning.

But unsure of how he'd address me, after what I did to him last night, I decided to call Hasan to know if there was any way he could arrange for me to go home.

"You're up?"

"Of course I am. Sitting here finishing off the last of my packing. The only thing I'm missing, I think, is my toothbrush, which I'll pack now after we've talked."

I was about to say something when he started again.

"Oh and something slightly more important! My wife is missing somewhere, gotta tell mamma to find her for me. Don't wanna leave behind any essentials, now!"

I rolled my eyes, but my smile was probably wider than my forehead right now. He was being silly, and for some sillier reason I was loving it.

"How many times will you tell Aunty to find you things?" I said. "You must find them yourself now, big boy. Or better yet, keep them properly so they don't get misplaced at all. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan."

"Hmm. Let's see how effectively I can keep my things safe and close by once I return from the trip. But right now, I think the only option is to leave some of them behind."

"Yeah but I guess it would be cool if you called to see if your things are doing okay, no?"

"Taubah! As a matter of fact, I had wanted to call you approximately thirteen seconds before you decided to call. I had thought against it because I wasn't sure if you were up."

"Of course I was," I laughed. "You're aware I do wake for Fajr almost all the time."

I suddenly remembered the whole present ordeal and somewhere wanted to ask him about it, but I forced myself to refrain from it. Instead, I focused on the matter at hand.

"There's a little bit of a problem, actually. It's why I called you."

"Always here to solve all your problems, ma'am. What's wrong?"

"Nothing much. In a manic fit last night I put make up on Jebrail, and I'm afraid he must be, like, ballistic right now and I'm therefore scared to ask him to drop me home." I remembered something. "And there's also Lubaina who has to get home. I don't know what to do."