Freeing or Fleeing

Chapter Two - Chewing Away the Self-esteem

Chapter Two

I was woken up with a tap on my shoulder and felt the pain shoot through my body even before I opened my eyes.

"Hey, wake up." I could hear the whispers of my husband.

I rubbed my eyes and opened them, only to squeeze them shut again, sensitive to the light shining in the room. I tried again and that's when I realised I was still on the floor.

Eijaz towered over me with his hands stretched out in front of him. He was already 9" taller than me but like this he looked like a giant. I took his hands as he helped me up. I can never get over how soft they felt. I thought girls were supposed to have the delicate hands. Why are mine rough compared to his? I noticed that he didn't greet me with a smile like he usually did. His drawing in of his dark brown eyebrows displayed the foul mood he was in, aided by his plump lips in a thin line.

As he pulled me up, his hair flopped over his forehead, slightly covering his eyes. He attempted to blow his hair out of the way but it flopped back down. He's been doing overtime at the office for some time now so, his usually short hair has grown to the bottom of his neck and hasn't had the chance to go to the barbers. Contrary to his beliefs, it does not look good on him.

"What were you..." he trailed off when he saw my face properly and his expression softened. "Hafeezah, have you been crying? What's wrong?"

He sat me down on the edge of the bed, then sat beside me. He moved his hair out of his face and traced over the puffed up area under my eyes.

"I was making du'a (supplication). You know how it is." I brushed it off.

I can't actually remember the last time I made supplication with meaning, where my whole body felt the conversation with Allah. I'm ashamed to say, my imaan (faith) hadn't been so great lately. Sure, I pray my five daily prayers, but there are times my mind wonders beyond the prayer, into irrelevant things and I'm pretty sure my Qur'an is covered with dust. The distance I've created from Allah has caused a huge amount of guilt to reside in me but it's been a struggle to reduce that gap.

I rolled my shoulders in circles to ease some of the pain I felt from falling asleep on the floor and noticing this, he began to give me a massage. If anyone ever asked me what the perks of getting married are, I'd answer with 'good massages' every time.

"Are you okay?"

"I am now," I smiled.

I checked the clock and saw that it was approaching 1am.

"Good because I need to talk to you about something." The worry in his face formed into disappointment.

"What is it?"

"Why did I walk into the house to see Mum cleaning up the kitchen?" His voice was stern and somehow it sounded deeper than usual.

"What do you mean? I cleaned ––"

"Don't give me that, Hafeezah," he interrupted me, crossing his arms against his chest, his t-shirt sleeves tightening around his biceps. "I literally just argued with her trying to defend you but I can't keep doing this; I'm tired of it all. I walked into the house and see her washing the dishes. She was on the last one otherwise I would have helped her. You know she's not well and you leave her no choice to clean up after us all the time. I know there were a lot to clean up because my friends came over and I would have helped you but it was prayer time and you know I had to go masjid."

I was wondering when he would take a breath.

"No, you don't understand. I did clean up. There was only one plate left to clean because Khadra came and we were talking. I was going to finish it off but I ended up falling asleep after praying," I explained, desperately.