The Perfect Girl

36

"She's happy then she's sad,                                                                                                                                                     Can't figure herself out and it makes her mad,"

The summer was drawing to a close.

Hiba spent a lot of time alone, I was starting to realize.  

Aside from her job, she didn't seem to go out much, and since she was taking courses online, she spent most of her time bent over a notebook on the kitchen table.  She was stressed, too.  Her exams were coming up and she seemed to be constantly on the edge, always studying.  

And because she was stressed, she was tired.  

And she was mad all the time.

Particularly, I remember one Friday when she was just irritated at everything.  We were eating breakfast and I dropped a butter knife.

"Be careful, why are you being so clumsy?" she snapped, "Oh my God!"

I could feel a sort of responding rage, because she was acting uncharacteristically impolite about everything, but I stayed silent.  I was sure she could tell I was upset, because anger always showed on my face.  I walked out of the room.

Mostly, it was to stop myself from actually losing it, but partly it was also just an instinctive response to holding in anger.  I didn't want to be around the person that had made me angry.

I pulled my paints out from a corner and began swiping it across the canvas.  I could feel my jaw begin to unclench, and I was relieved for it.

I'd been there, just painting, for about 15 minutes when I heard Hiba come in.  I didn't look up, and she didn't say anything.   I could feel her staring at me, and when I finally met her eyes, she flinched.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, "Really sorry."

I sighed, tried to grasp at the fury that was quickly slipping away, but couldn't.

"It's okay," I mumbled.

I put down my paintbrush and opened my arms to her.  She came over, sat on my lap, rested her head in my neck.  I wrapped my arms around her, twirling her hair around my fingers.

"Why have you been so grumpy lately?" I asked quietly.

I felt her shift uncomfortably, and then she said, "There's more than one reason."

"Mhmm?"

"Well, there are exams," she murmured.

"Is that all?" I asked, "Because you weren't like this last year around exams, at least not when I was around."

She buried her face further in my neck, "I may or may not be PMSing."

"Oh!" I laughed a little, "That explains a lot."

Her face was growing hot against my skin.

"It's not a big deal," I said, chuckling, "Don't be embarrassed.  Jana has trained me well, love."

I think she sort of laughed, and then she said, "This is not an ideal headspace to be in when we go to Ami's."

"You'll be fine," I said, dropping a kiss on her hair.

We were silent a moment, and then she said, "Have you told your parents about your art yet?"

"No," I admitted.

"Khalid..." 

"I know," I leaned my head back, "I'm just scared."

"Of what?" she asked and chuckled, "You're a grown man, Khalid.  This is your choice, your job, and you know what you want to do.  You're lucky, too.  Not everyone knows what they love doing.  Don't waste your talent."

"You're right," I sighed, "But I want to make sure there are no slippers around before I tell them."

She laughed, "You know they won't throw one at you."

"Yeah." I muttered.

"I love you," she said quietly, near my ear.

"I love you too."