The Perfect Girl

37

"Funny how quick it changes,                                                                                                                                           How wide it ranges,"

"I'm so tired," Hiba sighed as she walked in.

"How long was your shift today?" I asked.

"I took a double shift," she said, "A friend of mine couldn't come."

"Are we still going to your mum's?" I asked, a little worried, "You look totally finished."

"I am," she mumbled, "But I'll be alright.  I just need to--" she yawned, "Relax a bit."

"Why have you been so exhausted lately?"

She shrugged, "Sleeping late, getting up early, I guess."

"You don't sleep that late, do you?"

She smiled, "I sleep after you, didn't you know that?"

"I mean, kind of."

"I sleep at around 2 in the morning on a normal basis, and then I just stay up after Fajr."

"Why don't you sleep in?  That's like 4 hours a night, love!"

"I have to get up for classes and work," she said, giving me a strange look, "And it's fine."

"Not really.  It's actually not f--"

"Shush," she muttered, "I have a migraine, can we please talk about this later?"

I scanned her face, watched as she winced, placed a hand against her head.

"Okay," I said, my voice significantly softer now.

She nodded, dropped her bag on the counter, and sat down beside me.  Her hijab was still on, and I reached up to pull first the open pin, then the safety pin at her neck, out.  I unwrapped it from around her head and hung it on the back of the couch.

I ran my hand through her hair.

She had really nice hair.  It was naturally a smooth, soft brown that looked more like a black, and she'd bleached the bottoms.  She used semi-permanent dyes on the bleach part on a regular basis.  Right now it was dyed blood red, and the contrast of the vividness, as opposed to the darkness of her roots, gave her face an involuntary but pleasant sort of boldness.  Hiba looked outgoing without having to actually be outgoing.

She didn't say anything, but she curled up and leaned against me, closed her eyes.

"Is it really bad, the migraine?" I asked gently.

"Kind of." she mumbled.

"Do you want medicine?"

"No," she shook her head, "It won't do much.  I'll be fine in a bit."

"How long is a bit?" I asked, "I'm concerned, love."

"Maybe half an hour?" she buried her head deeper into my chest, "I want to sleep."

"So sleep, sweetheart."

She opened her eyes, furrowed her eyebrows at the endearment, and then said, "I can't."

"Why?"

"I have a hard time taking naps usually."

"You were napping when I came home the other day."

"Because I got less than an hour of sleep the night before," she said, yawning.

I pulled her closer to me, rested my chin on the top of her head, kissed the forehead.

"At least try," I murmured.

***

It turns out, Hiba did sleep.  She slept for about 2 hours, and with her, me.  When we got up we rushed to change and then we were out the door to go to her mum's house.

Hiba seemed pretty calm, which I was glad for.  I was nervous that maybe she'd see the house and decide that she didn't want to do this, that the memories were too much.

But we went in and sat down and we were fine.  

At least, we were for a while.  But then Amar said something dumb that I honestly didn't catch all of, and Hiba went off on him.  She seemed unreasonably frustrated by his stupidity, and I was surprised by the amount of anger in her words, in her voice.  

Everyone seemed a little taken aback, but then they all treated her like a small child who'd just thrown a tantrum, and went on with their conversation.  I, however, kept looking at Hiba.

I watched as her eyes filled, tears threatening to spill, and I wondered if I was imagining it.  

I'd seen Hiba cry before, but she had an aura of someone who didn't cry much.  She was tough, and mostly she laughed off insults and teasing.  To see her react so strongly was shocking.  But even more shocking was that no one seemed to notice.  Neither her mother nor either of her brothers said anything, even looked at her.

I pressed my lips together, clenched my jaw.

"Hiba?  Can I talk to you really quick?"  I asked.

She met my eyes, and I realized she was definitely close to crying.  She looked relieved.

"Yes," her voice was nasal, about to break.

 She followed me out of the room, but then she led me into a corner.

She raised an eyebrow at me, waiting.

"Why are you crying?"

She shook her head, "I'm not crying."

I gave her a look, "You're close.  Why?  Did Amar upset you that much?"

"No," she swallowed, a single tear trailing down her cheek, "I was just thinking.

"Thinking what?"

"That something," she paused, "Someone was missing from that conversation.  And he wasn't there to defend me."