Freeing or Fleeing

Chapter Nine - A, sort of, Broken Promise

Chapter Nine

Needless to say that the visit to my parents' wasn't exactly pleasant. At first, nothing extraordinary happened, where Amma greeted me at the door, her eyes glistening with excitement and sat with me in the living room for a while, chatting away. Then, she got up to make me some food even though I had refused. As she was occupied, I took in the new appearance of the living room. It was weird to see that none of the furniture that was here when I lived with them remained; we had the old furniture for almost all of my life. Amma had the desire to change everything in the living room for many years but Abba wasn't too fond of the idea, always contemplating the theoretical hole that would be created in his pocket from the money that's needed for it. She had finally convinced him a couple of months ago. I had visited them a few times after they had replaced the old furniture but I still wasn't used to it. There was a time that I was involved in the decisions Amma made in the house. Okay, maybe not exactly involved in them but she'd always tell me what she wanted but since moving out, I wasn't aware of any of the choices they had made to the house; it, sort of, saddened me.

The old, black leather sofas were replaced by a large, grey corner one that seated at least eight people and in place of the heavy, brown coffee table was a glass one, on top of a grey, fluffy rug. They had changed the curtains and all; it no longer felt like the familiar comfort that I had grown up with. I felt like a foreigner in the very place that had housed me for twenty-two years.

While Amma was in the kitchen, I could hear the footsteps of my father making their way down the stairs.

"The queen has finally graced me with her presence," Abba commented sarcastically as he entered the living room.

"Assalamu alaikum, Abba. Are you good?" I asked, already tired of this conversation.

He returned my salam, giving me quick hug and sat on the sofa, pulling me to sit beside him. Abba had aged well; although Amma and Abba had quite a large age gap, he didn't look that much older. Despite the fact that he lost most of his hair some years back, he still had that sort of baby face that all too much hid his wrongdoings. So many are still deceived by its innocent look, which his height aided in. He was only an inch taller than me, making him extremely sort for a man and as the years went by, I've watched as he dressed younger and younger to the point that I've seen him eye some of Yusuf's clothes, only to see them on him days or months later because he'd buy them for himself. He dyed his greying hair often to appear younger. I don't know who he is trying to fool but he possibly can't think he can get any younger by dressing that way, can he?

We went through the usual formalities and he asked about my health, my husband and mother-in-law before he turned his attention to the TV. He changed the channel to the news, watching as the prime minister's face popped up on the screen. That set him off on a political rant, cursing at the job the current prime minister did, finding fault in everything. I nodded at times, just to feign that I was listening when in reality, nothing new came out of his mouth. Shortly after, it was Magrib so Abba headed to the masjid, while Amma and I prayed at home.

After Magrib, I was in the kitchen, helping Amma finish making the dinner by frying some chips while she checked on the grilled chicken when Abba came back. I was slowly relaxing in the house, thinking that it would finally be a drama less day at my parents' as we all sat down to eat together. Then it was Isha and so Abba left again for the masjid. Just before Abba returned, Eijaz texted me asking where I was and when I told him, he messaged that he was on his way to pick me up.

Abba, Amma and I were sitting in the living room, sipping on some tea. I didn't want tea but Amma had insisted and since she made it, I couldn't refuse in fear of upsetting her.