Beneath Guarded Hearts - 92

Previously…

Asma

I would never shame my 3bdulla or give cause to think that he’s given me a reason not to trust him. I love him. Maybe this was just one last sacrifice I had to make in order to be happy with him. But then again, how could he be so selfish?

_________________

3bdulla

Me: “Great, I’m definitely interested in this one! I’ll give you call and confirm my final decision. Thank you.”

            I made my way out of the spacious apartment and headed towards my car. I was very happy with this apartment because it was better for Asma. Its location may be a little far from my workplace but its much closer to Dubai. That way Asma won’t have to drive an extra hour. It wasn’t much but it was the best I could think of. I knew she was upset and I was startled by her unexpected reaction, but I really wish she had been here with me today. We were supposed to do this together. Why couldn’t she be more supportive of me? The only reason I worked so hard to get the job was so that I could support her and, inshalla in the future, our family. I have to be responsible and she has to be considerate of that. Maybe 3wash can talk some sense into her. Her recommendation of me helped a lot when I applied for the job and she understood why I wanted to guarantee that I would get it. Yes, I’ll text her and see if she can talk to Asma.

To: 3wash (Mobile)

Hi 3wash, Asma’s upset about the new job you helped me with. She doesn’t understand why I need it so can you please talk to her?

From: 3wash (Mobile)

Seriously? You’re an adult now, deal with your own problems! Ana may5e9ny fel salfa :)

            I frowned and deleted the message, wondering how to fix this issue. In a way she was right, but I won’t admit I was wrong for not telling Asma about it because she should have been supportive either way. I started the engine and thought of a way to discuss this with her without angering her yet without apologizing. I won’t apologize just to please her; she needs to know that she was also wrong.

Asma

            Was I overdramatic? I wanted to call Noufyy and confess everything to her. I wanted to get her advice but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Discussing personal matters between 3bady and I with others felt wrong, somewhat like a betrayal of trust. I continued walking in the mamsha, this time picking up my pace as I thought everything through. I was a young adult and I had to deal with this rationally and responsibly. Maybe I let my anger get to me, maybe-

“OMG ASMAA!”

            I stopped mid-thought and looked up, wondering who was at the mamsha at this hour. People usually went after Maghreb prayer, so I intentionally go after Isha prayer 3shan a5ith ra7ty. I mentally groaned as I saw who was coming towards me. She was none other than the famous Nada, my best friend from my old secondary school. A pool of memories swarmed through me as I remembered everything I had gone through with her and smiled. I was glad that we weren’t friends anymore and had gone our separate ways. I still cared about her for reasons even I didn’t know myself, still found myself including her in my prayers every now and then. I guess I just always wanted the best for her and still haven’t seen it happen. Maybe I don’t know what’s best for her but I certainly know that our friendship was a disaster. Sometimes, pairing opposites together doesn’t make them appreciate each other’s differences; it makes their differences a barrier. That was something I didn’t understand back then and I had tried to influence her countless times to be a better person. I realized too late, after I had been lied to and put through hell, that she didn’t want to change and nothing I could do would make a difference. So, after she admitted who she really was to me, I accepted her wholeheartedly but I never trusted her again, not after everything she put me through. She wasn’t the person I thought she was and that was okay. We were just different.

Me: “Nada! Ahlaaain sh7alch?”

            As she stepped closer, I saw her wearing a snuggly tight tracksuit and an iPod and phone in hand, one earplug lazily swinging down as she removed it from her ear. She smiled at me warmly. Her appearance hadn’t changed much.

Nada: “Zaainh al7emdilla! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

            I hugged her tightly and said that I missed her, and I realized that it was the truth. I had missed her. All things aside, we used to have lots of fun together.

Me: “How’s your family doing? Which college are you in a7eena?”

Nada: “My brother recently went abroad to finish his studies and everyone’s well al7emdilla. I'm currently in Zayed University studying Visual Arts.”

            We both smiled at that and I was genuinely happy for her because I knew that we both wanted to study art in college. I may have decided to take it as a minor course but still, I was glad to see that we were both doing what we enjoyed.

Me: “I think that’s really great nadooy, I really do. So how are you putting up with your last year?”

Nada: “It’s going really well and I’m going to miss all of my friends, but they’re putting a lot of pressure on the seniors so it’s been a little stressful. How about you? Where are you studying?”

Me:  “I’m in AUS and I’m studying Mechanical Engineering. The last year has been really tough so I barely have time to go out. But I really enjoy it and I can’t wait to start working!”

Nada: “Wow, Mechanical Engineering? Isn’t that a guy’s major?”

            And there we go again. I’ve heard that notion more times than I could even count and from almost everyone. Truth be told, I didn’t care. I wanted to do this and I didn’t let anyone discourage me.

We continued walking together in the mamsha as I explained to her the passion behind my academic choice, and she nodded in understanding. I opened up a few more subjects and then bid her goodbye as I continued in a faster pace. She matured and changed a lot since I last saw her and I was glad for that. However, I was happy that she didn’t ask about 3bdulla. I think I would have fumed with anger because I knew that there was “history” between them and I didn’t like to be reminded of it. It was a long time ago so I shrugged it off and trailed back to my train of thought of how to handle my current issue. We needed to talk it through and I think we both knew that.

In a way, I was happy that I saw Nada tonight because it made me realize that it wasn’t like me to react the way I did with 3bdulla. I shouldn’t have been defensive and I usually am not like that. I stretched a grin as I remembered what I used to tell myself when I was dealing with Nada’s dramas. People come into your life for a reason and they leave for a reason. Perhaps Nada served as a reminder of the lessons I’ve learned. I had simply forgotten until her presence reminded me of them.

***

            I relished the calm sensation I always felt whenever I took a hot shower, and I stayed under the running water a couple of extra minutes before I stepped out. I slipped into one my favorite pajamas – an exclusive one manufactured by Marvel with all of their comic heroes printed on it – rolled the towel around my head and put on my robe. I avoided 3bdulla when I came back from the mamsha and ran straight to the shower, trying with a failed attempt to calm the butterflies in my stomach. I always hated confrontations and was terrible at them, hence the reason behind my anxiety. I emerged from the bathroom and walked silently towards the living room where I heard a muffled noise. Just as I stepped in I saw that 3bdulla was watching a game. There was no point in talking to him now. He would just become annoyed and would tell me to stop bothering him. I knew how guys were with football. I sighed as I glanced at his fixed gaze on the TV and turned to walk away.

3bdulla: “Asma.”

            I stopped and turned around, astonished that he had even noticed my presence.

Me: “Hmm?”

3bdulla: “Bi’3aity shay?”

Me: “3ady it can wait. Continue your game, I wouldn’t want you to miss anything.”

            I smiled and left the room still smiling. I realized then how much I missed him, his teasing me and playing with my hair. We had been formal with each other for days now and I could bear it no longer. I wanted to cuddle with him at night, not stay on our separate ends of the bed. I opened my hair and let it air dry as I grabbed my book and slipped into bed, waiting for his game to finish. Tonight we were going to fix things and I was anxious for the worst to be done with and excited for things to go back to the way they should be. I turned the page over and got engrossed into my book.

            “No!” he whispered, and then his voice rose to a tormented shout. “No, damn you! Don’t tell me that–!”

            “Jason­–“

            “Don’t you dare tell me that!” he shouted in agony.

            Mike Farrell spoke, but he turned his head away from the unbearable torment on the other man’s ravaged face. “Her horse threw her off the bridge into the river, about four miles from here. O’Malley went in after her, but he couldn’t find her. He–“

            “Get out,” Jason whispered

            “I’m sorry, Jason. Sorrier than I can say.”

            “Get out!”

            When Mike Farrell left, Jason stretched his hand toward Victoria’s cloak, his fingers slowly closing on the wet wool, pulling it toward him. The muscles at the base of his throat worked convulsively as he brought the sodden cloak to his chest, stroking it lovingly with his hand, and then he buried his face in it, rubbing it against his cheek. Waves of agonizing pain exploded through his entire being, and the tears he had thought he was incapable of shedding fell from his eyes. “No,” he sobbed in demented anguish. And then he screamed it.

           

Me: “But she’s alive, she hasn’t died!”

            I muffled a whimpered whisper under my breath as I turned the page over, tears falling from my eyes. Just as I was about to start the next chapter, I heard a soft noise coming from the door. I looked up and saw 3bdulla leaning against one of the columns, watching me intently. I quickly wiped the few tears I had shed and closed the book, feeling extremely vulnerable. When he didn’t say anything, I laughed at myself and said, “stupid book…” in an attempt to conceal my embarrassment. This was the first time he saw me getting emotional over a fictional story. I hadn’t wanted him to know about this part of me, at least not until later perhaps. His game finished sooner than I had anticipated. I put on a composed expression as he walked towards me and climbed over the bed. He held my face and wiped my dampened cheeks gently, and I could see a hidden grin on his face as he clasped his lips tightly together. I sat very still as I enjoyed the simple but loving caress.

3bdulla: “We need to talk, you know…”

Me: “Yeah, I know.”

To be continued…