Fragments of Us

half-day rituals

If someone asked Iza Patel what one of her favorite pastimes was, she would reply: people-watching.Her reason was simple: observation was the best muse for inspiration. She found if she paid attention to the little details and recorded them, seeds of inspiration became rooted—then they blossomed into characters, settings, plotlines, motifs, and eventually a story. It was a concept she could spend hours explaining to others, mostly adults, with only a few comprehending what she meant. She found those people were like herself—drawn to the arts. Eventually, she stopped explaining why she carried a black journal with her everywhere she went, well, until today.

It was currently the last day of eight grade, and her entire middle school was at their local park playing field day games, a tradition Iza usually loved. It was also a half-day which meant early dismissal. Yet, after yearbooks had been delivered, and other senior mementos, she found it hard to be a part of the bustling excitement. She had sat out after signing a plethora of yearbooks and playing three games of volleyball. At some point, Iza had given her best friend her yearbook to have other people in their grade sign it.

She was currently seated on a picnic blanket with a book in her lap. Her wispy black hair was pulled into a topknot with strands sticking out, and the sleeves of her short-sleeved shirt were rolled and bunched at her armpits. To say it was hot was an understatement, and she was glad she'd chosen to wear jean shorts today.

From her bird's eye view, Iza could make out all the games going on: soccer, flag football, volleyball, badminton, basketball, frisbee and kickball. Yet, her eyes had landed amongst a certain golden-haired boy throughout most of the morning. Levenson Romano had scurried away from most of his friends after playing countless rounds of soccer and flag football. He was on one of their non-designated fields kicking a soccer ball and jamming to music. An act that would have gotten him detention if he'd been caught.

He's always been one to do his own thing, Iza thought to herself.

Each time their gazes mingled that morning, Iza turned beet red and quickly glanced away. That's how most of their in-person reactions had gone in the past year.

"Are you sure you don't want to hang out with us after school?" asked Zaara Rahman, she sat next to her best friend and took a long gulp from her water bottle. She instantly broke Iza from her reverie. Like everyone else, Zaara was getting her yearbook signed, hanging out with other friends, and joining in on the various games going on. At thirteen, Zaara was several inches shorter than Iza, standing at 4 '11", but her sassiness trumped her petite stature—a quality Iza loved about her. She handed Iza her yearbook which she stashed in her bag.

"My parents are picking me up," Iza replied, "We're going to the hospital after. Simran's waiting for us to meet the twins." Simran, Iza's older sister of ten years, had given birth to twins, JJ and Yami, earlier this morning. Her parents had suggested she take the day off, but both Iza and Simran protested as today was the last day of eighth grade.

"You're so lucky. I wish I was an aunt. Did your sister send any pictures?"

"Yeah, she did. The twins look more like Simran than Rahul."

Iza pulled out her phone and swiped through the endless messages she and her sister had sent throughout the morning, and finally found the individual pictures of the twins. Yami Kapoor, born at 8:13 am weighed 5.5 pounds, while her little brother Jaivir Kapoor weighed 5.2 pounds and was born three minutes after. Despite being postpartum for only a few hours, Simran was already on her feet much to her husband's dismay. Iza couldn't blame him, she was also concerned about her sister being active after her cesarean section.

"They're so freaking adorable, Iza. I'm so jealous," Zaara excitedly confessed. She practically snatched the phone out of her best friend's hand and swiped through the images. With each image she swiped through, her excitement crescendoed, mirroring Iza's own. Although she was more composed when it came to expressing her feelings, it didn't mean she wasn't anticipating holding her new nephew and niece. She was grateful that Simran and the babies hadn't experienced any complications. The thought had been weighing on her mind the whole morning.