The Flying Dreams

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

I scrolled down to reread the conversation with Zoya, a shade of smile never leaving my face and I lingered on the photo of my cousins sitting in front of the Taj Mahal, I was leaning my head on Zoya's shoulder, and her head touched the top of mine. My lips were stretched into a wide smile, I didn't remember my exact age but the pink hijab on my head gave away a hint; I must be above 13 then. All the faces in the photo now seemed too unfamiliar, I knew all of them but not enough to recognize each one and match their younger faces with the now grownups. It was a strange feeling—to know someone and yet not know them. She had sent me the picture last night with a dozen hearts and three laughing emojis, I had completely forgotten about the picture or even that it existed, Zoya was looking through old photo albums in our home and that was probably the seventh time I had opened the chat and stared at the image.

Tears had spilled on my pillow in the night as I saw my face in the photo, so happy and thrilled and so uncaring of what happened around me but after an hour, I sat on the bed with a hot cup of tea clasped between my hands, the reaction felt a little too extra. That had been happening a lot lately—the crying and not knowing why. I blamed it on my pre-menstruation mood swings despite the forceful tug at my heart, screaming the reason for its heaviness. It was better to blame the impossible than listen to the reason. The luck had played on my part thus no breaking down in front of Shifa, though my throat knotted in discomfort at least thrice in front of her and she knew. That was the worst part of it all—she knew how much strength it took me to hold it together and was kind enough to keep her mouth shut.

On an emotional impulse I sent another text to Zoya asking her if all the cousins have arrived home. Decorations were done and so were the other minor arrangements. The invitation cards Wahab brought with set inside my bag, I only used one. Rohan claimed he didn't need an invitation at all but obviously, if he were to gain entry, he would need the card. I hadn't looked at Divya and she did me the courtesy of pretending that nothing was wrong. I knew I wouldn't get a reply from Zoya for a few hours, it was the time for the night prayer, the longest one but I had nothing else to do than wait for her to text back. I could have turned on the TV but watching it without Shifa felt ritually wrong. 

With a long sigh, I dropped the phone on the table and draped my hand over my face. I didn't deal well with being alone in a place for too long. Shifa had gone for her exam in the morning and didn't even call to let me know when she would return, this was the third time, and I just couldn't bring myself to call her and ask. Things had been a little awkward with her after her strange request to me to wear a shirt of her favourite colour, I couldn't connect the dots and didn't understand her embarrassment after the incident, but I knew the reason of my uneasiness around her, it felt immoral to even look at her for more than a minute, so, I tried to avoid her, and she did the same. In fact, she did a better job than me. I had, as a matter of fact, stared at her from the kitchen as she got ready in the morning and never found her looking at me even once. Only answering to my good luck with a nod and a smile and was out of the door before I could return her smile.

The door opened and I sat up abruptly, straining my lower back a bit. Shifa scrunched her nose in greeting and handed me a tote bag, all too careful to keep her fingers on the edge of it to prevent any accidents of touching. I held the offered bag from below, a pathetic attempt to take a tiny amount of lost composure. Her bag slung over one shoulder and the tired lines on her face almost prompted me to ask about her exams but before I could let out a word, she had turned her back. I watched her cross the distance from the living room to her room in only five strides, it was easy to forget how tall she really was. I averted my eyes from her door and peeked inside the bag. The blouse of my lehnga, gold and bright. Just the sight of it made something inside my chest tighten and the dread of unexplainable settled in immediately. And there it was again, the knot in my throat.

"I have booked train tickets for tomorrow. Have you talked to Wahab about your return?"

I didn't want to do it. Not again. Not in front of her. I didn't want her to see me crying once again and not being able to provide any reason for it. If I had opened my mouth, only the worst would have happened. I just shook my head to answer her. I had not talked to Wahab about my return and admitting it to Shifa might turn my fear into reality. That it was over. I wouldn't return at all and spend the rest of my life in Wahab's home. All the study and work for nothing. He thought I had had my fun of experiencing the ecstasy of living in a dream and now it was time to start my real job of being his wife and future mother of his children. What else could be the reason of Wahab not saying anything of the matter? And ummi avoiding the subject whenever I did gather the courage to ask? 

"Adia? Don't you wanna try it-", she halted midsentence and when she spoke again, I hated the clear rhythm of concern in her voice instead of irritation, "-hey, what's wrong?"

I shook my head again, pressed my lips and squeezed my eyes shut in a vain effort to stop myself before I further damaged my own pride. Shifa's hand touched the top of my head so delicately that if I wasn't trying so hard to breath, I would have laughed at her way of treating me. The twine holding my emotions in a loose grasp broke. My grip on the golden blouse tightened and I managed to let out the words which had been stuck inside my head ever since she said it.

"What is the thing you're going to regret?"

Her hand stilled on my hair, a finger gently brushing along my ear, I gave easily into the shiver. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible, "You already know it."

I did. I knew it the moment she had said it. Her gaze lingering on my lips a little longer than acceptable, her touch hovering between bold and hesitant and her open fear of showing it on her face made it all so painfully obvious that it took me a lot more willpower to pretend not to see. My thumb kept caressing the thread on my lehnga, the one I was supposed to wear on my wedding, for Wahab. I didn't tell her how her regret was fast becoming mine.

"I won't stop you."

Her fingers moved again, sliding from my ear down the slop of my neck and I didn't force myself to not feel. If I had to give up on my only dream, then I deserved the right to at least do one thing I craved to do. Have her touch me the way she did that girl and feel her lips on mine. If I had to live out my life in a soft confinement, I wanted to do it with the memory of freedom engraved in my mind. A choice I made on my own without the burdensome presence of my parents and Wahab. A decision for myself and the feel of having Shifa all to myself, just for once. 

"I know."

A tickle of annoyance surprised me, I grabbed her hand and craned up my neck to look at her. I didn't shy away from the longing and stark naked desire in her eyes and held her gaze, and watched her eyes drop to my mouth so fleetingly that I thought I might have just imagined it, a guise for my own desire. To fuel my gestures into a shameful endeavour. 

"I don't understand why you won't. I am getting married, Shifa."

Her whole face softened and at last, she bowed her head. Her hand left a warmth on my skin, and I so desperately wanted to place it back on my body and feel it again.

"You'd hate yourself if you allowed me to kiss you now."