"Aslam alkium wa rhamta Allah wa barktu," my aunt said but I knew she never wants peace for me. I remember her threatening my mom and telling her that she will turn our existence into a living hell and for a while, she succeeded.
"wlakium al-salam was rhatma Allah" I replied entering and scanning the scenery. "since it was so sudden, I could only arrange the basement for you to stay in"
"it's fine" I was only staying there temporarily anyways. My uncle dropped off some of my bags and left, he was a carpenter. I had learned some things from him but at the same time, my aunt always interrupted by assigning me chores so I never learned much. My postpartum pregnancy period hadn't ended yet but I already knew it was considered over to my aunt, I would have to start pulling myself together again. I laid Jabil down next to me and put pillows around him so he doesn't fall. we only had two pillows I asked my aunt for an extra one and she told me that they didn't have anymore. I slept with no pillows making sure to place Jabil between the two pillows. I laid my arm beneath my head and watched over him. He didn't have much hair yet but I could see the color was going to be almond, like his father's hair. I drifted into sleep smiling at the sight of my tiny qamar. (Qamar=moon)
"Are you still sleeping at this time of day?" My aunt said knocking heavily on the door. The clock was 7 in the morning. Jabil woke up and cried from the sound of the heavy knocking.
"look at that, even your son wakes up before you." I didn't answer and started getting dressed. she banged her fists on the door harder "GET THE HELL UP"
"I'm up," I said comforting Jabil to go back to sleep. "I want to wake up to a spotless house you understand"
"yes," I said. I watched her head back to her room upstairs. "I'm having guests so take measures." she went to sleep and I cleaned the house and cooked. I never liked my aunt's friends they were very similar to her. I guess it's true what people say, a rotten fruit ruins the fruit around it.
"she's so beautiful, Masha Allah," one of the women said as I was handing out the tea, my aunt watched me with disgust and when I I got closer I placed the cup in her hand and she spilled it, tilting it towards me. I pull my hand away quickly feeling my skin sting.
I felt the heat of the water burn down my skin. The other woman looked at me like I was crazy. Their eyes burned holes into my back. "what's wrong with you, be more careful" one of them said. The other woman rolled her eyes and they all had disgusted expressions on their face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" I felt myself back up and rush to the kitchen to apply honey over the burn like my mother taught me. "you see what I have to deal with. I have to raise her all over again. God forgive me for talking about the dead but her moth...."
her words fade as I enter the kitchen and she highers her voice while I try to block out the sound and concentrate on the swelling of my skin rubbing honey very gently over it. "it's okay Hadiya. Don't overexaggerate it's just a burn" I say to myself not trying to make the situation seem bigger than it is.
"come on what's taking you so long?? You should be trying to compensate for your laziness not hide away" she yelled and her voice echoed like a screech in my ear. I went back and finished serving them and this time more of them gave me dirty looks as if I was wrong to go catch a break for my hand. my aunt threw food on the ground on purpose waiting for me to clean it. I bent down near her feet and picked up the pieces of food. she stepped on my hand and I tried to pull it away quietly. I was grateful it wasn't my burnt hand because that would have hurt much more.
She lifted her foot and I pulled my hand away rapidly I was just so used to this. it used to be like this with my mom too, I didn't mind. I hear her talking about me to the woman when I was washing dishes in the kitchen. I tried to blur out the sound by focusing more on the dishes but I heard words and they hurt even when they shouldn't. I wasn't the only victim of her conversations, so many other people too. Every time she gathered with her friends I imagined all the people's meat she eats. The ayah from surah Al-Hujurat replays in my head.
"And do not spy or backbite each other. Would one of you like to eat the flesh of his brother when dead? وَلَا تَجَسَّسُوا وَلَا يَغْتَب بَّعْضُكُم بَعْضًا ۚ أَيُحِبُّ أَحَدُكُمْ أَن يَأْكُلَ لَحْمَ أَخِيهِ مَيْتًا" (Quran 49:12).
wouldn't it have been better for her to remain alone than drag these women along with her to commit haram?
My aunt took great pleasure in humiliating me. I wonder what it was that triggered her animosity towards my family. All these years and I could never figure out how someone can store so much hate for another person. I wondered so many times if there was a reason behind her hate but I can't remember doing anything to her. Maybe some people just love to hate.
she called for me to clean when they left and the place always looked like a herd of animals had stormed in and caused a mess. My uncle would only return late to eat and sleep. He worked all day and so my days were occupied serving my aunt and her friends. I cooked four times a day. one was breakfast for them. Then it was lunch and dinner with her friends and lastly, I cooked a meal for my uncle before he gets home. I was losing track of time. I was cleaning and cooking and that was all. I hardly had time to take care of Jabil and he was growing up so quickly. He took his first turns on the bed and even had his first baby steps. He was the only light in this dark place. As I prayed I placed him close to me and sometimes he would crawl in front of me. His hair was brown and shaped like tiny springs. it was curly like mine giving him a messy look when he woke up. His eyes were hazel and every time I felt hopeless I looked at him and remembered how much good Allah has given me. As long as I have him I'm happy, no matter what my aunt does to me she can never destroy this joy.
YOU ARE READING
A silent cry
Historical Fiction"and after all this time of waiting the devil would reach out to me and whisper, he's dead and you are here, how much longer will you wait, how much longer would you deny the truth, at some point, I was afraid that he would unlock my ribcage and sen...
