Forever, Again

Present: Sep 24, 2023 (part 2)

Aliya sat dazed in her living room, the sun's glare reflecting off the Hudson River and piercing through the windows. The room, with its pristine white couches and tasteful art, felt more like a stranger's house than her own. Dylan's words echoed in her mind, each one cutting deeper with every passing second. The memory of his voice mingled with the distant hum of the city—a sound that now felt as empty as her heart.

The leather of the couch was cool and smooth beneath her fingertips, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside her. She could hear the faint ticking of the clock in the hallway, each tick marking a moment she wished she could escape. The rustle of the trees outside the window sounded like whispers.

Aliya closed her eyes, and the room seemed to dissolve into the past. Sounds of laughter and music filled her ears, remnants of a life that felt like it belonged to someone else. The melody of a forgotten song drifted through her mind.

Her fingers fumbled for her phone again. The smooth, cold glass felt alien in her hand. She needed to hear her mother's voice. They fought a lot, but no one else made her feel as loved. Each ring of the phone made her anxiety worse, her breathing fast and shallow. The ringing was a relentless assault on her nerves. What if they had fought before the accident? What if her mother didn't answer?

Finally, the call connected. Her mother's voice, warm yet strained, crackled through the speaker. "Ali... Alu... is that you?"

Aliya's voice trembled. "Ma, it's me."

"Oh, Aliya," her mother's words came out in a rush. "Thank God. I've been so worried. I called Luke over and over. I didn't know what else to do."

The flood of words and sobs from the other end was overwhelming, each sentence hitting Aliya like waves crashing onto the shore. The sound of her mother's crying filled the space around her, raw and unfiltered, carrying all the fear and relief.

Aliya's eyes welled up, and tears spilled down her cheeks. She could feel her mother's anguish through the phone, as if it was a tangible presence wrapping around her. The air felt thick with unspoken pain, and Aliya's heart ached with each ragged breath.

"Aliya, Alu, how are you feeling?" her mother's voice trembled through the phone. Aliya closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the question pressing down on her.

"I... I don't know, Ma," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Everything feels so... surreal."

Her mother's sigh was heavy with sorrow. "I thought you needed space, honey," her mother continued, voice cracking. "Luke said you've been distant, and I didn't want to overwhelm you."

"Ma," Aliya whispered, her throat tight, "I can't remember anything. It's like there's a fog in my mind." The phone felt cold and heavy in her hand, her grip tightening. She could almost hear the crash of metal and glass from the accident, a haunting echo in her mind. The screeching tires, the blaring horns, the shattering impact—sounds that lived in her nightmares.

Tears streamed down Aliya's face, blurring her vision. "Ma, what happened with Dylan? Why won't he listen to me? How can I divorce him?"

Her mother's reply was soft, but full of pain. "Aliya, you never wanted to talk about it. You shut everyone out. And then... Dylan stopped answering my calls."

The sound of her mother's voice crackling through the line seemed to mirror the cracking in Aliya's heart. The silence that followed felt thick, pressing against her ears, as if the weight of their shared grief was too much for the fragile connection to bear.

Aliya closed her eyes, trying to remember. She saw flashes of the Grammy stage, the weight of the award in her hand, the cheering crowd. Then, nothing. Just darkness. The memories were like shards of glass, sharp and fragmented, cutting through her mind.