I woke up in the emergency room, with Safiyah staring down at me, worried.
"Mama, she woke up!" She exclaimed. I look towards to foot of the hospital bed to see my mother getting up to rush towards me and caress my face. I let out a sigh of relief only to choke on it.
"Nabeel" I say gasping for air.
"Shh, habibti, he's alright. Your father's with him now."
Blood, I think, flashing back to the accident. "He was bleeding Mama, is he okay? What happened? When can I see him? Where-"
A knock on the door interrupted all my questions, and the doctor came in to check on me.
"Oh Muneerah! Great to see you finally awake! How are you feeling?" She asks me, bright and cheery as ever.
Scared. I don't tell her. "Where is my husband?" I demanded to know.
"Oh don't worry about him, he'll be fine. He's a tough guy, you know. It's yourself you should be worried about. How does your head feel?" She says in a soothing voice.
"My head feels fine, I feel fine. When can I get out of here?" I say nervously, eyeing the saline drip attatched to my arm.
"Soon, if all the tests go alright." She says, continuing to check the computer near me. We sit in silence for a few minutes, her clacking of the keyboard being the only noise in the room.
A slight knock on the door disrupts the silence and my father comes in with a worried expression. His face softens when he sees me.
"Baba" I whimper, when he comes over to me and gives my hand a squeeze.
"It'll be okay habibti," he says reassuringly.
The doctor proceeds in asking me what feels like a hundred questions until finally she wraps up and leaves. Safiyah and my mother leave the room behind her, until it's just my dad and I.
"How is he?" I ask him softly, curious as ever.
My father draws in a sharp breath through his teeth, and decades later lets it out.
"I'm not going to lie to you habibti," he begins. I grimace and brace myself for the worst. "Nabeel is not doing too good. He has a broken arm and a few bruised ribs, shards of glass cut in him various places across his chest and neck. One came so close to his jugular vein, bas* Allah had mercy on him, and he's still with us. Healing will take some time for him. They're writing him a strong dose of painkillers and Mupirocin for the cuts. They've already put a cast on his arm. They're constricting him to bed for a few days, but they expect him to be on his feet soon. It'll help his healing, they said. " My father finishes and looks to me, searching my eyes for any emotion.
I felt overjoyed. He's alive, I thought. Remembering how minutes just before the accident we were both shouting at each other. Better an injured Nabeel than no Nabeel at all. I make a silent note in my mind to pray 2 raka'at shukran Allah after I get out of here. "Alhamdulilah 3ala kulli hal.*" Was all I said. My father shut his eyes and sighed with what sounded like relief. "And how is your head Munni?"
Instinctively my hand flies to my head and I feel a bandage around it. Confused, I look at my dad with an eyebrow raised. "You banged it on the dashboard, before you fell unconcious. At least thats what they say might've happened."
"That's strange, because I don't feel anything." I tell my dad. "When are they letting me out? I hate hospitals. And needles." I shudder.
My dad chuckles and says, "I know you do, but you should be out soon. Maybe you'll be coming home with us tonight, Inshallah*."
YOU ARE READING
The Year of You (on hold)
Roman d'amourI had you in my arms, locked in an embrace. We were close, so very close and we couldn't get closer. And then suddenly I fell thousands of feet, my arm outstretched praying you'd grab my arm and pull me up and tell me you'll never let me go! But yo...
