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Chapter 5

The adorable Joey Bragg as Qaahir Arnold. You're all beautiful!

It was worldly known that some things are just instinct. They cannot be taught or developed. When it happened, it happened.

If the proverbial dropping of my heart was anything to go by, then it was basic instinct to know that Qaahir was a horrible driver. He ran each traffic light like he was colour blind to the colour red.

"Slow down, Qaahir! Are you trying to kill us!" Adam screamed, his white-knuckled grip tightening around his seat belt.

"Relax. I've been running red lights ever since I got my license."

"That doesn't make me feel the least bit better."

"We're here," Qaahir said, exasperated. "You can keep your panties on, Grandma."

"You're a piece of work, you know that?"

Qaahir shrugged and opened my car door. "After you, m'lady."

I climbed out. "Thank you." I didn't have to turn around to know Adam was rolling his eyes.

"Okay, what are we doing at an empty park?" I asked. That wasn't entirely true. There was an old, probably homeless man sitting on one of the park benches.

"I lied to you," Adam began. He paused, choosing his words, before saying, "I lied about who I was."

"I figured that part out." I said. He never covered his tracks well enough. And I was observant, it gave me time to kill to make up for the fact that I drowned in the feeling of nothingness.

"I lied because I've been watching you for a while now." There were different tones for different scenarios. Tones in voices of excitement. Petrified tones. And that tone used by people in movies when their about to kiss and wet each other in unsanitary saliva. The tone Adam used when he broke the news that he had been watching me long before I met him should have been that of a remorseful person. I've studied facial cards extensively enough to know that he didn't look guilty.

"Why have you been watching me?"

"Yeah, why have you been watching her?" Qaahir asked, smiling. Not understanding the severity of the situation.

"Because Zylen told me to." I've never seen a smile turn into a confused frown as quickly as Qaahir executed the action.

"Why?" Qaahir was now the one doing the questioning.

"Because Zylen is Zylen. He obviously knew she had something and wanted to be sure. He's probably right. That's why I brought her here: so you can show her."

"That's why you wanted me to show her? I just thought you wanted me to impress her so I could finally get laid."

"You are disgusting." Adam said.

"So I've been told." Qaahir replied, without any shame. They continued arguing, slowly forgetting my existence in the mix.

Throughout the whole odd conversation held by the oddest boys I've ever met, it suggested itself that I obviously had nothing better to do with my time. A pitiful discovery, but a genuine one nevertheless.

"Just show her," Adam finally said, "It's getting late."

Qaahir scoffed in response and said, "I'll show her. But if it turns out you and Zylen were wrong, then it becomes a 'you' problem. Not mine."

"Whatever, just do it."

"Nike reference?"

"Qaahir!"

"Fine! Lighten up." Qaahir said, unsmiling. But his eyes were alight with humour. He turned to me and asked; "You see that man over there?"

I glanced at the old man sitting on the bench. "Yes."

"Come with me." He walked toward the man, under the impression that I was gingerly walking behind him. When he turned around and realised I was still standing in the same spot, as if me and the ground were conjoined twins, he stopped.

"Why aren't you moving?" As if it weren't obvious.

"I will not go and disturb that man." I said.

"Who said we're going to disturb him. Trust me, okay? I know Adam was a real creepy, douche but he meant well. Nothing will make sense unless you let me show you." In the one hour that I've known Qaahir, he never looked as serious as he did now.

"I wasn't a creepy douche." Was Adam's argument.

In response to his plea, I began walking in his direction. He smiled, a smile that hinted nobody has ever listened to him before, and continued down the grassy path towards the elderly man.

"Hey, Mr. Karriem." Qaahir greeted then took a seat next to the man.

"Hi, boy." The man said, the deep set wrinkles across his forehead becoming more pronounced as the corners of his mouth lifted into a smile. "And please, I told you to call me Abdul. Mr. Karriem just make me feel old." The walking stick that stood idly at his side should have been the deciding factor in what should make him feel old or not. I kept my thoughts to myself, though. And waited for Qaahir to introduce me to the man he spoke to so very fondly.

"Uh, Abdul. This is Aura. She's a friend of mine."

"Your girlfriend, yes?" Abdul asked bluntly, giving me a warm smile.

Qaahir laughed. "She wishes. No, she's just a friend."

"It's nice to meet you, Abdul." I said bleakly. He grinned at me, giving me full view if his dentures, which shone brightly in spite of the absence of direct sunlight.

"She's pretty and polite. You should snatch her before that ginger friend of yours steals her away." He was looking at Adam, who sat, indolent, on a swing.

"I highly doubt it," I said, before Qaahir could respond with something similar. Abdul just continued smiling. I marvelled at his ability to use those facial muscles for that long.

"I like her," Abdul said to Qaahir. "She's just like my wife," The light dimmed in Abdul's brown eyes. "Hajar," He said fondly, the way one would murmur something sacred; for their ears alone. He shakily stood up, and walked up to a spot near the see-saw, mumbling incoherently to himself.

Qaahir looked to me. "He normally gets like this when he thinks of Hajar." Qaahir sat silently for a heartbeat, something I presumed was a rarity for him. He then stood abruptly, like the bench was on fire and said, "I'm sorry. I can't do this. Let's just go."

I followed him wordlessly, deciding that this much absurdity was enough for one day.

Adam looked up from his phone when he saw our shadows nearing him. "What happened?"

"I don't want to do this anymore. If you want to show Aura what we can do. Do it yourself." Qaahir walked away brusquely before Adam could respond.

"I'm sorry, Aur-" He sighed. I found the apologies unnecessary. So I waved him off mid sentence. "It's okay. Let's just go."

He nodded, but uttered nothing. And as I walked, passing Abdul, who kept muttering his wife's name, over and over again, in loving succession, I had an epiphany: she was a lucky woman.