The Essence of Noah (Muslim story)

Neighbours

I wanted to be a doctor. I wasn't sure until I took the compulsory year ten class, but since then, I became infatuated with the idea of becoming one. What made it even better was the fact that is one of the most elite courses taught at the University of Adelaide, so naturally, I wanted in. I worked hard, slaving away my summer to get a head start on all my subjects, and staying up late revising for tests and exams. School wasn't my problem; it was the UMAT. You just can't prepare for that, and it's fair to say that I flunked it. I did less than satisfactory, and the moment I stepped out the examination room, I knew I needed a backup plan.

I got a scholarship to Adelaide Uni to study there, but I didn't get into medicine. My parents were overjoyed; mum at my efforts and Baba for not having to worry about my HEX debt. I was happy too, but if PLP taught me one thing other than wanting to study medicine, it was not all degrees pay well. And so I became wealth orientated. It's not that I'm greedy and intend on making a fortune, but if I'm going to be studying willingly and getting myself into a life long debt, then I might as well study something that will pay.

That's how I got stuck at UniSA, kissing my scholarship and dream of wearing a maroon varsity jacket goodbye. It was the only Uni that offered pharmacy- my backup plan. I endured a year of having to walk past Adelaide Uni every day, seeing students wearing the maroon vests and entering and existing the building like I dreamed. I endured it for a year, but I couldn't do it for another three. That's why I decided to transfer to Monash. That and I couldn't stand Baba complaining about me wasting my scholarship and mum reprimanding my choice to study pharmacy instead of a bachelor of arts. In a way, moving to Melbourne was a solution to all my problems; it was my escape, and like anyone who fears complications, I hit the road and didn't dare look back.

~*~

My first day of Uni at Monash was alright. There was no amazing moment where I fell in love with the campus or thought 'this is so much better than the University of Adelaide', because it wasn't. It was just another Uni, in a different place, that wasn't what I wanted. Nonetheless though, if I told Baba I didn't like it here and wanted to move to Sydney, he'd probably fly me back to Adelaide and find me a job at Bunnings for the rest of my life.

I hitch my backpack more comfortably on my back as I round the corner to my apartment building. My car still in its same parked, looks so out of place amongst all the other more 'recent' cars. It doesn't bother me though, because I hardly ever drive anywhere. I'm not an environmentalist, it's just that I prefer to walk; one of the only habits I picked up from mum. She however, is a 'somewhat' environmentalist. She makes sure everything she buys is organic or environmentally friendly, takes the shortest showers possible and even has her own compost bin in the backyard. That, and she practically loses it if Baba accidentally throws his polystyrene coffee cup in the recycling.

I walk up the footpath to the building door, where I notice my mailbox and the edge of a white envelope poking through the thin slit. I stop as I walk and head towards the mailbox. I wouldn't normally care about my mail and would wait for a few more days until it starts to pile up, but having just moved in a few days ago, I'm interested to know who's mailing me so soon. I don't unlock the mailbox; instead, I pinch the corner of the envelope and pull it out slowly. Reading the name, I'm partially disappointed that it isn't for me.

'N. Sheppard
45 Keswick Terrace, No. 7
Parkville, 3010'

The handwritten ink makes me smile. I've never received a handwritten letter before, there's no one I know that would send me one. Up until now I've lived with my parents and on Baba's side of the family, no one really writes- they prefer to call, and on mum's side, I'm not really in contact with anyone.

Apartment number seven, that's right next door to mine. The apartment that the guy from the night I first moved in, lives in. I can't be sure though, I haven't seen him since that night, and considering we're neighbours and there's only one long cement wall between our apartments, that is a bit weird. I haven't seen him, but I can hear what's going on inside his place. The sound of moving furniture and even boots stomping on the hardwood floor does my head in sometimes.

It may be the fact that I would like to meet my neighbour, or that I would like to put a face to the obnoxiously loud person living next door, but either way, I don't slide the letter into the thin number seven mailbox slit. I hold the envelope tightly in my hand as I start my way up the two flights of stairs. Walking up them, my bag feels ten times heavier on my back, and a growing ache forms in my knees. I'm sweating, beneath my shirt, I can feel my armpits dampening and the hairs at the nape of my neck burning with the heat forming beneath my scarf.

I take the last few steps to the second floor landing, poking the tip of my tongue out and dampening my chaffed lips. I've broken a sweat walking up stairs. Mum would be embarrassed. I place the envelope between my knees as I pat my face gently to ease the redness that I know has built up; I can feel the heat radiating off my cheeks. Licking my lips once more, I take the envelope in my hand and pass my door to knock on number sevens.

I knock three times and take a step back, staring at the brass number seven at the top of the door. I wait patiently for a minute or so, fiddling with the letter in my hands and nibbling on my lower lip. I don't rush and am slightly thankful for the delay because it's giving me time to catch my breath.

Taking a step forward I knock again and wait, but still, I get no reply. I lean my head forward, pressing the side of my face to the door to hear inside, but there's no sound. Of all days.
Trying my luck one last time, I knock on the door and stand back. The crisp feeling of the envelope has wilted in my clammy hands from the heat, leaving sticky finger marks where I've been holding it for too long.

Sighing, I lick my lips; I guess there's no one home. I bend my knees and examine the crack beneath the door. It's not big, probably smaller than the mailbox slits down stairs, but I give it a go anyway. I slide the edge of the letter, being as a gently as possible to not ruin it.

"Can I help you?" A voice startles me, making me drop the envelope on the floor as I stand quickly and take a step back. I can't help the look of surprise that dresses my face as I stare at him, mimicking my expression. "Hana?" My name drops from his mouth in a pant as I watch him swallow and his Adam's apple bops. I'm not the only one struggling from the heat and stairs.

"You're the Tip-Top guy- Noah." I'm tempted to ask what he's doing here, but I figure he's more interested in what I'm doing. "You live here?" I point to the door by my side, where the envelope is half way in and half way out. "You were in Adelaide, you work there."

"So were you." The lethargic tone of the Aussie accent rolls off his tongue. It's slow and lazy, but oddly fitting to his appearance. He's wearing cargo shorts and Dunlops, just like I saw him the night I first got here, but he's wearing a proper t-shirt this time; plain white. His light brown hair however, is still the same; drooping over his forehead in a mess of tangled waves barely reaching his eyes.

"I'm studying here."

"So am I."

"But you work in Adelaide."

"It was a summer job." Oh. I pull my lower lip between my teeth as I stand silently. I avoid staring anywhere, but at Noah. Of all the people my neighbour could have been, it had to be the guy I met a Tip-Top. I can feel him staring at me, "What were you doing?" His tone doesn't hold accusation in it, which is somewhat relieving.

"I uh," I bend down and slip out the envelope from beneath the door. Extending my arm, I hold it out for him to take, suddenly regretting choosing to personally deliver the letter. "Came to give you this. It was in my mailbox." Noah stares at it, before taking it and reading the front.

"Thanks."

"No worries." I take it as my cue to leave, giving him a small smile before walking around him to the door behind him. He turns around, following my movements as I stop at my door. I hear him chuckle.

"We're neighbours." He states as he leans against the wall, envelope between his two hands.

"Yeah." I pull my keys out from my pocket and unlock the front door. "Bye." I say, though linger at the door.

"See you neighbour."