The Essence of Noah (Muslim story)

Balcony

Boxes still crowd my multi-functional living space, yet despite their sight frustrating me, I can't seem to gather up the energy to sort everything out. It's been two weeks, and I'm still sleeping on a mattress on the floor, living out of boxes and suitcases. I'm glad I unpacked everything for the kitchen when I did, because that's the only part of the apartment that I actually use.

I stir my shai, watching as a whir hole forms on the surface and gradually becomes smaller as I take out the spoon, tapping it on the edge of the mug before setting it aside on the counter. I stare over the kitchen bench top to the crowded living space and out the double doors to the balcony. One of the advertising features on the real estate website, was the 'spectacular view of Melbourne; soaring city view towards the North and the lush blue ocean to the South.' I'm not suggesting that the real estate agent is a liar, but I think the description would be more fitting for apartments on the upper floors; the only view I'm getting from two storeys up, is rooftops, and if I cran my neck high enough I can just make out the park down the road. In my opinion, a better description would have been 'large glass double doors leading out to a one man balcony with fantastic views of zinc roofing and light reflecting car hoods.'

Taking my mug with me, I walk around and between the boxes to stand in front of the doors. I guess they're a pretty good source of light during the day. Opening one of the doors, a humid breeze hits my face, blowing my stray curls out of my face. I open the door wider and step outside; my bare feet burn from the feeling of the hot, sun burnt cement, but the pain is endurable.

I sip at my shai, as the wind blows and my thoughts get carried away to the workload ahead of me. The first thing on my list is a food shop. So far, I've been living off of deli food and the remains of the noodles I bought from the Chinese store. I haven't been back there, and I don't plan on going any time soon. I rest my mug on the metal banister as I stare down at the road. Far to the side, I can see me car parked, and sure enough the light reflecting off its hood is almost blinding. It's probably so hot in there, I could air fry a chicken. Nonetheless though I need to do a food shop, and that burning piece of mobile metal is my only form of transport. Taking another sip, I close my head and move my feet slightly as my soles become too warm.

The sound of keys rattling and a door opening makes me splutter and step back onto the cool floorboards inside my apartment. Gulping down and licking my shai moistened lips, I lean my head to look over at the adjacent balcony. Noah steps out barefooted in a pair of board shorts and an oversized tank top. His hair is damp and dripping shiny beads of water down his face, trickling to his chin where they cling hopelessly before dropping.

I avert my gaze momentarily as I take a long sip from my cooling shai. Noah brings a hand to his hair, combing his fingers through it and raking it away from his forehead. His hair looks sleeked back, but it doesn't stay in place, as he places his hand on the banister and leans over it and stares below. Involuntarily, my eyes widen and my heart takes a heavy beat against my chest as more than half of his body leans over the banister.

Noah turns around, and it's only then that I realise he's holding a phone to his ear. He leans his waist against the banister as he looks seemingly unconscious into his apartment. As he does so, I retreat further into mine. If I can see him from where I stand, he can most likely see me from his place. I need to get blinds. I head back to the kitchen, though I leave the balcony door open a fraction to let in some air.

I place the mug on the counter and head into my room to change. Beside my make-do bed, both my suitcases lie open with a mixture of clean and dirty laundry scattered around them. I need to do my laundry as well. Dropping on my knees on the bed, I crawl over my crinkled covers to the mess of clothes. One of the main things I hate about the heat, is my lack of 'summer fitting' clothes. Almost every day I'm wearing the same pair of jeans, just switching up the shirts I wear. The jeans aren't really the problem, it's the shirts; they're either too heavy, too short, too transparent of too revealing or too tight. It's practically impossible to find anything for the warm weather that suits the heat and my religion.