The Essence of Noah (Muslim story)

Floor

I didn't sleep much. I couldn't. Every time I would allow my eyelids to cover my darting pupils, it was like a cinema screening of my encounter with Noah, would start replaying. It was beginning to frustrate me. I didn't know what was making me more restless- embarrassing myself when he told me he is a convert or my dying curiosity that has my mind on overdrive trying to fabricate the rest of his story.

Never, I would never have guessed Noah would be a convert. He just didn't seem like one. He doesn't seem like one. Then again, I have no idea what the defining characteristics of a Muslim convert are. A beard? A scarf? Saying al salamu ailaikum? Evan says that and he is most definitely not a Muslim.

Sighing, I turn to my side, the metal bed frame squeaking slightly as I do. Are a beard, or scarf the only defining characteristics of a Muslim? I find myself racking my brain for more, but other than the stereotypical descriptions flooded on mass media, I have nothing. I can't think of anything that Muslims are, so instead I try to list the features of other religions. Christians for example; some wear crosses on their necklaces, and almost all of them swear in the name of Christ. My eyebrows knit as I try to think of more, but again I can't. That's all I notice, all I know about them. I only know what I see every day, but frankly, if I was to walk down the street I wouldn't be able to tell anyone apart based on their beliefs. It's comforting almost, knowing that I don't know more about other religions than my own.                                                            Getting out of bed I grab a change of clothes for the day and head to the bathroom. The tiles feel cool and sting slightly against my warm soles, as I stand and place my clothes on the thin rack. I glance in the mirror, inspecting the light shadows beneath my eyes and the redness around my nose. My forehead and cheeks are sticky with sweat, making a few stray hairs stick to them. I am so done with summer.

~*~

"They're melting, hurry up." I huff out a laugh as I walk breathlessly from campus back to my apartment. My phone is glued partly to my scarf and my cheek and Evan continues to pester me at my slow speed.

"I'm nearly there." My voice comes out in croaky pants, as the hot air dries the saliva in my mouth.

"I'm not kidding, the box is melting in my hands." I shake my head, smiling to myself as I approach my apartment building. Sure enough my car is parked along the curb, and I can just image Evan leaning against my door, with the box of Cornetto's melting into a sickly sweet mess in his hands.

"I'm climbing the stairs." I hear a ruffle through the line, then-

"I don't see you." I roll my eyes and sigh as I take the steps a little faster, feeling a sharp pull at the side of my waist. I tilt my head up to see Evan leaning against the top of the stair case looking down at me. He brings the phone down and hangs up as I pull myself up the stairs in a sweating and panting mess.

"Hey." I say as I take out my keys and unlock the door.

"Hey yourself." Evan replies, walking over the flat boxes and straight to the kitchen. "When's your recycling day?"

"Wednesday." I drop my bag in the living space and walk to the kitchen for a glass of water.

"Do you plan on taking those boxes out?" He places the Cornetto's in the freezer.

"Eventually." Evan scoffs as I wait for the water coming from the cold tap to actually turn cold before filling my glass.

"You know, Melbourne water is softer than Adelaide's." I glance at him, quirking my brow at his random fact input.

"Where do you even get this from?" I fill up my cup though leave the tap running as Evan places his hand beneath it.

"It has less minerals in it." He ducks his head, to drink straight from the tap, his nose and front of his hair getting drenched. "It tastes different." He stands, wiping the droplets of water from his chin.