The Year of You (on hold)

chapter 9

Nearly a month had passed since the accident. A month of healing, a month of silence. The only time I got close to Nabeel was when I had to change his bandages and eventually, his cuts healed. I tried my best to stay out of his way. Every day, he got busier and busier, attending phone calls and writing cheques. People from his office came as often as 6 days a week. He had one day which I assumed was supposed to be his day off, though he spent those on his laptop, clacking away at the keys with one hand, with an invisible DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging above his study. I cooked, and fed him and his colleagues. His health had improved and he was able to walk without tiring as fast. The doctors had said it would take about 3-4 weeks before Nabeel could actually go back to work but that didn't stop him from working from home. How he managed to stay occupied was beyond me. Each morning, I helped him button his shirts silently. He couldn't do much with a broken arm. I spent my days, taking long strolls in the garden, tending to the beautiful vibrant springtime orange lillies and tulips, white roses, and cactus plants. I spoke to them of my lonliness, which only added to the feeling. I spent my evenings in any one of the empty rooms, flipping pages of books that I may have read over a hundred times. I reread Khaled Hosseni's "The Kite Runner" at least 2 times in that month. I couldn't do away with boredom easily, and it's also one of my most favorite books. I spoke with my family once a week. When it rained, I spent hours , roaming the empty halls like a ghost, sitting in my and Nabeel's bedroom staring at the blank televison screen, standing in the balcony letting my hair catch raindrops and blow wildly with the wind. Nabeel and his colleagues held their meetings in one of the sitting rooms on the first floor, they came and went and only Nabeel had knowledge of who they were. He did introduce me but I'm assuming he only invited a select few to our wedding, since I received a few glares, mostly from his attractive female colleagues. I tried my best to stick to myself and speak to Nabeel as little as possible, making sure to pretend to fall asleep before he came into the room or entering long after his snores bore into the next room over. He wants it this way, I kept telling myself. We ate no meals together and spent no time together. He did his thing, and I did mine. Whenever our families visited, exactly 3 times, we acted normal, as though no distance was between us but if I ever passed him in the hallway, I made sure to avert my eyes and lower my head. I had hoped to blend into the surroundings, become a part of the house that became my best and only friend. Until one day, as I was passing through the hall from the dining room to the kitchen, long after Nabeels colleagues had left. I was clearing the table and taking all the plates and remaining food on a little trolley when Nabeel grabbed my arm.

Alarmed, I stopped what I was doing and turned to face him. I had almost forgotten how tall he was, as he now stood towering over me. His still broken arm lay lifeless in his sling. I couldn't look at his face. "Muneerah?" He had said my name like a question, like he didn't know it was me. "Are you okay?" His question seemed so genuine and I brought myself to look in his eyes. Dark and deep, somewhere in between closed off and inviting. I searched his face for my answer. The dark rings under his eyes had almost faded completely. My eyes lingered for a moment on his lips, which had once been pressed onto my own, now tightly pursed. Was I okay? Yes, I was. "Why wouldn't I be?" I said, but my voice was low and my eyes darted from his eyes to his hand, which was still holding my arm tightly. He loosened his grip and shook his head, as though he assumed otherwise. His eyes wandered my face, and he also seemed to be searching for an answer. But I too, had been getting better at hiding what I was feeling."You seem off, distant." He said after a while, leaning against the wall on his good shoulder. I stared at the ceiling behind him, and back at him. "I'm okay." I said in a flat voice. He stared at me as though he'd wanted to hear more, but I lowered my gaze and stared at the floor. He checked his watch and said it was getting late, that I should get some rest. I told him I had work to do and dismissed myself. He shuffled past me and went to our bedroom, where I later found him snoring away in the darkness.