UNORTHODOX

Am I Sorry (Chapter 18)

Let me... let me interject.

When I said 'And that was the last time I saw Ni' I was being...I was being overdramatic. It was not, in actual fact, the last time I saw Ni Bow Jung. It was just – the last time I saw Ni Bow Jung. By this I mean the Ni Bow Jung I knew, the playful, backhandedly kind, often considerate Ni Bow Jung. It was the last time I saw him.

 I just . . . Anyway-

When he leaves, when Ni leaves my field of vision, the world falls silent. The gasps of the assistants, Mortisha's wolf whistle, Carlos's sharp intake of breath, each isolated sound is not a sound, its silence. The silence doesn't bother me. To silence I could adjust. What bothers me and what I can't adjust to is the look on Ni's face. Why did he look like that? What was the expression he'd worn and I couldn't name. Why had his lips quivered? Why had his eyes glistened? Why, why was the world silent?

'Al Habibi'.... 'Mywa'... 'Al Habibi you mean the world to me' 'My closest friend'                                           Did he− 'You look beautiful' 'I want to do these things with my wife and I was hoping you'd be her' Was he . . . As far as women go you're my ideal type and the one I admire the most.' 'I want to stay by your side.' Did Ni really⎯ 'I love you Mywa Al Habibi and no matter what you do or say I'll never stop loving you.'

I replay the looks, the compliments, the smiles and teasing words. The coy glances, his face when I'd stepped out of the dressing room and a series of our prior conversations. Ni Bow Jung− I think Ni... Ni Bow Jung loved me, and not in the platonic let's be friends way but in the awe consuming husband loves his wife way. In distilling clarity it becomes clear. Ni Bow Jung loved me − and I had hurt him.

Having put things into perspective, I'm slowly made aware of my surroundings. I'm made aware of Carlos and Mortisha, who stand in their respective orbits of silence. I'm made aware of the sales assistants, lurking, avoiding my gaze. I'm made aware of the sky's colour, which had aged the day into night and of all the trinkets, pictures and materials littering the room, reminders that this establishment was used for those in love. I'm made aware of many things, many things including the fact that this is what he deserved.

Bracing my body, I pick the bottom half of my dress, turn⎯⎯ and run. I run past Mortisha whose eyes widen in shock. I run past Carlos who, still stunned, stood immobilised. I run past the two now frantic sales assistants, who worry and fret over the dress. I dodge two more assistants, the receptionist who screams at me to stop and run through the entrance out on to the streets into the oncoming rain. I run hard and I run fast, taking no notice of the dress dragging against the now wet floor, paying no attention to those passing me, pushing harder when Ni comes into view.