Breaking Point

5

Chapter 5

I woke up the following morning, and for one blissful morning, I couldn't remember anything. I felt warm, if a little sore, and groaned as I stretched and yawned into my pillow. Looking over to the window, I saw bright light filtering into my room and thanked Allah for weekends and no school and sleeping in. Of course, just as I blinked back the bleariness from my eyes, the entirety of my life came rushing back to me.

Breakfast was awkward, to say the least. Salma was in the kitchen, frying something and my mother was seated at the table, sipping a cup of tea. She greeted me as I sat down but the tension in the room was so thick, I felt like I was choking. Salma and my mother pointedly did not look at each other and so I was left to break the ice.

"Are you, like, actually cooking?" I asked Salma, watching her shrink back from flying, hot oil. She scowled at me and finished up, bringing over a plate of omelette and setting it upon the table.

"I can cook." She sniffed. "Cooking is my calling."

I took a bite out of her omelette and cringed as I heard the unmistakable crunch of an eggshell. "Well, let it go to voicemail."

"At least I try new things." She huffed.

My mother looked up at this and snorted, but turned back to the magazine she is reading and decided not to break the cold shoulder she was giving her daughter. I decided to change the subject before she changed her mind.

"Well, anyway." I said. "Mum, today I'm going over to a friend's house."

My mother raised a brow and nodded. "Have fun, habibi."

"You are going out to hang with friends?" Salma asked, appalled. "Oh wait, is it with that retarded kid you've been hanging out with lately?"

I looked at Salma, disgusted. "What do you mean retarded?"

"I heard he has autism."

"And you believe that?"

"Plus, I heard he sleeps with teddy bears."

"Woah, says the girl who pissed her pants in eighth grade."

"That was one time!"

"Okay, that's enough." My mother interjected and turned to me before I could recall the incident in more greater details. "I'm heading out to run errands. Be home by 10."

I nodded and Salma went back to picking at her breakfast. My mother got up after a few moments and I listened to her get ready and answer a phone call while she rummaged around her purse for keys. I waited until I heard the door open and close, and listened for the car to back out of the driveway, before turning to Salma, hesitantly.

"So...why?" I don't even know how to ask, but I did anyway.

Salma was silent for a moment, chewing her food. She turned to me, indifferent, and I have to wonder if she really doesn't care about our mother being upset with her or taking off her hijab like it was no big deal. I realised that she had changed so much, the past few months, and it was like I was blinking out of a stupor and seeing her for the first time.

"Is it so hard to believe that I want to fit in?" She asked.

I supposed not. She was human after all, and if she didn't care about standing out before, things could change. I considered her words.

"So...do you feel like you fit in, now?"

She opened her mouth but closes it before she can say anything. She just nodded.