Carried by the Wind

Chapter 4

It was Friday morning when I found Mrs. Ali lifeless in her apartment. It was the first time I had seen someone dead. She looked so peaceful in her wheelchair, hands hanging off the armrests like she was asleep. The same woman who had slapped me with such power just a day ago now sat inanimate. Head on her chest, eyes closed. I closed my eyes, my heartbeat thumping loudly in my ears like a drum, thump, thump, thump. I saw red. The skin behind my eyelids flashed red and white. I swallowed bile, the halogen light in the ceiling was spinning. I sat down, legs to one side. My hand slid over Mrs. Ali's hand and grabbed the cold fingers. The door opened.

"Ayeeyo!" Came a cry behind me. I stood up quick. The blood came to my brain fast enough to make my head spin. It was Iman, Mrs. Ali's granddaughter. "What did you do?" She demanded. We had only met briefly before, exchanged hello's when she came by to see her grandmother every week.

I shook my head, my mouth hanging open like a fool.

"What did you do?!" Iman pushed me, screaming. I stumbled a few steps backwards.

"I-I...", I stammered.

Iman fell to her grandmother's side, crying loudly with stifled hiccups.

I put my hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry." That's when I saw the that wound on Mrs. Ali's neck was fresh. I swallowed hard. There was a sensation in my stomach, like hunger, like a thirst, beckoning. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry", I kept repeating, at a loss for words. How I wished someone would save me, that I could faint and not see the end of this, that I could disappear.

The moments after were a blur. I told Mom that I couldn't work, unchained the bicycle, let my legs work, left, right, left, right, lactic acid. A cigarette at my lips, the fumes blending into the cold spring mist. I came to when I was chaining the bicycle outside the apartment. My work slippers clapped against the stairs as I ran up. Farid was sitting in the sofa, the back of his head with the black crop of hair contrasting against the glare of the television screen. Right. I had completely forgotten about him. I halted in the hallway, expecting him to turn around. His neck muscles strained as he perked up, but he didn't move.

"Salam", I said loudly.

Farid turned his head and shot me a warm smile. "Salam Elika. Are you well?" he said.

I forced a smile in return and took my shoes off. The phone in my pocket vibrated. It was Annette messaging. "I PASSED!" followed by a row of happy emoticons. "I GOT THE INTERNSHIP!" Another row of smileys. "I'M PREGNANT!" and then a horrified emoticon modeled after Edvard Munch's Scream.

"What?" I texted back. I slid out of my coat and went to my bedroom, ignoring Farid. He glanced at me before turning back to the television.

Dialing Annette's number led to her voicemail. "I'm with Oliver. Will call later", she wrote back.

"Who?" I typed, my fingers slipping over the screen. It was like someone else was doing all I was doing.

"It's his", showed up on the phone screen with an accompanying pling.

"Oliver?!"

"I'm pretty sure", Annette replied.

I sank down on the floor. How had I missed it? I scratched my head.

A gentle tap on the door pulled me back to the moment. "Elika?" came Farid's voice.

"Come in", I said and got up.

"Has something happened?" he asked tentatively.

"No, no, why?" I avoided his inquisitive yellow eyes. His eyelashes threw shade over his fine boned cheeks.