Chapter 9 Rodrigo's P.O.V.
When a person becomes a Muslim his/her deeds are washed clean and they become as pure as the day their mother gave birth to them.
I dived into the heated swimming pool. The chemicals stung my eyes. I should have brought a pair of goggles. I usually use them only when I go swimming in the sea. I love swimming, there's so much wonder and mystery in the way the waves move. I could lay here doing backstroke watching the clouds all day. But I can't do that today I've decided to clean the house, and when I say clean I mean take everything out.
After I swam my usual thirteen laps, I went for a shower. Luckily my hair is short so I just have to towel dry it. The temperature outside had dropped. Nuriyah dislikes weather like this. But then she'd say something about it her chance to wear her favorite pair of boots. I love that chica.
I went to the hardware store and bought some tools, as I was about to leave, a can of paint caught my eye. I immediately went to get a closer look.
'Tuscan blue' it read.
Why not do some painting while I'm at it? I picked it up and went to the till to pay.
"Beautiful choice. What is it for?" The cashier rung it up asked.
"I don't know yet," I added another fifty euros to the cash I'd already put on the counter. She took the cash and put it in the till she then handed me some change as she did our eyes met and the kind expression on her face melted away.
"Have we met before?" I asked, trying to break her stare.
"No. It's just that you look like someone I once, briefly, knew," she said quickly, plastering a fake smile on her face.
Strange.
After putting the stuff I bought in the back of my truck, I got into the driver's seat and before turning on the car, I pressed play on the Ipod Nuriyah had given me and the beautiful recitation I was listening to carried on. I take this iPod almost everywhere I go.
Nuriyah's P.O.V.
My heart said welcome home as I entered the gallery.
I was back in Barcelona for bridal Fashion week.
"Olla," I greeted Rodrigo's papa.
"Olla, what a nice surprise. You're here to see Rodrigo, aren't you?" he asked.
"Si, but I see he's not here. Do you mind if I wait?"
"Nuriyah, you're always welcome. Of course I don't mind," he said, pulling up a stool at the kitchen counter for me.
"Gracias," I said, sitting down.
This place hasn't changed a bit. A black and white cat crawled out from under the couch. She looked at me and I don't know what she saw in me that made her decide to jump on my lap.
"So, how have you been?" I asked Rodrigo's papa.
"I'm good. How is New York?" he asked.
"It's amazing," I replied.
"And Vogue?" He asks.
"I don't work there. I work at Fortaleza," I replied, fighting the urge to stroke the cat's fur.
"Isn't that the famous franchise owned by that woman Layla?"
"Yes. She started her own magazine."
"Interesting."
The cat was now sleeping cuddled against my tummy. I didn't want to move, scared I might wake her up. Then suddenly, Sara came out of my old room. Making me jump as she slammed the door behind her, the cat jolted awake by my movement. Lucky they land on all four paws, she gave me a dirty look and bolted, hiding under the couch, poor thing.
"You!" exclaimed Sara.
"Olla. Long time no see," I said, surprisingly calm.
"How long are you going to be here? I need to know if I'm going to be confined to my room," she said, death staring at me through those fake contact lenses.
"Sara"! He papa snapped.
"Whatever," she rolled her eyes. Turning on her high heels she flipped her fake hair and went back to her room. I guess that's also another thing that won't change even if I left and came back after ten years.
I heard the sounds of boots against the steps of the stairs, minutes later Rodrigo appeared his hands full of stuff. I got up and went to help him.
"Jazakallah" he thanked me.
The packets were full of cleaning products.
"What are they for?" I asked.
"I'll tell you about it later," he replied.
-
"Sorry about Sara," he said, sitting down next to me.
"It's okay, I'm used to it. You know, there was a time when people were sorry I met you..." I said, putting a hand under my chin, watching him.
Gosh, he's so beautiful. I've always thought of him as someone out of time, from another world, never mind another century.
"And now?" he asked, bringing me back.
"I used to be sorry, now I'm grateful. What about you? Do you feel sorry we met?"
"Sorry about how we met but never sorry we did. The other day, I went home for the first time in maybe a year."
"And?"
"I went to my old room and hated it because it reminded me of who I was before I met you."
"We all have an achilles heel. You smell of chlorine, did you go swimming today?" I asked.
"Si, you should come with me sometime," there was a double meaning to that suggestion, for sure.
"One day," I replied.
My stomach growled loudly. Oh crab, how embarrassing.
"Sounds like someone's hungry, want to get something to eat? We can go to Lena's if you want?"
I looked away as an anxious feeling started clawing its way through me.
"Are you still avoiding her?" he asked, gently turning my face to look at his.
"I have a better idea, why don't you cook me something?" I suggested, trying my luck.
"Here's an even better idea, I'll cook for you something if you tell me what's going on with you and Lena, deal?"
"Deal! Like I'm ever going to turn down your cooking," I said with a smirk.
"I love you," I said. It was such a short sentence yet it held the weight of iron, a sentence so heavy yet so fragile.
"I love you too. And I've been thinking about us lately."
"Exactly what about us have you been thinking about?"
Rodrigo was about to reply when the familiar sound of the gallery's landline ringing interrupted him.
Moments later, Sara came into the room. More like barged in.
"Don't you ever knock?!" Rodrigo said, sending a death glare his sister's way but her face didn't change.
"It's for her," she said, handing the phone to Rodrigo. Her voice filled with something. Something I hadn't heard from her before. Pity.
My poor heart, its beat beginning to feel like thunder inside my chest hearing the distressed voice of my mama on the other line.
More heart ache then came realizing that the invisible thread between Aslam's heart and mine had been torn apart.
