Shards Of Glass

3. Con-Artist | Ayaan

* L O N D O N *

“Tamara will you SHUT UP?" I roared. Not realising the near outburst I had, Tamara kept on yodelling the lyrics of Echame La Culpa through her earphones. Maddened at her mindlessness I pulled the wires from her iPod, not able to bear her torn voice anymore.

"Better," I said before starting the ignition of my Audi.

Still registering what had happened, Tamara questioned hesitantly,
"Uh...hey you sure about the race?"

"Positive" I said, the remark laced with the determination I was feeling.

"Really?" Tamara's expressions changed from that of uncertainty to those of anger, "You told me you were broke af."

Having earned a smack on the shoulder from her, a mischievous image crossed my mind.
I faked an exaggerated jerk with the steering and exclaimed,"Bloody Hell!" as if my baby had actually slipped outta my grip and purposely nudged the car.
I could see Tamara quaking with anger if not with the skidding. With the car meandering on the road like corn in a shovel, and Tamara practically bouncing of her seat and jolting with each turn of the car that was intended to be swift enough make her bang her head on the two doors, it could be be said that the only thing uncontrollable here were my fits of laughter.

"You fucking piece of shit!" Tamara yelled frantically, pausing her screams to potentially cuss at me "Ayaan you—Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhh" she resumed,"Fucking Con-artist Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhh" This continued all the way to her home.

The car halted at the doorstep of condo. She stepped out almost immediately, struggling to walk straight as she held her head with her hands.

Her butler approached her hurriedly, "Ma'am are you feeling okay?" Joshua inquired, grabbing her by the shoulders "You look like you stepped off a rollercoaster ride you didn't like" And at that I couldn't help myself and collapsed into a convulsion. She turned to glare at me but it wasn't piercing or anything. In fact now that I think about it she reminded me of someone I knew, what was it again?? Yea. Aa--yat? Her name was Ayat.
Bad histories with that girl…

I don't even want to remember the last time I saw her, but the memory never leaves me alone. It all happened in Gilgit, at Zahid chacha's lodge.

~°~
“Annie will you pass me the super glue please?”, my twelve-year old self requested. “Here,” she said handing me the tube. She sat on the deconstructed ottoman, scrutinising everything I did. I opened the cover and the liquid splashed out, over my sneakers making my hands shake. Thank God it wasn't my hands.
“Wait. Let me help you” she said as she held my hand and squeezed out the bubbly substance onto the board, smiling, so warmly it tickled.
I stared at her in amazement.
She snapped her fingers infront of my face making me reach the other board behind her and placing it on the one glued before.
I sat on it for a while, “Perfect! Now all we need are ropes ” I said proudly, giving myself a pat on the back for this amazing carpentery, that would definitely make Baba proud.
Searching the racks of the outhouse, my eyes landed on her, fiddling with the holes in the board.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I'll fall Ayaan” she whispered. Constructing an unpleasant scene in my mind, I cringed at the thought of her falling of the swing.
“Stop whining. You're just scared” I responded.
“No. I'm not dumb” she shook head over the prospect of stupidity, “The glue's not strong enough” she blurted, her thick long eyelashes fluttering.
“Yes it is Annie! ” I shouted.
“ No it's not” she shouted back. I stormed to grab the tube, my hard grasp, spilling out its contents over my hand. She started laughing with hysteria, having witnessed the mess I made. But it made my blood boil.
“It's stuck” she giggled.
I managed to remove my hand from the tube with all the force I could yield, but it backfired, uncomprehensibly.
And before I knew it my hand was glued to her jaw.
We started screaming and hollering, running towards the barbeque party, where everyone was.
She was crying, I realized it was hurting her, each time I tried retrieving my hand. My face grew pale and my heart sank, watching her like this. Tears pooled around her eyes, as she scrunched her face in pain, while some little drops landed on my hands, drenching them in everything that was my fault.
My first encounter with guilt in years. Soon we were approached by all the adults who crowded around us trying to make sense of what was before them. I saw everyone try to remove my hand but she'd start to scream each time. Baba came and took us to his cabin. Where we had to sit infront of the fireplace the whole night because of the ice he packed around my hand and her jaw.
“The acetone in this polish isn't working” he said, flustered by the vain rubbing of the liquid he borrowed from my mother.
She didn't say a word.
The whole fucking time.
By nightfall the only sounds heard were distant chattering coming from the backyard, where everyone probably gathered for some good time around the fire pit and her soft puffs of breath as she fell asleep in my hand a while ago.
I stared at her like a freak the whole night.
She shivered in her sleep and I had to cover her with my arms, since moving even the slightest to reach for the quilt would wake her up. I sat like that the whole night, cautiously watching my hand, not wanting it to jerk her out of her sleep.
~°~