In the Interlude

Chapter 17 - Moving Forward

"So, what do you think?" Aïcha asked Sofia. She had called her friend first thing Monday morning asking for advice on how to handle all this. Sofia was the only one who knew about Tom and Aïcha seeing each other.

"So let me see if I get this straight. The guy likes you, you like him and he wants to drive all the way to Casablanca to see you, a city of how many million people again?"

"Three point five million, give or take," Aïcha answered not hiding her annoyance.

"Right, three fricking million people at least. And you, Madame, very much single, are afraid of being seen with a guy. Hmm, I'm sorry I don't get it."

"Sofia, please," Aïcha answered with desperation in her voice. "I know it may seem stupid to you but for me, this is all new. Me having a fling, going out on dates... and with an international movie star? Can you imagine my picture plastered all over the internet?" She snapped mockingly, "Tom Hiddleston spotted with mystery brunette in the streets of Casablanca." Her throat closed at the mere thought of this happening.

"Sweetie, it's okay to feel a little overwhelmed. You've been out of the dating game for a long time now. And him being Tom Hiddleston, doesn't help. I get that. But maybe you're blowing things out of proportion? There are no paparazzi in Morocco. And you told me you also wanted to see him, so my two cents, since you asked for it? Just do it. Go somewhere nice, dance, have fun. You are a great mum, but you seem to forget you're also a woman."

After they said goodbye, Aïcha paced her home office replaying the conversation in her head. Sofia was right. Addicted to self-sabotage, she was, yet again, placing obstacles in her own path, all by herself.  It was a difficult habit to get rid of.

After the death of her husband, Aïcha had been devastated. She had lost her life partner, and with him, the sparkle that made life exciting and full of possibilities. The only reason she woke up in the morning was her daughter, trying to retain some semblance of a normal life for her.

Even if the word normal was irrevocably tainted, damaged, broken.

After a while, the pain of her loss was less intense.

But it was still there, all the time from morning to dawn in her waking hours and in her sleep.

It was still there, every day of the week, allowing no respite.

And the anger, oh the anger.

Aïcha was just angry. All. The. Time.

Angry at the universe for ripping apart Mia's life, angry with her husband for leaving them even if she knew damn well that he didn't choose to die on her.

But mostly, she was angry with herself, for being angry with her husband, for being unable to function normally, for being unable to overcome the thick fog of pain and anger and suffering she had surrounded herself with.

She could barely live one day at a time. Sometimes the prospect of slogging herself from the bed to the bathroom was exhausting. Other times, she wished she was the one who died and left this world. She was persuaded that Idriss would have been a better parent than she was.

Scraping together what little energy she had left, she had dedicated her every day to her daughter and her work. She needed the work to pay the bills but it also brought her the satisfaction of being alive, somehow. She was good at her job and her LinkedIn profile was a testament to that.

It had been three years now and meeting Tom had awakened something deep inside of her. She liked him, liked his company and liked herself when she was with him. As long as they were clear about their expectations, there was no harm in living in the moment. Or so she thought.