Awaited Redemption

Monday

Monday

Aarifah

I am late. So late.

I speed walked across the furnished corridors, and almost sprinted in the end to reach Mr.Woods class.

There was no one in there, so I waited. My clock read 4:30pm.

Where was he? He sould've been here by now.

I checked the time again 4:37pm.

I have other things waiting for me as well, but who was I kidding? I knew that this was important. I have to understand the meaning behind this before he bombard us with another assignment.

I paced the length of the room in front of his desk. This class reminded me of the Coliseum that was in Rome. No. Every class in this university reminded me of the Coliseum. The set of chairs, the cheers that went up if something funny happens. In their opinion.

But the only difference here was that the one sitting on the seats are the one that go through the torture, instead of the one that stood in the middle.

But in both cases, the middle one plays the role of an entertainer. Even though sometimes that entertainer lose its touch, and bore us all to sleep.

The thought of the Coliseum made goosebumps erupt on my arms, and made me shiver that had nothing to do with the dropping temperature of Canada, but it wasn't any much of a help either.

I kept pacing, and kept checking the time.

But when my wrist watch showed that it was 5:00pm. I turned, and walked straight out the door.

Frustration setting my skin on fire. I took some turns, and found myself in the girls' bathroom. I splashed some cold water on my face, to calm myself down.

I dried my face with a few paper towels, and fixed the scarf that was slipping from my head.

As I exited the bathroom, a familiar voice poured out of my phone.

Adhan. Prayer call.

I reached inside my coat pocket and retrieved my phone.

It was Asr time.

I let out a heavy breath. My heart constricted inside my chest.

Making it hard to breath through the guilt that now weighed my shoulders down.

I started walking down the hall, but now only one thought kept bouncing of the contours of my mind.

I missed my Dhur prayer. Again.

Walid

I underlined the definition, and closed the book.

As soon as I did that, I heard my name. The voice that was calling it out was as familiar to me as if my own.

I sprinted out of the room. The voice was coming from the kitchen as always.

I entered the kitchen, and what I saw made me want to either laugh with joy, or weep in agony.

The floor was covered in flour, the counter was splattered with bits and pieces of vegetables, the dishes in the sink were about to overflow, the pan on the stove was about to fall on the floor, and the lunch that was currently sitting on the burning stove was burnt and if not for my quick reflexes, was about to go up in flames.

"Walid! See what happened? I was just trying to cook something good for you! I didn't mean for all of this to happen. I know how much you used to love my cooking. I was just trying to do it again, and then this." She said frantically. All in one breath. My mother, who was standing in the middle of this chaos, trying to justify her actions. And to who?