Mera Hero

6. That Little Piece of Shit

"Muma, you have to eat."

I held up the spoon to her lips once again, cupping my hand underneath in case the warm contents decided to waddle off onto the carpeted floor. It didn't seem like much of a point, since it could seep through my fingers, but I guess I just did it more on instinct if anything else. She nodded her head, pushing it away. "Meri bachi (my daughter), I don't want to. I don't feel like it."

"But why muma? You need to eat--this isn't a choice," I urged, pushing the spoon towards her as another attempt, but she was not compliant "Acha meri khatir (okay, for my sake)," I cooed. She peered at me in discontent and begrudgingly took the spoon.

"I just don't feel hungry right now. I'll eat some other time."

I looked down at the bowl of oatmeal, letting a frown cast onto my face as I swirled the spoon and played around with the thick solution. "Yeah, probably when you forget about me..." There was a prolonged silence following my comment and I looked up to see my mother bearing tears in her eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Forgive me Isha. I can't even think of how it's like for you. I hate myself for always forgetting--"

"No muma," once those words had left my lips I had immediately regretted it. "It's not your fault at all. Astagfirullah. I can't even believe that I would say this." I sat down the bowl on the nightstand nearby. "This illness that you have, it just affects me sometimes. You know? I understand that I have no right to take it out on you but I can't help it. Of course it's worse for you--you have this wretched disease. For you, coping with it has to take a bigger toll. And here I am, making you feel worse."

"My time will come Isha. So will yours--it's inevitable. Who knows? Maybe my creator has sent me this illness as a way to wipe away my sins. I'll think of it as a gift just to get me through the days," my mother explained, smiling with her eyes.

I shook my head, clearly baffled at her words. Even at a time like this, she's thankful. How could my father leave such a woman? "Wow. Muma you are something else." She laughed heartily, throwing her head a little back. I was glad. At least she was able to lift the mood, even though I was the one to bring it down in the first place. If I did hurt her feelings, I doubt that was the case anymore. She must've brushed it off. But I couldn't really help it. I tried my best to keep emotions at bay, yet the harder I tried the harder it was to do just the thing. It felt like a stab in the gut when she forgot me, and I wouldn't wish for anybody to have to be in my position.

I decided to come in early today to see Muma, just before I headed off to work. Work. I still couldn't shake my mind off that horrid box of revelations from yesterday. The shock hadn't worn off until Fajr, and only then was I able to fall asleep. Hell I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared. I couldn't even leave the apartment today. I didn't even feel safe in my own home without the thought of someone watching me through the windows scorching a hole in my brain. There was a constant battle when steeping foot outside—the only thing I was interested in was looking over my shoulder every two seconds, and keeping a firm grip on the heavy-duty pepper spray sandwiched in my clammy right hand and buried in the depths of my crossbody bag. Alhumdulillah, I made it here without being abducted or killed. Even though I was dreading leaving the confines of my room, I made sure to come super early just so that I'd have at least a good 2-3 hours to spend with my mother. This is the safest I've felt since yesterday. Right here, alongside her. I really didn't want to think about anything else, even though I had a nag eating at my insides, begging me to go over to my boss and confront him about this whole ordeal, or go straight to the police station. But I pushed the thought aside.