Copyright © 2020 Rubab Masuri. All Rights Reserved.
December 19, 2016
[05:58 AM, 19/12/2016] Adam: Have you kept them waiting on purpose?
[06:02 AM, 19/12/2016] Penny: I can't say.
[06:05 AM, 19/12/2016] Adam: Did you reschedule?
[06:10 AM, 19/12/2016] Penny: Airborne.
I catch a breath as I take my seat next to Rafae after shoving our handbags into the upper compartment, which I had to put up a fight for because the lady behind us took up all our space. I stare at my phone, thinking about what to do when one of the cabin crew asks me to switch off my phone as we prepare to take off. So conveniently, I do.
After getting back home and to our usual routines. Rafae spends the day at his store and I, with the housekeeping. Whenever I return from a long trip, I feel bad about leaving my house. Like it gets sick without me looking after it. Like a child neglected. I like spending time here, and I like to take care of it because it's so meditative -fixing the curtains and the cushions on the sofa, folding laundry and stacking pots and plates properly. Most people don't realize the effort it goes into maintaining a house. I am not wasting time if that is what they all think. I am just very organized, hence have (more than) enough time to myself, which in itself is a crime for the time-waste-management police. To personify absolute productivity, one must appear sleepless, give up leisure, and their faces should manifest havoc (I think I may pass for this one).
"Tell me something," I ask the housekeeping lady. "How do you make other people respect you?"
The mop in her hand halts and she takes a pause to scan my face as if to guesstimate if this is by any way ridicule. Seeing my genuine interrogative expression comes her apt reply. "Make yourself scarce."
She has a point. Which reminds me, I have to make a call.
I am searching for the business card I took from Kabir at the open mic that I have kept God knows where. After ruffling through my handbag, banging drawers and squeezing my eyes shut to conjure memory from my mind's eye, I take a deep breath and start looking methodically. Starting from my handbag, going through my wallet, and moving on to all other areas of doubt.
I take my ringing phone; it's Adam, asking me about the 'status.' There is no status right now, but I sure don't want to tell him that. I start by mentioning that I would embrace the new capsule wardrobe trend because clearly, there is no use for all these things in my cupboard right? But Adam cuts to the chase and asks me if I forgot to reschedule?
"Does he keep calling for me?"
"Who?"
"The eyebrow plucker,"
"Why would he do that?"
"Then why do you keep asking about the 'status'?
"Because I doubt you called them."
"Why doubt me?"
"You forget things all the time,"
"I would never forget something like this."
"Right,"
"Okay. What am I missing?"
"You tell me."
"Argh! Stop the bush thingy Adam,"
"You forgot his card on the table."
I did?
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Four Broken Strings
ChickLitMusic artist Penny knows all about her bass. A cynic, in a little too perfect but almost boring life with a constantly absentee husband. Her life takes a twist when she lands herself a wonderful opportunity at a studio that allows her to breathe out...
