Tangled Dreams

CHAPTER 4: EVERYTHING ABOUT HER (Part 3) | Khalid Khairuddin

Before leaving London for my next flight assignment the next day, I contacted Athirah. I invited her for a meal as I was not sure when I would be back in London again. I wanted to hear her voice, her laments from the heart. I wanted to see her face, her facial expressions when she laughed. I wanted to capture as many memories as possible of her, for my daydreams while far away from her.

However, she said that she was busy.

I did not believe her. Athirah was not busy, she was anxious. She was nervous. She was trying her best not to panic. I knew all this because her voice was momentarily high-pitched, then low-pitched – like ripples without direction. The words thrown at me fluctuated between andante and allegro. Athirah was not busy, she was experiencing an anxiety attack because she was going to be interviewed by a prominent journalist called Faez Ibrahim, who was a London-based journalist representing Malaysian news publications.

Athirah did not hate the media. She merely did not like facing them. She considered them a cause of personal agitation; they made her feel uneasy and often caused her to be at a loss for words. She preferred interviews to be conducted via e-mail. There was no need to meet face to face. Only written words were necessary where she had time to consider each one that was to be shared with the media.

I hung up and contemplated my next move. It would be six more hours before the airline's van came for me. My flight was scheduled to leave in the evening. I still had time to go out.

The journey to Athirah's office at Oxford Street would take only 20 minutes, or at most 30 minutes if the bus were late. I calculated that I still had time to meet her before her interview began. I grabbed my heavy jacket and rushed out of the Holiday Villa hotel towards the bus stop along Bayswater Road.

When I arrived at Athirah's office, I noticed that Faez Ibrahim was already seated in the reception area. I threw a sweet smile at the receptionist and asked to see Athirah. She shook her head. Athirah had left instructions not to be disturbed by anyone this morning except the journalist. I wanted to snap back: I'm not just anyone, I'm Khalid. Khalid who can help her. The littlest of sighs escaped from deep within my disappointed self.

I took a seat beside Faez. My eyes were focused on the door of Athirah's office. I hoped the door would open and Athirah would appear. I wanted to tell her that I was here; I would always be with her when she needed support. But the door remained closed. Only silence pervaded.

"Where's the photographer?" I asked nonchalantly. Faez rubbed his chin. I continued, "Surely you're not interviewing the empress of Oxford Street without a photographer? She deserves more than that."

"Mr... uhh..."

"Khalid."

"Okay, Mr Khalid. With all due respect, I know what needs to be done. With today's technology, high-quality photographs can be taken using an iPhone. Anyway, Ms Athirah had instructed me not to bring a photographer to her office. She said that she'd be nervous if there were cameras in front of her. Furthermore, Ms Athirah already emailed her photographs to me earlier this morning," he clarified at length.

I nodded. I was dumbstruck.

At precisely 10:00 am, Athirah's office door opened. She looked elegant wearing black slacks matched with a pink blouse and matching jacket. She was a stylish career woman.

Athirah flashed a smile at Faez, a smile which vaporised the second she noticed me. For a split second, her composure slipped and she looked muddled. Then, she turned to Faez again. Athirah invited the journalist into her office. I got up and followed suit, but was stopped by Athirah at the door.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"I want to keep you company. I heard that if there is someone at your side, it is less nerve-wracking. Fewer slips of the tongue. Additionally, I can be a witness if he twists your words in the newspaper article later..." I gave my reasons why I should join them, but Athirah cut short my explanation.

"Please wait outside," Athirah said firmly. I sighed softly before turning back towards the sofa in the reception area.

"Why don't you come in and join us, Mr Khalid? I don't mind. I'm sure we'll get the story. Anyway, it's not proper for just Ms Athirah and me to be here together," elaborated Faez, who suddenly appeared from behind Athirah inviting me in. Before she could think of any further excuses to chase me off, I quickly slid into her office.