The Juju Lady Next Door (Completed)

Part III: Her Struggle

10. Hello Pain.

" And certainly, we shall test you with something of fear: hunger, loss of wealth, lives and fruits, but give glad tidings to As-Sabirun (The Patient)."

"Who, when afflicted with calamity, says: Truly to Allah we belong, and to Him we shall return!" (Q. 2: 155 & 156)"

...

Three weeks later

My life has always been simple: not much hassle or drama. Whether as a young lady or a married woman, I always tried to maintain that balance, of peace of mind and happiness, no matter the situation. But with Salsabil, I realized what people call 'Sunshine in rain.'

She was a breath of fresh air, with her innocent, graceful and sweet cadence. One couldn't help but love her. In her, I found a sister: a friend, a partner and most of all, my fears of her turning into a witch overnight disintegrated, as she was nothing but a warm and refreshing addition to our household.

Isma'il tried his best to attend to our needs. I saluted his efforts and active engagement in our nightly banters. It brought us closer in ways than ever before. It became a ritual for us to turn off the TV at 9 p.m. sharp, then one of us tells a story or a funny and wild experience.

One night stood out like a bright moon amid twinkling stars. Till today, it remains one of the most memorable, not only because of the hilarious tale Salsabil told us that got us falling off our chairs and rolling around in laughter but also because of the horrifying event that took place afterwards.

After the rib-cracking tale, Salsabil lamented that she was thirsty and so were we, for I was sure my throat was as dry as desert sand.

On my way into the kitchen to get to the fridge, I didn't notice the trail of water on the white tiled floor till I slipped and fell, twisting my right leg backwards like a bent iron rod, while my left leg laid straight and limp. But that wasn't where the stinging pain was; the sight that got me screaming like a banshee was the blood trickling down my legs.

I wasn't conscious when Isma'il and Salsabil rushed me to the hospital, neither did I recall being wheeled into the emergency ward, or that we were lucky to have been attended to, even though Isma'il had forgotten my hospital card.

But I was awake when Isma'il, in a broken voice, informed Salsabil about my condition: I was three weeks pregnant but I had lost the baby.

That night, as the cold wind slapped my closed window with dust and pebbles, pulling the air into a trance while light showers played an on-and-off song, silence visited me, wrapping its arms around my still body. And I welcomed it, for It understood me. It knew there was no room to cry, think or wonder...why me?

It also knew that the baby wasn't the only loss, a part of me was also gone, that happy, carefree part. The one that believed in life, in hope.

Now, in its place, was a hole: small, like the poke of a sewing needle into a fabric; Painful, like a stab of the needle into the skin, a hole in my heart. With what do I fill it?