Bring Her Home

Nura

The first eight weeks after her husband's passing and funeral, Nura has been on a non-stop cycle of closing out his accounts, taking care of his personal effects, and otherwise has had little time to mourn. Her only solace was sleep, as unconsciousness had given her a break from the pain—an ephemeral relief. But for the past few days, her recurring dreams had denied her any proper sleep. Nura would awake feeling sore all over, as though someone was firmly shaking her bed.

Eyes wide open, Nura was swallowed whole by the darkness of her room. She rolled out of bed, groaning when her left hip hit the desk chair, and felt her way to the ornate lavender curtains. While Nura watched the unfamiliar faces carry on with their lives, no one knew that hers, had just ended.

She could see the bright-coloured fruit cart, picking up its speed as the vendor toiled the donkey away, and slowed down at the bend, a screech of brakes heard as it stopped a couple of yards from her house. All the blocks of flats were spread side by side, grey and cold, waiting for a touch of sunlight to rekindle them.

Occasionally, Nura would come out of her room and follow her mother on whatever daily activity she had to get done, reminiscing the days she'd have a handful of things to carry out at her own home. She was never the disorganised type to mismatch the cutlery, or leave the glassware unpolished, and rarely would you find the toothpaste tube left open. All the habits Adam had accumulated throughout their years together—the ones that would make her head hot in disagreement with him—now felt like a consolation.

Nura was pulled out of her thoughts when her mother softly tapped on the door. She entered, placing a fruit bowl on the low table where the egg toast laid untouched. She massaged her daughter's hair, her eyes almost wet for the pain her daughter was in. A pain which they all knew nothing could cure.

"Do you want baba to get you anything, anything at all on his way back from work?" her mother worried in her crispy raspy voice that hid her sorrow. Her parents had been so distraught for her, to the point where Khalid was becoming short-tempered and forgetful at the office, and Jamila experienced a loss of control. "Sweet almonds, or maybe you could busy yourself with new books? You like to stitch, shall he get you more fabric?"

Nura only wanted one thing she dared not ask her disheartened mother for. "Some cotton-linen blends would be nice." Nura surpassed her surge of emotion as she hugged her mother tight. She then took a deep breath—stilled with suspended hope—and managed a nervous smile. "I'm going to see Adam today." She ceased her breathing to take in her mother's response, or at least listen to the rumble of the speeding motorcycle engines. But all Jamila could manage in reply was 'Oh.' By the look in her daughter's face, Jamila understood that she'd wanted to go alone, and nodded her head with a smile.

Silence filled the hall, but in her head, Nura heard the most determined screams, thundering in her mind, threatening to crack her skull. Upon entering the bathroom, she wasted no time in loosening her robe, taking it off as she stepped into the shower. The water rushed out of the showerhead, causing Nura to flinch at the coldness of it. She reached forward only to retract her hand immediately when the stream thickened, rising to her aching face. It always took five minutes, at the least, for the temperature to suitably adjust. She felt alive as the cool water soothed her skin; dulling the acute pain rooted within her body.

Seizing the fluffy towel hanging on the rack, Nura took a swipe at the mirror as she covered herself. She gazed at her reflection, eager to find traces of a youthful girl that would linger in her eyes, the smile that Adam would associate with innocence. But she failed to see what he saw. The bloodshot clover-grey eyes were now defined with a heavy black crease, her pale face deflated, and the lips that were once pink and soft were now chapped and bleeding. She looked down as her fingers traced around the stretch marks on her stomach, with red vein-like tendrils seeping across the sides.

She wiped her tear-stained cheeks, trying to erase the image of what her eyes saw as they desperately roamed from one feature to another, before putting her clothes on, and wrapping her scarf over her hair. Swallowing, her mouth dry with anxiety, Nura walked out of the apartment, turning right at the end of the road, and waved down the taxi gliding by.

Until the grim hour of the burial, Nura had never thought about the last time she would see her husband. She had been planning their lives together so many times, that she knew exactly what she wanted to happen, and in what order. By the end of their several years together, she'd only imagined them—grey haired, and elderly—hand in hand with their children and grandchildren, as they were ready to say their goodbyes. But then suddenly and without warning, her dreams were shattered, as this was the curse of life; awaiting who death would take away next.

Nura settled in at her chosen spot some distance away, emptily observing the gravestone—first rays of the early afternoon sun falling on the flat, blade-like grave mark—while trying her best to hold on to her tears. She desperately clung on to her memories of Adam and her love, for that was all she had left of him. Her skin blazed beneath her dark abaya, and she wished to tear the grubby stone apart and dig Adam back out.

The image of Adam's body floating just below water surface replayed in her mind as she dug her fingers deep into her skin. She retched as she tried not to scream, knowing all too well if she were to yell, she would only end up crying. She couldn't weep; she couldn't forgive herself for letting him go—being too late to save him. There was a desperate gasp as her body starved of oxygen. It was as if there were an invisible force sucking the air from her lungs. Since when did breathing become so hard?

Feeling suffocated, Nura walked away from the burial site. She walked on until she came to a clearing. She sat down, the lurid sun soaking into her skin, reflecting a shimmer from the ends of her eyelashes—inviting her eyes to rest. The darkness only caused her stomach to pitch and threatened to expel even the tap water. Clenching her fists, she used all her concentration to pull herself back from the edge. She had no right to be feeling sick and dizzy when she was still alive and whole.

She dropped her head between her knees and curled into herself until she heard footsteps approaching, crunching leaves and cracking twigs. Nura dropped her arms from her legs and turned to look up at the silhouette blocking the sun. She gasped and jumped up. For a second, she thought she'd seen Adam. The same inky hair that would stick out in wiry, defiant abundance from the sides and back of his head. Soon, her face fell when she'd realised it was only his brother; eyes met with a cold, stern, unpitying gaze.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Hazim stood slowly with his hands on hips and eyes dark with fury. "I warned you never to let me see you again."

Nura did not lift her face up, trying her darndest not to respond. He pulled her arms and shoved at her shoulders, pushing her to the tree. "When I talk to you, you answer me." She scowled ferociously at him, receiving a scowl in return. His filthy, smelly hand nearly suffocated her when she muffed a gasp. The tormina from the past few weeks was back, and Nura hated herself for being weak in front of him.

Her voice drifted in a hushed whisper, and her breath rasped in and out. "Get off of me." Her head was spinning, and she was terrified. With her hands against his chest, she pushed with all her strength, trying to shove his body off of hers. The more she struggled, the heavier he had become. "How dare you try to stop me!"

"You have no right to see my brother after what you'd done. Leave while I'm being nice."

Nura turned her eyes upward to look at him, chin held determinedly, eyes narrowed at him with indignation. "What do you know? You never once bothered to check up on him in the past two years. Yet, now you're claiming the big brother role when it's too late!"

His eyes flamed. Straddling her, Hazim tightened his grip around her throat, pressing forcibly into her larynx. She was nearing unconsciousness when the torture stopped. He pulled at his tightened shoulders, then clawed at his hands, as he pushed her away, leaving her panting for breath. "You have, and always will be an imposter, Nura. Never let me see or hear of you again. This is my final warning for you."

A great tremor overtook her as she fell to the floor in a disintegrated heap, her lament spilling out in a flood of uncontrollable tears. Shaken up and anxious to get home and lock the rest of the world away, Nura knew it would only get worse.