Thorns and Berries

Chapter Nineteen

Hameed

I had slept off quite late yesterday and that was because I was up all night watching the episodes I had missed in Grey Anatomy which I had put on a reluctant hold since I began working at the supermarket.
  
Golden rays of sunlight harshly hit my face through the  wide open glass window and I tediously peeled open my eyes, crinkling my eyes a little till it adjusted to the sharp lights. My sight locked to the wall clock for a few seconds and my eyes suddenly snapped wider in full alert. It was 9:am already and I was meant to be at work by 10:am, an hour from now.
        
"Shit!" I cursed at myself and vanished into my ensuite bathroom the next minute for a quick bath. I was already running late for work and a half part of me doubted that I would meet up with resumption time.
  
Fifteen minutes later, I was out of the bathroom and slipped into a casual pair of dark Armani shirt that clung tightly to my skin, exposing my hard muscles and abs, with a dark Nike pant to add to its simplicity. I turned to the mirror to brush my hair neat, stealing quick glances at the wall clock which showed 9:30am. I gritted my teeth together, infuriated at myself for my lack of self discipline and time management as I remembered my father had asked that I come see him for a small conversation this morning before I would go to work. I had completely forgotten about that, even though I knew the one thing my father wanted to converse with me –no doubt, about how I has been faring at my new workplace. My anger died down as a small laugh escaped from my throat.
        
"Work." I tasted the word in his mouth. "I work now." This time, I said it more in an exclamatory manner. I for once, had never imagined nor dreamt of working in my life. I was the spoilt brat of the Indimi's family and it came as a surprise to everyone including myself that I actually wanted to start working. I laughed quietly again before making to arrange my room in order. One thing my mother hated was seeing my room or any of my brother's room so disorganized or dirty.
   
A gentle knock came on my door, followed by an older feminine voice.
       
"Abdulhameed"
    
Talk about the angel.
  
My heart raced a bit as though petrified. She should not come in to meet my room in this state. It was so unpleasing to the eyes –a rough bed, a room that has not been cleaned for days now, and already amassing a funny kind of smell, not to talk of my clothes that were littered around. I had found myself unusually lazy to do simple basic things these past few days since my new job at Shoprite. I had never had any experience whatsoever in working and had found it rather difficult to cope with arranging my room and attending to my job at the same time. I made to rush it through but her voice came again, this time in a more demanding and impatient tone.
        
"Hameed!"
   
I jerked upright and faced the direction of the door, swallowing a huge lump down my throat, feeling quite nervous and obnoxious. I knew too well, how strict mother could be and knew I might not be so lucky today to not fall under her claws. But first thing first..., I had better get open the door for her, else, I might burn from her rage of fury.
  
I gently turned open the doorknob and watched her walk majestically into my room, a mug of steaming hot tea in a hand as her eyes traveled round and assessed my huge ventilated room, her eyes clearly showing distaste at the sight of its messed up state.
   
She averted her eyes from my room and let her gaze meet me, her eyes scanning my full body from head to toe. I felt nervous and self conscious than ever.
        
"Late for work today, I see." She said in her thick and heavy French accent that hardly goes unnoticed. Professor Fatima, as she was by everyone, was raised in France and with a masters and a PHD degree in Language and Linguistics, she had taken into being a polyglot and could speak eight different local and international languages, with an unbeatable flair in French, which had taken a huge advantage over her tongue and her accent.
         
"And a dirty room too. I see somebody is going against my rules." She added, her expression still as cold and straight as ever.
       
"I'm sorry, Mom. I've been so stressed out lately with work. But I'll fix it as soon as I return from work."
   
She slowly broke her countenance and a small smile lit up her cold face.
      
"Don't worry, dear. I understand. But you still should've tried your best to maintain your room even with your job. You know how much I hate uncleanliness." She searched through my eyes for any sign of remorse.