TRIALS (Completed)

Four

If the world was free of problems, paradise would lose its value– Mufti Isma’il Menk. 

Walida walked home as fast as she could, after leaving eleven missed calls and seven messages for Shamsudeen who was still yet to reply. But that didn’t stop her from constantly glancing at her phone as she hurried home. 

The boys were already home when she arrived. She got them to take their baths and she prepared their lunch of noodles and boiled eggs. 

What would happen now? She wondered. It would’ve been easier if Shamsu would just pick his calls, at least she’d be assured of his safety and that of the store. 

Her phone rang as she joined the boys in the dining room, She quickly walked towards the red leather couch and picked the call, without even looking at the contact name. “Hello dear.” She breathed out. 

“Walida?” it was a female voice. 

She let out a frustrated sigh and replied. “Yaya Kauthar.” 

“Ya Salaam, what is happening? I just saw the news.” Kauthar said in a panicked tone. 

“Wallahi,” Walida ran a hand down her face. “I’m as clueless as you are, gashikuma ya qi daga wayarsa–he refused to pick his calls.” She added. 

“Innalillahi…” Kauthar exclaimed, letting out a slight hiss. “Please, ki kwantar da hankalinki kanji, Allah ya know sauce–don’t worry yourself, may God grant you ease.”

  “Ameen,” Walida replied as tears gathered in her eyes. 

Kauthar promised to call back later before the call ended. Walida slumped on the couch, trying to control her shaky breath. She tapped her phone to display Shamsu’s number but her finger hovered over the dial icon. What if it was worse than she thought? 

Later that night, Walida couldn’t sleep. She was seething, no — livid as she moved from one end of the orange patterned wall of the bedroom to another. It turned out that Shamsu had spoken to her dad, that his shop was indeed badly affected— just as she had feared. She understood his reluctance to call, but the least he could do was talk to her. Or did he think she couldn’t handle the news? They were a team for God’s sake! 

She plopped on the bed and glanced at the round clock hanging on the wall behind her:
11:00 pm. She shook her head and sighed, determined to wait till the next morning if she had to. 

Shamsu arrived home at past midnight and met her asleep on the chaise lounge. The TV was still on, but on a low volume— to keep her company. With a shake of his head, he walked towards the bedroom.

As the door closed behind him, Walida opened her eyes and sat up straight. She turned off the tv and adjusted her light pink blouse over white knee-length shorts. She folded her blanket and made her way to the bedroom. She resumed her former position on the bed and waited. A part of her was tempted to just go to sleep, they’d sort it out tomorrow. But the other disagreed, she deserved an explanation. Tonight!

Shamsu came out of the bathroom and stopped short of seeing her. They stared at each other for a while— she took in his pinched eyes and downturned lips before he moved to the black and white Formica wardrobe to take out his pyjamas. 

Dressed in a fitted black shirt and shorts, Shamsu walked to his side of the bed, but not before Walida blocked his way, standing akimbo. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

Shamsu sighed. “Look honey, I’m really tired, ok?” he said softly.

Walida felt sorry for him, but still… “Look, I don’t want to fight you, I just…” she faltered. “I was so worried, you didn’t pick my calls, at least to assure me that you’re okay.”

“I wasn’t,” he replied. “That’s why I didn’t want you to worry. He held her shoulders as she narrowed her eyes.

“What does that even mean? You’re not the only one who suffered a loss, I did too.” She pointed to herself. “Did you feel better by staying away from home?” she asked. He kept silent, his shoulders hunched and his eyes got even smaller. Walida sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist. 

He buried his face in her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” came his muffled voice. 

Walida rubbed his back in reply. “How bad was it?” She whispered. 

Shamsu pulled back with a sigh, “Very bad. Store ta one sosai–the store was badly burnt.”

“Innalillahi,” she shook her head. “What happened?” 

Shamsu led her to the bed. “Toh, it was an electrical problem from Magarya’s clothing store (two shops away from his). What made it worse was that there was nobody in the shop and it was locked when the fire started, as most of us had gone to pray. Only to come back and…” he trailed off, shutting his eyes, and leaned on the eagle-shaped mahogany headboard. 

Walida rubbed his arms. 

“It was like a dream,” he continued. “While we were trying to abate the fire in the shop, we didn’t realize that it had escalated through the ceiling. And you know the shop between Magarya’s and mine had a gas cooker and a motorcycle parked in front. 

“Oh Allah,” Walida mumbled with a shake of her head. 

Shamsu let out a small hiss. “We had put out most of the fire when the fire service arrived and we managed to save some things that we could.”

  “But thank God, nobody was hurt.” She said. 

“But still, we lost a lot fa.” He shook his head. 

“I know, but is it worse than death?”

“No, but…” he looked like he wanted to say something, but he nodded instead. “Let’s go to bed. We have a meeting with the market association tomorrow.” He said as she obeyed silently, knowing no words would be able to ease their worries.

They could only find comfort and safety in each other’s arms with the hope that things would get better.

But it had only just begun…