Primed For Guilt

25 months after his death

''come on it's been a year since that incident and they still remember it to this day'', I told Maryam while packing my bag. It was finally winter break, the time I dreaded the most. It was time to go back home, or what was left.

''look on the bright side Zoya! at least no one bothers you now''

''thats because they're afraid of getting pepper sprayed in the eyes too''.

After my three days of expulsion, I was allowed to go to college. I felt bad for sir Jamal (the anatomy professor) as his eyes were still a bit swollen. It was better not to bring up the matter again and so he taught our batch as if that incident had never happened. It was awkward sitting in his class but I had no other choice. I found out that he was similar to me in a few aspects. As soon as sir Jamal would turn around to face the board, they would throw paper balls at him.

He was quite intelligent, considering that he was only four years older than his students. But what he lacked most were social skills. Quite often I saw him sitting alone, munching on his lunch with the table filled with papers. His musty car was the talk of the town too as it gave twice as much fuel as its size. It was obvious that he was having trouble fit in, not that he wanted to. He was perfectly fine the way he was and preferred being an introvert.

''well I guess this is it'', we had reached the airport. Maryam had a flight for Lahore while I was going to Islamabad, where I'd take a bus back home to Peshawar. We said our goodbyes and I watched her go until she was out of sight.

I plugged my headphones in and went to the waiting area. From far away I recognized curly unruly hair. I went a bit closer and to my surprise it was sir Jamal sitting with a bunch of papers on his lap.

''Salam'', I said. He looked up and got up

''Salam. I hope I didn't unintentionally follow you here'', he joked.

''Im really sorry, there was too much going on that day''

''that was pretty good self defense right there''

''Are your eyes alright now?''

''yes they are doing alright'', he sat down and I decided to take the seat in front of him. He packed his papers inside his bag and sat there with his leg on top of the other one.

''so, Jamal, your family is in Islamabad?'', I tried to start a conversation 

''Jamal?'', he started laughing 

''since we're not in college right now, sir wouldn't be suitable''

''well in that case, Zoya, I live alone and yes it's in Islamabad. Now before you ask for the street I don't know it myself'', we started laughing

''I barely know my address. Its my brother who drives me around''

''thats hard to believe coming from a gold medalist.''

''here we go with the stereotypes''

''oh no I didn't mean to offend you. But a women of great substance, like yourself, has a long way to go. Explore yourself and im sure you'll be surprised too'', these words seemed to fill my heart with content. My academic skills were never appreciated my whole life, while here it was. A person who I had previously pepper sprayed saw potential in me.

''FLIGHT NUMBER IS340 REPORT TO ISLE 4''

''thats my queue'', he got up and picked his bag up.

''It was nice talking to you'', I said with a smile

''have a safe journey Zoya''. As he was leaving I saw a piece of paper fall from his pocket. I picked it up to find a phone number on it.