No Matter What: Chapter Two

... Previously ...


‘I'm just having coffee. It’s nothing to panic about' she started calming herself down. As she reached out to the tray, she found her hands shaking from her nervousness that hit all of a sudden. Being a frequent customer there, the barista offered to bring her order to where she was lounging.

...

The cheesecake was as exquisite as always and the mocha drink was just what she needed to boost up her energy levels. As she turned back to her notebook again to continue writing, her phone flashed a white screen with the name 'MAMA' in bold block prints alerting the identity of the caller. Her mother she thought wasn't really her mother in her opinion; she would rather call her anything but such a name. A name that meant nurturing and care, a name that gave off warmth in a very cold winter night. A name she thought she would do more justice when she has kids than that of her own parent. She really hated her mother for what she made her go through. Being locked up and treated like an inmate in her own house was the worst torture she had to endure thanks to this lady. 'Hel…' she couldn't even complete her greeting only for her mother to yell at her first screaming at her to 'Get back home NOW'. Sadness overwhelmed her emotions, she felt herself breaking not wanting to leave this place. ‘Come on, let’s go’ her brother scolded her in an angry tone. She didn’t want to go back to that house of horrors. A house that felt more like a prison cell; Alcatraz she called it for years from how much she loathed the cubical nightmare, but she had to go.    

Getting back home all blue and unhappy, she arrives at the door only for her mother to open the door and yell at how late she was. ‘But it’s…’ she tried to explain. ‘No Buts. My house, MY RULES’ her mom said firmly in a very loud voice. 'Home Sweet Home' was something of a fantasy in her mind; it would never happen with a mother of such.  Her mother was a very strict and always angry person. She never allowed excuses in regards to anything. Her parenting skills were those of a boarding school teacher or as all the neighbors put it like a drill sergeant. She tried to explain further ‘Mama I’m...’ but her mother still refused to hear her excuse. ‘To your room at ONCE’ she ordered after confiscating her mobile phone. Storming upstairs to her room in loud stomps and tears, she heard her father and brothers quarreling; they were still arguing on which place they should order the halwa* from. One of her brothers was getting married sometime in a few weeks and the arrangements were taking a toll on the family. Preparations were a headache on its own; the guest list, the mosque venue, the food, the rentals of the khanjar** and turbans for the groom and best man. Festivities were in the air but it never felt like a fun experience to her. She was in her own miserable shell which she didn’t want to break out from. ‘Would you keep it down?’ her father shouted pointing at her, even though their shouts and screams were much louder. According to him, it was deemed embarrassing for a man to hear a woman’s cry.

Reaching out to the door it felt as cold as she felt; abandoned and left to rot. The feeling that it was the end of her life kept on creeping into her soul at a faster pace each day. She detested anything and everything. In her point of view, her life was over. The end credits of her lifetime story were soon to be concluded and she was just waiting for the grand 'Le Fin' to fade into the screening of her life. Pushing open the door to her room, she threw her bag and notepad aside and moved away from her tiny mattress. She headed on to dig up something from her wardrobe dresser. A teddy bear she searched for and found. Taking a pause to glimpse at the teddy bear’s features, her eyes dazed at the heart shaped cushion the teddy bear was holding. ‘Just For You’ it read as she gasped for air and hugged the fluffy pink toy tight. The scent of oud started alleviating her senses as she breathed it in; the teddy still had his scent on. She held it tighter as she closed her eyes shut and imagined Shihab hugging her as tight as the teddy between her tiny little arms. His clean lovely beard adorning his chin, his smile and pearly whites that never failed to make her beam like a beacon, the way he’d always pinch her cheeks, and the way he held her hand she envisioned in her mind. She cried as she collapsed to the floor with her back leaning on the dresser’s door. She couldn’t believe that this was happening. She missed him that every flesh and bone in her being hurt. She missed him dearly, she really did. After all, he was the air she breathed. 


* Traditional Omani sweet that is served in special occasions.
** Part of the traditional Omani dress code for men; a dagger worn around the waist.