Not That Interested

Chapter 29: The One without Denial

"Denial ain't just a river in Egypt."— Mark Twain

Psychologists say that there are five stages of grief, and loss. Well, I'm not sure whether it was psychologists, or philosophers..I always confuse the two. The point is, someone smart said it, so it must be true.

Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance. These are the five stages.

If you're dealing with a death of someone close to you, these are the mental levels you go through before you ultimately accept your fate and "Move On with your life". You can go through them in a month, or a year, or a lifetime. But you will experience them. It is fact.

I feel like someone very close to me died. Which isn't surprising. More than two decades of friendship, laughter, tears, games, love, trust, secrets, shared stories....all of that. Dead. It's just a matter of biological technicality that neither I, nor....HE.. had to actually die for it to end.

Traveling back with my brother after...He, broke my heart is something I did on auto-pilot. I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. You know? one of those overhead drone cameras, that capture videos from an aerial view? You can see stuff happening, but it isn't happening to YOU. That's how I felt. Disembodied. I remember Ali breaking Areeb's nose when he saw my pale teary face. I remember Auntie and Uncle screaming at Areeb. I remember my brother almost half carrying my limp body to his car. I remember pain. A Lot of it.

But it wasn't happening to me...It couldn't. It seemed like a horrible, cheap, low-budget soap opera story. Who breaks up an engagement days before their wedding? Ugh. So cliched. My life can't possibly be that mundane!

So yes. I remember what happened, but as a spectator. A spectator of a train wreck. Someone who can helplessly watch a calamity unfold, and can do nothing about it. I was torn in two. My spectator part half knew what was real. My real self was....my real self must have been in denial. I wouldn't know. I rather liked being a spectator at that moment. It hurt a whole lot less up there.

Ali pushed me to let out my feelings, all the way back home. I have no idea why people ask you to do that when you've experienced loss, or a shock.

"Cry, you'll feel better."

"Don't hold it inside. Let it go."

Do I look like an animated ice princess?

I won't let it go. Because I think if I do....I will break. So I don't cry.

Ma was pacing the kitchen when we return; glued to our cordless phone.

Apparently she wanted to wake us up for Fajr, but both our beds were empty. She was just about to call in the armed forces for a rescue mission probably.

Ali shields all her panicky inquiries, trying to give me reprieve. It doesn't work with my Mom though. In her defense; any mother would be worried about strange nocturnal trips taken by her children.

I simply shrug off my brother's protective hand on my shoulder, and zombie-walked towards our bathroom.

Where I promptly threw up. Multiple times. I couldn't stop. It was the singular most disgusting experience of my life, because I am one of those "i throw up when I see/hear/think about other people throwing up" kind of person.

I weakly showered and washed up before offering a slightly late morning prayer.

I sense my Ma hovering over me this entire time. Offering water, tissues, tylenol etc. I can't even look her in the face. I just can't. I can barely hear her. I think I mentioned that I often tune her out. This time I had a genuine reason. Apparently heart-break messes up with my hearing. It should be called Ear-break. I like that. Ear-break.

After my prayers, I can no longer ignore her. She is worried out of her mind, because Ali simply won't tell her anything. It wasn't his place to tell.

"Ma. Can I have some water please?"I croak.

She stops in the middle of her nagging, and quietly offers me a glass. I don't know how bad I must look and sound, to make her Pause in the middle of a lecture, because she loves nagging, it's very nearly her favorite past-time.

"Beta...Tell me what happened! I am losing my mind over this. Your brother says you went to meet Areeb. Now Mina, you know i am very liberal about your friendships, but there has to be a respectable boundary between you and your fiance. It is simply not in our values to go traipsing off to visit him before the wedding, AT FOUR in the morning, You canno—"

"There is no longer any wedding Ma." I mutter tonelessly. "So it doesn't matter anyways."

"What?...are you mad?" She whispers. "Don't even say those black words beta! they might just come true."

I want to giggle hysterically at that. Because it is true. No. More. Fucking. Wedding.

"Ma. Areeb is no longer my fiance. He just broke off our wedding, in front of his parents. He did...he did...he..." I can't even bring myself to expose him like that. I am so ashamed that I ever considered a lifetime commitment with someone who preferred drugs and infidelity over me.

I finally look up at Ma, and see her shocked eyes. I see devastation. I see remorse, and a smidgen of pity.

And then my Dad walks in. He takes one look at my face and I crumble. Just like that. The tears that I refused to acknowledge are back with a vengeance. And they brought friends; namely, heart-ache, and snot. Lots of it.

I sobbed for how many hours, I don't know. I just know that my parents supported me, literally. Both of them holding my pieces together, while I let the tears break through.

Each time I thought i was done. BAM! fresh batch of sniffles would start. I clung to Dad's shirt while my Ma soothed my hair and back. She was crying too. Asking me to stop. Begging me to stop. This is a fact about parents. They'd rather experience the pain themselves than let their kids go through with it. I should feel sorry for causing them all this added anguish. But my eyes are like floodgates during monsoon season.

Ain't no stopping the tears.

Eventually when I quiet down to an occasional sniffle, they gently ask me what happened. Is it a momentary fight between us? Did his parents break it off? Did we indulge in a "Mistake"?

I answer as best as I can without explaining the depth of Areeb's depravity. As far as my family knows, Areeb has fallen for someone else, and I simply cannot bear the idea of being "The other Woman".

Daddy is black and blue with suppressed rage. He wants to tear Areeb, limb from limb..for hurting me. Mom is trying to calm him down.

"It is better for us that he broke things off before the nikah. Remember beta...Allah always has your best future planned. You need to be patient and accept this as a test...."

I drifted to sleep with exhaustion soon.

My last thought was about my denial, and How I never passed through that stage. This was very real. This was my life now.

No more spotless, perfect life.

No more Areeb, and his dimpled smile.

No more Marriage talks. No more fiance.

No more LUCKY Mina Amin.

Denial? None.

I KNOW.

A/N:

Hello there!!

:D Ummm....I saw a lot of "Evil Author" comments. Lemme just be incredibly masochistic, and say, that nothing pleases, and excites me more than comments where you are unapologetic-ally HONEST about your feelings and opinions.

I Love hearing stuff like this, because it means that what I wrote, made you feel something. And it made you feel it very deeply.

So go ahead. You have my permission to rail at my evil tendencies.

*grins sadistically* I have very thick skin. ;)

Don't forget to Vote and Comment! <3