The Essence of Noah (Muslim story)

Banisters

I wasn't expecting that. To me, Noah seems like the stereotypical Aussie, with hazel eyes and dirty blonde hair, tanned skin and thick accent. And like all stereotypical Aussie's, I thought he was Christian- I didn't think twice about it, I just saw him and instantly gave him his religious tag, just like anyone would take one fleeting look at me and easily declare me a Muslim. I thought, and believed I was right, so when he says he isn't, not really, I feel like I've unfairly judged him.

I glance up at him, trying to make sense of his vague words as he digs his hands deeply into his pockets.

"So you're an Atheist?" The question slips and I wince to myself. An Atheist, really? He could be Catholic or an Orthodox. Right now, he's probably offended.

"I'm a convert." There's a hint of a very light chuckle, one that seems more unsure than humorous- one that makes me feel nervous.

"To Atheism?" He chuckles again, though this time a bit more freely as my cheeks redden.

"No, no." He pauses and lets out a shaky breath, as he sighs. The last time he did this, I got offended and I can't trust myself to not be offended again. "To Islam."

My lips part slightly as my jaw slackens and my tired eyes widen a fraction. Noah looks at me, but looks away, down to his Dunlops as he balances on his heels again. I try to gather myself, to say something to him to break the thickening tension that's suspended between us. The problem is though, I have nothing to say. Like always with Noah, my mind is swept clean of anything decent to fill the silence with and all I mange is "Oh."

"Yeah." He still doesn't look up at me as he ruffles the back of his hair. The tension continues to thicken, like a burning rope tightening around my neck, suffocating me. I think I'm not the only one finding it unbearable as Noah shifts in his spot. "I should call it a night." I nod my head.

"Okay." I don't move, as if I'm rooted to my spot- grounded by this startling information. Noah gives me a half smile as he turns to his apartment door, opening it and walking inside. The sound of his door closing, rings throughout the landing and brings me back to my senses. I bring a hand over my eyes and shake my head as I push the door shut.

I could have handled that so much better. I should have handled that so much better. I lean my head against the door and wince as I replay the scenario in my head. I asked him if he was an Atheist. An Atheist of all things. I bang my head slowly against the door, inwardly cringing at my stupidity. 'Oh'. 'Oh'. That's what I said after he told me he's a convert. I literally blew off something that must have been a really big deal to him. I am the worst Muslim neighbour ever. Baba would definitely be disappointed.

I mope about at my door for a while, before dragging myself to my living space and dropping onto a cushion. I stare out at the dimming evening light through the balcony double doors, trying to clear my mind of the last ten minutes, but nothing helps. It's as though Noah's words are permanently recorded in my mind and so is my pathetic response. A part of me want to go out and knock on his door and ask for a redo of the whole situation, but my realistic self is telling me to wallow and avoid him from now on.

I rub my face harshly as I groan into my hands. He was reading Muhamad's seerah, what more of a hint could he have given me without blatantly saying it to my face. I drop back onto the hardwood floor, feeling it's coolness through the thin fabric of my shirt. I'm so thick.

Turning my head to the side, I see Noah standing on his balcony, leaning his elbows on the railing and holding hands over his head. My stomach twists at the embarrassment I must have caused him. My body is crawling with detestable feelings of self-irritation, and I honestly feel like dumping myself in an ice bath to numb the infesting emotions.