The Essence of Noah (Muslim story)

Walks

I'm not quite sure whether Evan would be stoked at having forecast the weather or in a mood at having missed out on a 'sunny' summer. It's raining outside. It's actually a realistic representation of how I'm feeling right now.

It's raining, but it's not cold. It's like running through the sprinklers on a forty degree day and having the tiny water droplets mixing with your sweat, leaving you cool for a second, then hot, damp and bothered til you decide to run through them again. To an extent it's nostalgic, reminding me of my younger summers and frolicking about in the front yard as mum watered the prickly and dead grass.

Through the open balcony doors the smell of rain and cement has fanned into the living space, making the air humid and my body clammy. It's not pouring down, it's more like a drizzle, the kind that splatters on the bathroom floor from the shower head after a wash. The sun isn't out though. I think that's what's making everything seem so much duller. The sky is grey for a change, with white fluffs of clouds here and there offering droplets on the parched grounds.

The weather isn't great for my mood at the moment. I was right about sleeping on guilt. It enhances your emotions and makes you realise just how much of a bad person you really are. I didn't come up with an apology, but I woke up feeling crappier than ever. I should have apologised to Noah last night, gotten it over and done with and moved on. I don't like dwelling and filling my mind with 'should haves' and 'what ifs' and what can now never be. I like to move on quickly- to keep going. In fact, as of recent my goal has become to keep going for as long as possible, to seem as calm and tranquil as Noah. I want to look and feel just like he does when he steps out onto the balcony.

It's a pathetic goal, but I want it.

Placing my mug in the sink I take out a bowl and box of Weet-bix. It's not even seven yet, but with the guilt, the blender roaring from next door and the fact that it's Wednesday and if miss the recycling pick-up my hallway is going to remain decorated in corrugated card, I decided to get up.

I eat my cereal, and change for the day, before heading to the hallway to figure out how I can get everything to the dumpster in one go. Regret looms in the back of my mind, as I recall Evan's offer to take it all down last night. I stack the flat boxes, making a rickety pile of all the torn and cut up pieces, stacking them in two piles. I'll just have to do the rounds twice.

Opening my door, a humid breeze climbs its way up the stairs and greets me on the landing, waiting to coat me with a muggy grease layer the moment I step out. I take the first stack of boxes down the stairs and to the dumpster behind the apartment building. I throw them inside and shack my arms loosely at the relief from the weight.

I repeat it again, this time taking my back pack and locking my door behind me as I carry the last of the rubbish to the dumpster. Taking the last steps down to ground floor- even behind the stack in my arms- I don't miss Noah, standing at his mailbox, sifting through the white envelopes. Subconsciously my heart decides to act on its own accord, moving up my throat with every thudding beat.

I wanted to continue walking briskly hoping his eyes don't shift from his letters to the eyesore of recyclable rubbish I'm carrying. It was a farfetched hope. Noah didn't look up because he noticed me, he looked up because he heard me. The traitorous "hey" that shot from between my lips in a breathless huff hits its only target in the empty landing. I stop at the end of the stairs, mustering up a smile and thinking of a lame apology.

"Morning." Noah nods his head curtly, his tousled hair drooping over his eyebrows as he swings his back pack over his shoulder and stuffs the letters inside. He gives me a smile, though not one I've noticed on him before. It barely pulls at his lips and stretches his cheeks. His teeth don't show and the crinkles by his eyes don't deepen. It's a half decent smile- kind of like my apologies.