The Essence of Noah (Muslim story)

Shai

I had left mum for the remainder of the morning and the most part of the afternoon in the apartment to settle, while I made a half-hearted leave to my lectures and tutorial. As I sat in the lecture hall drumming my fingers on the small pull up desk, I mentally hoped that mum was cooking. I've missed having a proper meal being made for me, and in fact I specifically missed mum's cooking, although I would never tell her that. Mum's the type of person that thrives off praise- once she hears it she won't forget and she won't let you for that matter either. That's why I generally keep my thoughts to myself- it's best.

Around me people start to stand and move off and it comes to my attention that I've spent the last five minutes of the lecture calculating the possibility of mum cooking instead of paying attention. Sighing, I slide the desk back between the armrests of the two seats and stand, grabbing my backpack and fitting it between my arms, as I make my way into the crowd on the centre steps leading up to the double doors.

Once I finally manage to make it out and the bodies around me disperse, I'm unforgivingly hit with a brutal gust of air that makes me sharply inhale and tug my jacket tighter around my body. The pavement is wet, covered in thin and damp lifeless leaves. It's Autumn, I remind myself. Only Autumn. I'd honestly rather not think of what winter in Melbourne is going to be like, because coming from Adelaide, I've skipped Autumn and pulled out my winter attire. Now I realise, I'm in need of more parkers and vests.

I try to walk as fast as I can back to the apartment without running, whilst praying it doesn't rain- I don't want a wet scarf. I'm almost certain nothing is worse than damp cotton weighing your head down on your neck. As go however, I can't help but glance around at the people around me, trying to pick out a familiar face; Noah's face, but amongst the crowd of people who've finished for the day, it's nearly impossible. Instead, I just focus on the path ahead, convincing myself that I don't need someone to keep me company as I walk, although it is nice from time to time.

As I turn to the apartment building, I mutter a brief 'hamdu li allah' for not raining on me and I breathlessly push open the door to be greeted by Noah and who I guess must be a resident, standing at their mailboxes. As soon as the door opens, both heads turn to me, causing the redness from the cold to further deepen in an embarrassed blush. I close the door quietly as Noah smiles and the man beside him turns back to the mail in his hand.

I make to go straight past them and up the stairs, but once Noah calls my name and I hear the rattle of his key in his mailbox lock, I pause and turn, mustering up a feeble smile and tug on the end of my scarf.

"Hi." I say.

"Hey," He replies. "You just finished?" I nod and make to continue up the stairs with Noah alongside.

"Yeah, you?" I steal a cautious glance in his direction as he shuffles the envelopes in his hand. I don't miss the handwritten text on one of them that resembles the two envelopes I mistakenly received. Once I see it, I can't help but think that whoever it is must be old fashioned or have a lot of time on their hands.

"Around three." Again I nod and bite the inside of my cheek. "I saw you out the balcony this morning." He comments and I can feel him looking at me as we reach the landing. He nods to my door. "Is your mum here?"

"Yeah." From where I stand I can smell mum's cooking slipping through the sides of the door and infusing the landing. What were the odds? However, despite being satisfied at having confirmed a gourmet meal, I now feel embarrassed to stand with Noah, who can probably smell it too. In the moment as we stand, I debate with my etiquettes and morals of inviting him for dinner. In my mind, right now knowing him, and knowing mum's inside, I have no problem in suggesting the offer, in fact I'm so inclined to do so considering he's offered me up a meal in two occasions at Abu Tamer's Kebab Hut, and this would simply be returning the offer. But, my morals, as they always do, seem to be offering more of a convincing argument with the words 'haram' and 'fitnah' being overly used.