The Essence of Noah (Muslim story)

Bottle

After the talk with Baba on the swing, the topic of my 'personal' life hasn't been brought up by either of my parents. From the way they both reacted at the time, Baba specifically, it seemed as though I'd never hear the end of it. In fact I was preparing myself for ongoing lectures on 'halal relationships' and to 'remember He's always watching'. It's not that I mind the lectures, but I find them quite ironic, and sometimes I wonder whether they realise that. I'm not complaining though, I'm glad the whole thing was forgotten; it pretty much disappeared with Autumn.

It's supposedly winter now, at least that's what the weatherman seems to think. It doesn't really feel like winter, maybe a cooler Autumnal wind, but definitely not winter. The only thing I'm really happy about, is the end of daylight savings which coincidently came hand in hand with Ramadan this year.

Ramadan in my parent's household isn't very traditional. There's not much Masri dishes, or assortments on the table come iftar time, but there's something, so alhamdulilallah for that. Baba and I fast for all of it, but mum treats Ramadan more like a regime month. She fasts and exercises, and complains non-stop about her hunger.

"What time are we having dinner today?" She asks as she comes to a halt in front of the living room doorway.

"Five twenty, I think." I continue to flick through the Better Homes and Gardens catalogue in my hands as I recline on the couch with Albi sitting on my feet.

"What time is it now?" I glance up from the top of the magazine and raise my eyebrows.

"Mum, you do realise you're not technically fasting. You can eat."

"I am too. I've gone this long and you expect me to dish out now?"

"It's not about how long you last, mum. It's about reflecting on what you have that others don't."

"Some reflecting you're doing with a lifestyle mag." She places a hand on her hip and flicks her hair off her shoulder. I close the magazine and drop it on the coffee table, where it slaps ontop of mum's developing collection.

"There's an hour left." I mutter as I lean up and push Albi off my feet. He grunts and stretches, before moving to rest his head on my lap.

"That's not too long." I hear mumble. "Do you think you could grab me a block of butter from Tip-Top? I wanna pan fry the chicken." I give her a blank look with no response. "I need it Hana, and you and Albi could do with the air. Get up."

Despite not having the slightest hint of motivation to do anything productive today, I dress and head out to Tip-Top with Albi leading the way on his leash. Mum had a point, the air is cool and crisp as I inhale it and feel it freeze my lungs. It's a satisfying feeling of liveliness and I find myself wondering why I haven't been going out more often.

When we get to Tip-Top, I tie Albi's leash to the veranda pole and head inside, where my presence is made known by the musical bell at the door. The sound brings back a feeling of nostalgia of my last day in Adelaide late last summer, and when I first met Noah. The store hasn't changed at all. The fluorescent lighting still flickers, the lino is covered in skid marks and the freezers still buzz with the same mechanical sound.

I walk down the aisle to the freezer and grab the butter, and on my way back, I grab myself a pack of sour cream and onion Smiths; an after iftar snack.

"G'day." A boy, probably in his teens stands at the register, in the same uniform Noah wore.

"Hi." I place my items on the counter along with a ten dollar note. His name tag reads Riley, and when I notice it, I try to remember if Noah had a name tag or not.

"Wanna bag?" Riley asks.

"Yeah." He works slowly, scanning the items precisely and pressing buttons on the register. If I didn't know better, I say he only recently got the job.