The Scars They Hide

Chapter Three - Daily Life

Chapter Three – Daily Life

When Lutfiyah was a child, she had been quiet and perfect. That was literally the way all her teachers and even her parents had described her. She listened when people spoke, she obeyed when given an order and she never caused any trouble.

So it had been a surprise to all and sundry when she had quietly announced that she intended to study in a college overseas. It hadn’t even been a request. She had received a scholarship, had applied at her preferred colleges, gotten accepted and was planning on leaving as soon as they needed her to be there.

Her father had been furious.

No daughter of his would be allowed to study so far away from home because ‘what would people say’. Her mother had almost had conniptions and it had taken an entire school of teachers and lineage of family members to convince her parents that if any child could go study in the States and come back uninfluenced, it would be Lutfiyah Abbas. And besides, knowing her, what trouble could she really get into?

But as Shakespeare had once written, ‘Our wills and fate do so contrary run.’

Lutfiyah groaned as her alarm rang in her ear, the light tinkling bells rousing her from her deep sleep. She reached out and swiped a finger across the screen, her phone falling silent as she laid her head down and closed her eyes. Not two minutes later, the alarm went off again and Lutfiyah held her tongue as words best not said out loud threatened to escape.

She rolled out of bed and tucked the covers back under her daughter’s chin, walking in a zombie-like state to the bathroom. Splashing water on her face, she looked into the mirror and groaned out loud, the dark circles under her eyes causing her to wince. She hated mornings.

She went to the bathroom and performed her ablutions before grabbing her jilbaab and setting down her prayer mat. Glancing at the clock, she realized there were only fifteen minutes left for sunrise and she hurriedly started her prayers.

Half an hour later, showered and ready for work, she slipped out of the door, hurrying along the corridor as she collected the glass bottle outside the Malone’s flat. Hastening to the second floor, she grabbed the bottle outside of the Smith’s flat too before going down to the lobby, making it in time to catch the milkman.

“Hello Joseph.”

“Morning, Miss Abbas. You didn’t bring the Ronald’s bottle?”

She shook her head at the sweet grey-haired man. “They’re out of the country this month. Mrs Ronald’s first daughter gave birth and they’ve gone to stay in Ireland with her for a while.”

Joseph nodded and took the three bottles from her, exchanging them for three full bottles of milk. She smiled in thanks and wished him a good day before hurrying up the stairs again, fearful of being late for work.

She had just placed the bottle of milk by the Malone’s door when the door opposite her own flat opened. She froze as her neighbour walked out in a pair of grey sweatpants and a faded grey t-shirt. He was barefooted and soft-looking, his right hand scratching at his beard as he bent down to grab the newspaper by his doorstep. She hadn’t even seen the paperboy today and who had he paid to bring his paper to his door anyway?

Catching sight of her, he lifted his hand in greeting before frowning down at the bottle in her hand.

Before he could ask, she spoke. “We get milk delivered. I just...uhm, drop off the Malone’s milk. Mrs Malone is too old to keep going up and down the stairs and Mr Malone only insists that he doesn’t need milk if he has to get up so early to fetch it.”