MANAL

60: Jawaad

The reality of my father's illness downed on me. In as much as I wanted to convince myself that he would be fine, I knew the chances were extremely low.

My legs wobbled, as I walked towards my car, in the parking lot.

I was able to control my tears, until I got into the car. I rested my head on your he steering wheel and let out the pent-up tears. The doctor's words kept on resounding in my ear, like a mantra. I covered my ears, in the hopes of getting rid of the horrible words, but to no avail. I couldn't get rid of them, instead, the doctor's voice became even louder.

My dad was the most casual person I had ever met in my whole life. An affluent, yet humble man. In all the years I had known him, I never never seen him look down on the less privileged—not even once.

Growing up, dad was never really there to spend time with us, due to the nature of his job, but the little time he always got to spend on us, he made sure to instil quality values in us. I wanted to grow up and be exactly like him. I wanted my future children to get to know their grandfather. I wanted to spend many more years with him..

More tears welled up in my eyes at the thought of mum. I didn't know how she would take the news. She would probably be broken and fall sick herself. I didn't want that, so right now there and then, I decided to hide his illness from her. I would tell her someday, but definitely not at the moment.

The ringtone of my phone pulled me out of my thoughts.

The sight of 'Mum' on my screen made a few more tears escape my eyes. I contemplated on whether or not to pick the call. If I decided not to pick up, she would get worked up and it I decided to pick, she would probably notice a change in my voice.

The call ended.

I heaved a short sigh of relief, but the relief was short-lived when another call came through.

This time, I decided to pick. The last thing I wanted, was for her to think something had happened to dad in her absence.

I made sure to clear my throat, before swiping on the receive button.

"Assalamualaikum!" Came her voice. By the tone, I could tell she had also been crying. Without even knowing her husband's current situation, she was that worried, what would happen when she would come to know of the severe illness he was suffering from?

"Waalaykum Salam." I responded. "H—"

"How's your father doing?" She asked, cutting me off. "Has he woken up yet? I want to speak to him right now."

I swallowed a painful lump in my throat. I didn't want to lie to Mum, but I had to. For her own sake. "The doctor said he is recuperating."

"Is he?" Uncertainty dripped off her tone. "Alhamdulillah. Has he woken up?"

"No." I replied. "He hasn't. But the doctor said he will sooner than later."

"Okay. I'm coming to the hospital right now."

"No!" I was quick to object. "Please don't."

"Why?" I could picture her in my mind frowning.

"Because even if you're here, you won't be allowed to see him. Don't worry, mum, I will be here with him. Stay home and have a rest. Very early tomorrow, I will come pick you up mys—"

"Have a rest?" She huffed. "How am I supposed to have a rest, when all I think about is your father. Jawaad, I can't force myself to have a rest. I'm afraid for your father. I'm afraid..." She trailed off. "I'm coming right now."

"Please don't," I beseeched. "Don't do it, mum."

"Why are you stopping me?"

"Because the doctors will not allow you see him right now."