The Flying Dreams

CHAPTER NINE

That night after returning from the campus of Shifa's university, I made kheer again and watched Shifa's face light up at the sight. I thought she deserved that for agreeing to let me stay at her place and I knew it was not her decision alone, her father, Wahab's father and mine had made the arrangements but as soon as I saw the life she led, the buzz of students gathered around for the same purpose and then, at last, seeing so many universities I had only heard about or sometimes watched in movies. And the sudden inspiration that I might be like Shifa one day, blend in the crowd as smoothly as her without constantly worrying about the piece of cloth I wore around my head, and hopefully, stop in my tracks to make small conversations. After seeing a tiny piece of the life I so craved, my heart whirred with something uncertain. Excitement, yes, but something else too. A feeling I couldn't comprehend, and I assumed, for a moment, it might be fear of facing such a huge change all of a sudden but when that strange emotion threatened to take away my excitement, I called Shifa out in the kitchen.

"What should I make for dinner?"

She cocked her head to the right and gave me a look of confusion, "You don't have to cook. We'll just order in."

She said it so easily, with an endearingly stupid raise of a brow. Order in, I wondered what my mother would have to say if she knew I didn't feed Wahab's cousin. Adia Jan, you know cousins talk. What would Wahab think of it? Would he be alright with the fact that his cousin had to eat food from outside while his fiancée lived right there? No. No, he wouldn't be. Somehow, I knew he wouldn't be happy about it. I stared at Shifa. Her scrunched-up nose, her large hoop earrings still dangling from her earlobes and her shoulder-length hair tied in a low ponytail. Did she think before talking? I didn't believe she did. And just for that alone, I found myself smiling. I couldn't remember the time I didn't cook for a whole family of twelve. My cousins helped, but as the eldest one among a dozen of them, it was my duty to take control of the kitchen matters. It seemed as if I would have to look after Wahab's cousin, too. I was still unsure about her age and made a mental note to ask Wahab about it later since Shifa hadn't called me by name nor did she address me as an older fiancée of her cousin brother. I avoided saying her name too.

"Yes, we could. But why waste money when I can make anything you want?"

I was, indeed, right in my assumption that she didn't really think before opening her mouth and only for a second, I wondered how could she be so different than me? As soon I offered to cook anything she wanted, Shifa didn't hold back her tongue.

"Make anything, I am not picky, but kheer should be a must."

I pushed back the urge to remind her that I had first-hand witnessed her picking through her plate of vegetable curry. We didn't try to make small conversations as we ate. The sound of horns and inaudible music coming from one of the open windows filled the silence. This time, Shifa let me serve a ladle full of pulav on her half-empty plate and felt a little proud, imagining my mother praising me endlessly for that in front of our relatives.

"Have you talked to Wahab? He called me an hour ago."

Cousins do talk, it seemed. I didn't say anything but inclined my chin. She got the hint and kept talking, gulping the last drop of water.

"He asked if you were giving me troubles. I said no, of course—", she chuckled as if what she said was funny. I didn't find it funny, and she realized when I didn't share her laugh, her expressions morphed into something strange and I understood that the laugh had been fake, something to ease the tension, she didn't look at me when she narrated her conversation with her cousin, "— he told me that you would be cooking, so I need to stop eating junk food and you wouldn't believe it but he actually said the same thing as you."

Shifa stopped talking and knew she had all my attention. I wouldn't have asked but her whole demeanour had changed and somehow, I found my lips parting in a question, "What did he say?"

Her eyes flitted to mine for a tiny moment, but I sensed the awkwardness of the situation. I hadn't known Wahab was close to her. He didn't give me the impression and I only found out from Shifa that they talked more often. I recalled Wahab's voice telling me to stay away from Shifa, his hesitation and now I imagined his voice, telling Shifa that I would be cooking for her. I had no problem in cooking for her or for anyone for that matter but the image of Wahab just expecting that I would spend my days in the kitchen irritated me. Straight out of one to another.

"You don't have to, though. I--," she cleared her throat, the pulav in her plate getting colder every minute, and kheer getting ignored, "I am sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

Shifa finally looked up and faced me. Her brows crinkled and my eyes fell on the bold white letters on her red t-shirt, it read too sleep-deprived to give a shit. She tilted her head and in a matter of seconds, she understood that I was not being anything but genuinely confused as to why would she apologize. None of my irritation was directed toward her, though, I still felt this conversation shouldn't have happened on the dining table. While we were eating the food, I made. Ummy would be disappointed once I tell her.

"Adia, you do realize that you would be a doctor someday, don't you?"

So, she wouldn't be calling me sister-in-law. That is exactly what came to my mind when she spoke. I nodded and tried to get back to my own plate of pulav, taking a spoonful of curd and avoiding Shifa's question.

"How did you like today's little tour?"

I forced back the smile that threatened to spread wide on my face. I loved it. I wanted to go out again and explore all those cafes and eat the food from the street vendors. But most importantly, I loved how she changed the gloomy subject to a brighter one.

Picking up a bowl of cold kheer, I passed it to her and said, "Don't talk while eating."

Shifa laughed and I had to use all my willpower not to join. She waited for some time, and when she realized she wouldn't be getting an answer from me, she nodded her head, her loose hair bounced on her shoulders, and she set her lips in a thin, serious line. I watched her mouth moving to form a word when her phone rang. The light coming from it showed me the name of the caller. Riya with a green heart next to it. I have saved Wahab's name without any hearts on my phone but my favourite cousin, Zoya's, name had two red hearts and a flying kiss emoji. I assumed it might be her best friend or something since the name Riya didn't sound familiar or even Islamic.

Shifa's eyes flickered to her phone, her brows slightly raised in annoyance, and she swiped the red button on the screen up. I remembered how she hadn't picked up her phone before. And then, it dawned on me. Perhaps, they were fighting. When I argued with Zoya, I gave her the silent treatment to let her know I was mad at her. It felt all too familiar. The phone rang again and this time, Shifa sighed and cut the call again. Her phone rang three times and when she moved her finger to cut the call again for the fourth time, I couldn't help myself.

"Just pick up the call. I always hated it when my own best friend fought with me."

Shifa stared at me, her eyes unnaturally wide and with a slow inclination of her head, the corner of her lips rising up in what I perceived as amusement, she said in a loud voice, "How nice. Shukriya, dear cousin-in-law."