Falling Short

Nine

"Laughter is a language that knows no borders. This joke I learnt in Arabic hurts just as much as in English, or French, or any other dialect."
- Emtithal Mahmoud.

Noor sits in the present, swallowing down the big lump in her throat. She hated overthinking the past. It's as if she was broken and glued into this house of horrors, constantly at the hand of traumatic experiences and disastrous memories.

As if the feeling of tightness was felt, Salih appeared in the kitchen with gradual movements advancing towards her. "Can we go for a breather, please?"

Noor sighed and slid past him to get changed into a brown abaya and a dark-coloured scarf before helping Salih get dressed, as well as preparing some food for the trip. She didn't know any locations in particular but drove in a known direction that weirdly enticed her. Salih drew down the window from the back seat, and Noor spared him a glimpse, feeling a jolt of a spark as she once used to feel. His hair danced to the soft breeze, and the sun pecked at the side of his head ever so gently that his jawline received it well.

Subconsciously, Noor had pulled up to an area ever-so familiar, and yet it hadn't triggered her core memory. Unbuckling Salih, she noticed his gentle gaze at the side of her face, but she remained silent. Once sat in the wheelchair, they both headed to the blanket of sand that met with the blue and mysterious waters.

"This was where we first went after our wedding." Salih's melodious voice cut through the sound of the splashing waves, catching Noor off-guard. But there was no guard in the first place, as she revisited the happiness and lulled to the comforting aura.

Then she realised how far they had strayed from their starting point. Slowly came resentment, bitterness, grief, and hatred. She could envision her past self dancing around, throwing herself and her wedding dress into Salih's embrace and pecking him lovingly. She recalled whispering to him shamelessly, "Finally, you're mine," to which Salih would take her in with passion and love.

Love.

What an ephemeral phenomenon.

Salih took Noor's hands in his and pulled her to him until she sat on his lap. Noor didn't look down at him, rather, focused on the far sea carrying the ships on polar ends. It was inevitable. That separation.

"Do you remember us, Noor? Do you see us the way I am right now? How attracted and compatible we were to be in each other's embrace?" Salih dragged his hands to face her chin towards him.

"Do you not remember that accident? The one which rendered me infertile after a miscarriage? As if my life couldn't get any worse. You just want me to stay as a servant; don't even try to sway me with your words. Divorce me and get you a better wife! I have no business left with you!" Salih's eyes grew with sympathy, and Noor didn't like it one bit. She knew he agreed with her words. There's no going back to how things were.

"So what?! I love you, and that's all that matters! We don't have to have children to be married for goodness' sake!"

"No! NO! Stop, stop. You don't know what you're saying. Just... just stop it." Noor was now shaking uncontrollably, unaware of her surroundings, as well as the fact that Salih was holding her flailing arms to stop her from hitting him. Tears streamed down her face waterfall-like. Salih brought Noor closer to him and seized her wobbling lips, whether it was to calm her down or to revisit what once made his heart skip a beat. Slowly, they both melted into each other, one more unwilling than the other.

A tear trickled down Noor's cheeks, not bothering to move away, her guard forced down.

What happened to us?