Not That Interested

Chapter 30: The One With the Roof Painting

Adiba was a constant source of outraged protector for me. She was ready to kill Areeb on my behalf. The only thing stopping her was the fact that Areeb had apparently fled the country. Again.

EMV mutters spitefully; "Probably to engage in other evil, degenerate activities. That Turd!"

My only remaining best friend, fought tooth and nail to postpone her own wedding to my brother. Even though I protested a lot, Ali and Adiba were adamant about it.

"Do you think I'd like dressing up, and parading in front of people, when my soul sister is hurting?" She whispered in my ear, hugging the daylights out of me. " Ali and I can wait a few months to get hitched. And we can do it in a simple ceremony."

I hugged her back, taking comfort in her familiar arms.

I had pleaded a week off from work, for my wedding, so I guess everyone was surprised to see me back at work, a few days earlier.

Nobody mentioned the wedding, or Areeb. I guess Adiba had threatened people with physical harm if they prodded into my affairs. I quietly buried myself into work. I needed this as a distraction; because, everything at home reminded me of a life I would never have.

The new clothes, the jewelry, the gifts, and the decorated rooms, all screamed at me; "You are unwanted. Un-lovable.  Even your best friend couldn't fall in love with you, let alone anyone else. You obviously don't deserve happiness!"

Painting was the only escape I had. I loved losing myself in the colors. There was something so satisfying about dirtying up a clean white canvas. When I wasn't at the office, painting, and sketching for money...I was in my room, creating painting and sketching for oblivion.

That's what I wanted; Oblivion. A place where I couldn't think, couldn't feel, couldn't remember.

Two days after my break-up, I ran out of canvas paper. I had used up two batches of acrylic paints, and twelve huge canvas sheets. The urge to paint was too hard to resist. I debated heading out for Universal Stores, My favorite art supplier, but it felt like too much trouble.

I also debated painting on my room walls, but I immediately rejected the idea. I didn't want this horrible time of my life to be immortalized on my four walls.

So I headed to my safe place; my roof.

It looked, and smelt like it always did; like comfort.

I resisted the urge to yell out for Shehzer and Rania, like I used to...so long ago. This was my time. I can be alone for a while.

I spread out my ancient oil based paints. It took a while for them to soften up, and become paint-worthy. Then I started painting the floor of my roof. I started with a rough sketch that I had in mind, but then it turned into a different idea.

I had never experimented with 3-D art, but I guess this is what it would turn out to be.

I worked on it for hours, feverishly mixing colors. Using my hands, and legs where necessary, I was literally painting with my body and soul. My hair was liberally streaked with paint, as I had run my fingers through it multiple times. It had a tendency to escape the messy bun I had twisted it into. I have no idea how crazed I looked, what with sweat and paint running down my face. At some point, tears must have shown up too, because I slit my finger, trying to twist open a turpentine can. I was heedless of everything, the blood, the sweat, the paint. This was a purging of sorts...and I needed this.

Nothing in my life was now in my control; but I still had this, I still had my art. My art would turn out exactly like I planned it. My art wouldn't tell me he loved me, and then screw another woman. My art wouldn't ruin my life.

"Mina." The deep shocked voice almost made me stop in the middle of a brushstroke. But I kept on working; dip, splatter, stroke. I was very nearly done.

"Mina, you're bleeding. You've got to stop." He implored.

"Go away Shehzer. I don't need you to be a superhero right now. I am fine." I gritted out.

He grabbed both of my hands in one of his large ones, forcing me to drop my paint brush. His face was a mixture of shock, and pity. Did he know too? was everyone in the known universe aware of my humiliation?

"You need to wash this wound immediately....Your paint base can seriously infect it." He gently brushed away the paint splattered hair from my eyes.

I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to hurt him just like I was hurting. It was irrational, and infinitely bitchy.

"Stop pulling your doctor crap on me." I inform him coldly, yanking my hands away, and grabbing tr dropped brush. "I said I am fine. I don't need your pity, or your help."

"Who says I pity you?" he asked, unwilling to take my words seriously. Damn him.

"Shouldn't you be in Lahore?" I concentrate on mixing two colors, trying not wince in pain. My finger was hurting, and it was slowly dripping blood into the paint palette, messing up with the intended color.

"Mom and Rania are leaving for home tomorrow, so I decided to leave with them." He is sharply observing my every movement.

My heart sinks at his words. "Kitten is leaving?" I gasp, "Sorry, I meant Rania...I will miss her." My ever-ready tears start to descend, as I try my best not to bawl my eyes out in front of him.

He smiles sadly; "Yeah, she is leaving. But she has wrangled a promise out of me, that I arrange visits every year." he shakes is head; "She wanted to come here every weekend. It took some serious math skills to convince her that her swear jar cannot possibly afford weekly air travel across three continents."

I smile weakly at that, while my depression grows at the prospect of not seeing Rania for months and years.

"Mina...please stop painting, and let me take care of your hand." He asks hesitantly.

I swallow painfully at his concern. Why can't he just let me be?

"I need to do this Shehzer. You don't understand...he..I...I need this. i need to forget. Please."

"How can I help?"

We ended up completing my 3-D project together. It was a room. An empty room. grey, and black. The effect, made it seem like we were looking inside the room from above. When I applied the last brush stroke, Shehzer was immediately by my side, gently washing away the paint, from my fingers. I don't know where he got it from, but he had a first aid kit open beside him during his ministrations.

I winced when he applied the anti-septic solution to the inch-long gash on my finger. His skillful fingers gentled at my reaction, as he tried to joke;

"Let me guess, you're afraid of needles too?"

"Needles are an unnecessary evil." I breathed, scrunching my eyes at the pain in my hands.

Once he had neatly bandaged my finger, his hands still didn't let go of my hands. I tugged uselessly at it, but he forced me to look up at his face.

"It wasn't your fault. I hope you don't blame yourself for that man's stupidity."

His voice was so earnest, my eyes welled up into annoying tears once again.

"It is my fault Shehzer. I wasn't enough for him....he..he..couldn't bear to love me. There's obviously something wrong with me."

I yanked my hand back, and ran downstairs without thanking him.