The Essence of Noah (Muslim story)

Non-fiction

"Helen Keller?" I shake my head as I grip onto the railings to move my weight. "Ernest Hemmingway?" I shake my head no again, feeling slightly embarrassed at not knowing these people. "Roald Dhal?" He asks as he glances behind at me.

"Of course." I don't fight the smile that reveals itself. "He's one of my favourites."

"I had a feeling. I can't believe you don't know Ernest Hemmingway, though." We reach the landing of our apartments and Noah comes to a halt by my door.

"I mean, his name sounds familiar, but I don't know him."

"He's an author."

"I figured that much." I shake my head as Noah chuckles as I pull my keys out from my bag. "Any others?"

"Anh Do?"

"The comedian?" I laugh lightly as I push the key into the whole and unlock the door.

"One and only."

"Must've been a good read."

"Very." We both linger at my door for a little as my light laugh subsides and my smile starts to waver when my cheek muscle tire out.

"Well-"

"There's another one that I've read, well I'm reading." Noah begins, as he brings a hand to the back of his head and ruffles his hair. I raise my eyebrows for him to continue and he does. "It's a..." He hesitates for a bit, a nervous chuckle escaping him as he shuffles against the wall.

"A?" For the second time today, his hesitance has me feeling worried and the foreboding feeling of offense joins me by the door.

"Ah," He bits his lip as he stares at the ground. "It's a seerah." He looks up briefly, his eyes partially hidden beneath his falling hair. 'Seerah' sounds different when spoken by him. In my confusion I can't help but notice how foreign the word sounds when it slips through his teeth.

Suddenly it feels like the thick summer air has returned, though this time heavier and harder on my lungs. My lips part as an extra entrance for the much needed air as the blood vessels all over my face dilate. Amongst this, my mind morphs into a hurricane, sweeping up all my thoughts and words, leaving me rattled and blank.

"Oh." The sound echoes from my stunned shaped lips as I stare around our bare landing at walls and closed doors.

"Yeah." Uncertainty laces his voice as he continues to speak. "It's about Muhamad - you know, the pro-"

"Yeah." I cut him off as I nod my head but stare at my feet. Desperately I try to restore the damage in my head, searching for something, anything to say to remedy the awkwardness I've created. "Him I know." I muster a smile, but my lips are dry, and I have to hold back a wince as I feel the skin tug and split.

Noah smiles back, though doesn't hold my gaze as he continues to shift on his feet. "I thought so." He says, chuckling quietly as he brushes his hair out of his face.

Again we stand in silence while I pull the key out of my unlocked door.

"I'll see you around, neighbour." With that, he pushes himself off the wall and pulls a key out of his pocket to unlock his door. Before he opens it, I walk into my apartment and shut the door softly.

Safe to say, I would have betted on it snowing tonight, than Noah reading Muhamad's seerah.

~*~

Throughout the past two weeks I've heard nothing from Noah. I haven't seen him in the morning on my way to my lectures or on my walks back home. I don't see him out on his balcony either. It's as if he doesn't want to be seen, or doesn't want me to see him. The thought irritates me, but I can't blame him. After the night at Abu Tamer's kebab hut, I've decided that I must indefinitely treat Noah like a neighbour not a friend.