Strings Attached

~Chapter 12~

Hiba also happens to have a seven-year old brother, Ayaan. He should win the title of 'Nuisance #1', unopposed. It seems he's been especially sent to annoy me. Hiba dotes on him, and needless to say, he whirls around her little finger. Whatever she asks him to do, he does it for her. 

Of course, there's bribe included in the price. Which is a heavy dose of sugar, and the result is: me chasing his hyperactive self as he runs around snatching and throwing my things here and there. I've lost most of my stationery and almost all my hairclips and hair ties this way. And my abaya pins are never to be found again. I even found my abaya smeared with milk chocolate stains once. And it smelt of milk for days afterwards, even though I'd washed it thoroughly.

And where is Mrs. Jabbar all this time, you'd ask? Then let me tell you, she has no fursat from keeping her ruby-red toenails into perfect shape. Half the day she's seen filing away at her already shaped nails like a carpenter. I pity those short nails of hers. What if the supply ended from inching up her skin one fine extra-filing day? Oops! I can't think it, it's too painful. Just please don't tell her I called her nails short.

In this kind of a condition, I'm surprised she can even make tea! In her defense, she does cook for the family, but her duties end there. She has no idea what her daughter is doing, if she's even home or not, and nor does she check her report cards. I'm sure if the girl even brought home drugs one day, she wouldn't know.

It's only Uncle Jabbar who can manage them. Nobody dares to cross the line in front of him, not even his wife. And whenever he's angry, God, they're all in mortal fear of him. It's only him I look up to for support but I've no habit of telling tall tales, so I keep all that I go through to myself. Besides, the respite is short because he's mostly away on business.

And though that's not all of my sob story, let's just keep it for another rainy day; there are many here. I hate when it rains, for when it does, my sorrows become doubled, it seems. But it rains a lot, so I've no option I guess but bear it silently.

When I get down to the kitchen, I see Aunt Jabbar heating dinner in the microwave. She isn't very talkative with me. I accidentally said that I find kitty parties silly, one day, and she's been using clipped tones with me ever since. Oh! And she also thinks I'm a sneak because apparently, I've been filling her husband's ears with her and her daughter's doings. Anyway, I say salaam to her and she replies without looking at me. At least, she has some decency, unlike her daughter.

"Hiba must've told you that we wanted to speak to you about something important," she begins, surprising me. "Y...yes Aunt, she did. I was just going to ask you about it," I answer, stuttering. "Ask your Uncle. He's in the library." "Oh... okay. Should I go now?" "Of course, he's expecting you. Though what he needs from you, I can't seem to understand." The latter sentence is muttered quietly. As if I won't hear!

By the time I get to the library, I have conjured up various scenarios as to what is going to be said to me. And I knock on the door praying he isn't planning on throwing me out or scold me for bad behavior or for spreading falsities about Hiba. But I gather from his tone when he tell me to come in that he's anything but angry. Rather, he looks worn and tired. I say salaam to him and he smiles acknowledging me, indicating me to take one of the cushioned chairs. I sit on one gingerly.