A Romantic Vision

Merging

'' perhaps would be haunted what other reason would serve for their leave" I said, mum and I were discussing about the other mansion.

Our neighbors were mysterious and almost nonexistent but the garden spoke about life from the same lilies that resemble death.

I wondered Awan worked in the other mansion as well.

I gazed at Dad sitting in the isolation, caged in the smokes of his cigar, he doesn't even let a word of loss let loose from his mouth.

I wish Grandpa and him sorted out the matter before he passed away.

"mum you should see Dad; he seems worried"I requested.

she looked over and continued her drink. There were no certain measures to be taken, one loves who he loves unwillingly never willingly.

I twisted my hair and left the room, I sat before my father, " I love you dad" I said.

He smiled and his wrinkled hands made soft creasing sounds like paper over my head.

I sat there for a couple of minutes while he smoked...I inhaled the greys of tobacco mixed with worries. A long trail of white dispersed in air. The sunlight called for me when my sight fell on the window, I had to leave.
I bathed in the sun tranquil and still.
My arms reaching above to feel the fragrance. A smooth, warm smell of
Fresh bread.

I instantly trudged way to the kitchen.

Awan was baking.

"Good morning Miss" he greeted with his chapped lips.

"Morning....is it bread?"

"Oh yes, since you come from the city I thought you must be missing a loaf"

Oh, I was.

"I cannot bake, I am miserable at baking" I confessed.

He smiled, he smiles excessively.

"You would cook?" I asked him sitting in a corner observing him kneading another batch of dough.

"I am a chef," he said cross smiling.

Men dice onions and announce themselves a chef.

"Can you cook?" He asked.

" Not much but I can scrabble a decent meal" I replied noticing he adds too much sugar to the bread which is less likely to be my taste.

"That's a lot of sugar, I do not like sweet bread" I cut him off.

"Oh this is for me to take home" he laughed.

I sieve through his recipe.

"Your mum allowed me" he unnecessarily defends

"I don't really mind"

He wasn't an amateur, knew the art of knife well. He had an old school music player, it was from the early 2000s.
He had it shoved in his pocket but his earplugs were always hanging loose.

I was about to leave when he questioned: "Is this place kind to you?"

I thought a little before I spoke "It is"

"Then what ails you, Miss?"

My own self, I thought.

Gradually I was learning the way of life here.

When I pause this evening and take a few steps back and stare at this old Mansion, I see grandpa and grandma with their son happy, a dreamlike reality that has passed.

They loved Sidratul Muntaha.
Why must I complain, all I need and all that is left with me now is here.

I accepted this strange green grey walls as my home.
Although I prayed every time to return to the city I looked forward to the discovery in this somber parade.

The fountain was at large beautiful and exquisite however not taken care of, it had cracks. The base was hand sculpted mastery of the Morrocan floral art. The trees were dark but shade they gave rather bright and soothing. The company of lilies and dandelions alike was something different.

Days passed and silence once again grew large. It was inside and outside of the Mansion. Like our city home, quiet.

I often strolled in the garden and looked back, the architecture so mesmerizing and affluent but so dull and callous.

I seldom met Awan, he merged in the sameness of the house, I became familiar with him being around.
When you get used to someone or something, it becomes less valuable in your sight.

I was aware of my own weaknesses also the fact that I am sluggish and lethargic. The limitations that I cannot occupy myself with work.

I'd often catch myself crying in the garden for what reason I did not know and this moment was the same when Awan sat next to me.

"Why are you crying?" He asked.

"Can you please leave" I shrieked.

He clambered off.

I saw the mazarine sky turn russet, like flavourful air turn auspicious, I asked what I wanted but oh this silence....this silence fills.....

~~~~~~

"Where were you last evening?"

"In the garden" I answered not looking at her.

"You spend almost all your time there" she spectates the dullness " do you miss grandma ?"

"Mum, I don't forget her"

"I know you don't like living with us but Laraib you have to bear us till you get married"

"That's such a coarse statement mother!" I held her hand "I do not think of you such, I apologize for my behavior"

She smiled and took her hands away.
Blood bond strangers.
I was sorry that the pit hole time has dug we could not fill with words.

"Things have been so strange Laraib for us," she said staring out the farstretched fields "so strange for one to put in words, you do not owe anybody an apology, if anybody does have to apologize then it'd be all of us"

I blinked, sighed and then joined her in the vacant stare.

At dinner, my hands and legs felt more numb than usual and so mother had Awan stay till dinner and had him lay out the dishes.

He was rather uninterested and had little efforts but none critiqued him, he wasn't excellent in any work he would do but average.

He stood at the side while we ate, my parents are acclimated to this, however, I am not.

"Mum ask him to join"I whispered.

She looked at me and slightly shook her head.

"Awan cast this away" my father handed him a paper.

We ate uncomfortably.

Only when he left did I felt relief.

I lumbered in the kitchen.
He was doing the dishes.

"You should have joined us for dinner" I awkwardly said.

"Oh no I promised myself to never dine with chuffed fancy people"

I was bewildered.

"You took offense?" He asked my state.

I did not answer.

"Did I not mention I despise rich people?" He went on and then he chuckled like a little devil in his inflated sweater.

I shook my head, he really does know how to offend.

"Miss?"

He called as I left the kitchen to leave with all heavy feelings of grudge and provocation put me to an unsettling sleep.