Hidden Jewels (Short Stories)

3) The fear of a tear

Published: Monday, February 18th 2019 9:26 am

He never cried. Not once, not ever. A simple tear was frowned upon when it came to him. When it came to men. He was taught that he had to be the strong one. That when the going gets tough, he had to be there to comfort others, mainly women. They never let him have a change to cry. Was he not allowed? No, he wasn't. For years and years it went on, and on it still goes. He doesn't dare to shed a tear.

Ten year old Nabil walked home with a face so glum, his clothes soaked from the storm. His school was only a few blocks away, so a little rain wouldn't hurt him. He could take the rain. He had to take the rain. So he walked, and walked, and walked until he reached his destination. There and back. The world was a scary place, and most things did scare him. But they never knew that. He would never tell that he was scared. Why? Because he wasn't allowed to feel afraid. He was only allowed to show that he wasn't afraid, even though that was a lie.

A year later, the young boy turned eleven and on he walked, home and school like clockwork. His mother would be home doing what he always knew women did. Take care of the house and the children when the men work. Time after time he would see his mother cook and clean. It all looked stressful and hard, he observed. But she did it without a word, so she must like it. She must take it, which is what he always was taught. It was her job to do what she did, and it was his to be like his father.

His father. He did what Nabil was taught that men had to do. Work for money and later come home to a home cooked meal by his wife. Is that what I will become, he thought. Old and never learning to do for myself, continued his thoughts. It seemed like a life of luck. Because one day he wouldn't have someone there for him to do what his mother does for his father. That meant he would have to do for himself. But he couldn't do what his mother does, he just couldn't. He wasn't meant to. But he knew one day, he might have to.

The day his mother got sick was a gloomy day for them all. The house grew darker and his meals turned into whatever packaged meals his father brought home from work. His mother had gone to the hospital where she would stay for as long as the doctors told. He loved his mother, and he missed her. The feeling of her gone hit when he sat at the empty dinner table alone with a package of pre-cooked macaroni in front of him. He wanted to cry. His tears were waiting to make their appearance and show how he really felt. Who expected a child like himself to be immune to feelings? His father. Oh, his father. Did his father have feelings?

"You know she will be fine?" His father said in a gruff voice when he spotted Nabil at the table, his head lowered as he waited for the tears he held back to cascade down his face. The sound of his fathers voice pushed them away, never to return. His face remained blank, emotionless. "No need to cry. We can always visit."

Nabil perked up. "Today?" He asked happily. He hadn't seen her in a few days, and although she had called her at breakfast, it wasn't enough. He needed to see her again.

His father only shook his head. "Soon, maybe. I heard you on the phone with her earlier, so you know she's getting better." He lied.

          Nabil knew he was lying. Because if she was getting better, they would be planning for her to return home.

          "No use in crying because of good news." His father continued, and then he walked away. See? How was he able to show emotion if the person he lives with is emotionless as his father? He wasn't sad anymore, just numb. When would he ever feel again? For days, weeks, and even months he waited to feel again. He waited and waited to have some hope that normal would once again be in his grasp. His mother getting better was the hope and the one thing he leaned on to.