The Flying Dreams

CHAPTER TWO

I laughed at that, he followed. I didn't tell him I liked what he said— about taking names and all. I would be taking his name and surname as my own, soon I would not be just Adia Farooqi, I would be Adia Wahab Siddiqui, and while he only joked— it felt right. It might not be a big deal but I have always felt like if you take someone's name and put it as your own— you accept them for who they are— their whole identity becomes yours and Wahab accepting my identity as I was taking his gave me a pleasant feeling. But that was a joke and I knew where his limitations of being open-minded and supporting ended. I was not going to try my luck with him.

'So—'

'I don't like that so.'

He grinned, 'So, my cousin— she would meet you at the platform and look, I don't want to come as a controlling man because you know I'm not but Shifa is— well, she is a lot different than you. She is not simple-minded, and I would really appreciate it if you— you know? Try not to be too influenced by her, alright?'

I got the hint of what he was too polite to say directly on my face. Simple-minded? He could have said fool. I smiled and nodded.

'Alright, I would try to just mind my own business. But can I ask you something?'

He looked surprised for a second before smiling, his smile was the most distracting thing ever.

'Why are sending me to live with her then? If you don't like her.'

'It's not that I don't like her, Adia. I just don't think she would be a good company for you, but I had no choice, your father had already discussed the matter with my father, and it was settled that you'd be staying with her in her apartment before I could say no.'

I thought he was the one who chose the place for me— he used to tell me stories of his time when he was in college in Delhi— he went there to do study biotech and he always sounded so excited to tell me how much fun he had had there and all the rendezvous with his friends. He talked a lot of his time in college, so, I just assumed he chose it for me. He said I would have loved it there, especially the college festivals. I asked him what that was and he just grinned and said nothing. I hated it when he would start a story but won't give me an ending— though, he loved leaving me hanging on the strings of what is and what was.

'What was your first choice for me, then?'

'Here. Of course, I mean the medical college isn't as good, but I think it might suit you better and you won't have to live on your own.'

'So, you're not really happy with it?'

He sighed. Sometimes it was hard what his constant sighs meant. He sighed a lot, I have observed, he did that more often when he was alone with me. And I had no notion of what he meant or what he wanted to say. I always sighed when I couldn't express my opinion on something or when I was frustrated. What was his give?

'I am okay with it but no, not really happy but you know what? Let's not talk about it. I want to ask you something— ', he waited for my approval, I gave a nod of my head, 'Please tell me about everything. Just make sure to keep me updated, okay?'

'Of course.'

We talked for some more time until our parents informed us that the train was, at last, about to arrive. I picked my bag from Wahab's side and stood up while he remained seated. His mother hugged me for the last time and her husband caressed my hijab-clad hair. I went to my own mother and she asked what did Wahab say. Her features were twisted with nervousness on my behalf. Whenever Wahab and I talked on phone, she would pester me until I told her everything he had asked or said and what was my response to his questionnaire. It was irritating but I apprehended why she did that— she was afraid for me.

'Nothing specifically, Ummi.'

She was not very content with the reply, but she nodded a bit stiffly. She was the most concerned for me. Her daughter, who had never stayed a night alone on her own was going miles away, I got her reason to worry but she had taught me and gave every possible advice, I believed I would be okay. Her eyes were watery and before I cried by just seeing her face, I moved to my father, who gave me the phone. I put it safely in my bag. Wahab was putting my suitcases on the train and it made me wonder how I would pull them out on my own. As he continued to make sure I was comfortable in my seat, I couldn't help but feel like I was making a mistake. A medical school minimum took six years and it meant I had to put off the marriage for another six years, which could work for the worst and I would never know until I returned and found Wahab still single and in love with me. I just hoped that nothing would change and made a promise to talk to him as much as I could. I was not insecure about him, but I was well aware of the mothers who would try to snatch him right under my nose for their daughters. And Wahab, though being the most loving man on the planet of the earth— was still a man of needs and I felt like I was making him wait too much. He was considerate enough to let me study further but I was not being as much understanding of his wants.