Caged Nightingale

39-Atif

Its been a week since we got back to the city. we seem to have gotten into some sort of routine.

I leave for work and Saara keeps herself busy at home. Does it bother me that she is all alone at home. No. I'm too selfish. I like the thought of her in my living space. On one of the days Asma drops by to keep Saara company. They end up watching a drama on tv together because Saara doesnt want to go out. It is Asma who tells me about Saara's ballet. She walked in on her- whilst she was working out in the gym. 'feet taped up like some homeless person!' she claims.

I dont think much of it, but the next day I watch her on my phone as she goes into the gym. Watch in amazement as she stretches, bends, lifts, twists and turns. I watch her place a hand towel under one foot and sweep it back and forth in a semi circle, all whilst she stands tall, with her shoulder back and head up. She plies at the barre, on her toes lifting and settling- again and again and again. And all to warm up. Then she begins to dance and my heart literally stops. She moves gracefully in the space she has. pirouette on her toes. her balance is extraordinary, Ive never seen anything like it. she lifts her arms, hinges at the hips, leaning forward and sends a slender leg high, straight into the air behind her in a perfect arabesque. I am mesmerised. In awe. I watch her move gracefully, movements which are fluid like water. I watch her jump and extend her legs into what I can only describe as a split in the air, she lands softly on bent knees. I see her wobble and attempt it again and again and again, maybe 10-12 times before she sits and draws in her knees, placing her head in them. She lifts her head and looks straight into the mirror and throws the towel at it and leaves the room.

I sit back in my desk chair. speechless. Reminded that the woman I've been fucking senseless every night is this creature who is unlike any other person I have ever met. We've forged a relaxed, comfortable relationship. Eating, laughing and just letting down our guard. she doesnt wait for me, when I get home she's watching tv or reading in bed or surfing the internet. She tells me what's happening in the drama we have begun watching together. If I arrive late we eat in front of the tv and she shushes me when I try to talk to her during the show. it feels good- it feels 'normal'. I think we've gotten into routine together. Do I want to rush to her. No. Because i know she is mine. . . . for now.

what also strikes me in that moment is the stange hand of fate. How many years has it been since I've been cursing the person who placed that bar across the mirrored wall. when I was working out and looking at my muscles flexing, it annoyed me to the nineth degree that the wooden pole cut right across it, obstructing an otherwise seemless view of the gym. I remember cursing the idiot who had placed it there (on more than one occasion). It had been for her. just waiting for her. I have goosebumps up my arms and my heart is racing in excitment at the thought.

I look at my desk drawer. In the top shelf is an envelope with the passport application. It just needs to be sent off. My chest feels tight at the thought of sending it. The beginning of the end. I realise it's panic and fear creeping up on me. I've just found her. There is so much we havent done together yet. So many things I want to do with her. I can't. I dont want to. I wont let her go. Not yet. Perhaps this will have to be the first promise I break to her.

Perhaps it is the fear of losing her that prompts me to introduce her to my friends a couple of days later. It is a huge risk. I know. Completely risky and completely illogical. But for some reason I want them to meet her. I ask her about it one night after we make love. she mulls it over and hesitates. 'wont they be suspicious?' she asks 'and it seems a little risky.' she says biting her lip.

'If anyone asks, we stick to the story. also wouldnt it be more suspicious not to introduce your friends to your other half- right?'

she continues to contemplate this idea and then nods. 'ok, if you think it's a good idea, lets do it!' The problem is I dont think it is a good idea. But I want to hold onto her in any way I can, with as many memories as I can. Who will remember her but me and Asma when she is gone?