This is a completely re-written chapter! Please let me know what you think 😊
Madiha
"What do you mean we are having a Nikah in two weeks?", I looked at my smiling father, in complete shock myself, "We weren't supposed to get married till after I finish residency and Jawad finishes his MBA"
"I know, but Bhai and Bhabi will be coming to the US at the end of this month and wanted to make things official. What's the harm in it? You've already said yes to this marriage", Abu replied.
Ami had appeared in the foyer by now and put her hand on my cheek, "Madi its just a Nikah beta, we'll do the rukhsati later after you both finish your studies. Don't worry, nothing will change"
I stood still in the foyer looking at the happy and relaxed faces of my parents, and the delighted ones of my siblings. Ami was right, for them nothing would change. Yet, for me everything would.
I would lose the one thing that I had desperately tried to hold on to this whole month. Time.
Time to decide what I wanted from life outside of the hospital's walls. To understand why I was so repulsed by a man who seemed so perfect for me on paper. To convince my parents that for once in my life I wasn't sure that they knew what was best for me.
I was out of time too, to figure out why my hand still tingled from an intern's touch or why I could still smell his musk scent and feel his warmth even though he had held me for a mere five seconds. And why, oh why, did I want to rewind time so badly to the exact moment I had let myself go in his arms, and freeze it there so I would always have him to lean on.
The answer was staring me straight in the face. But so were my parents and siblings as they threw questioning glances at me and each other.
I shook my head, "I can't deal with this right now. I've had the worst day possible. So please let's talk about this tomorrow"
No one stopped me as I trudged up the stairs and collapsed on to my bed. But the thing about dealing with uncomfortable truths tomorrow is that you still have to deal with them. And the answer to your question may not be what you're looking for.
Omar
I was back home, continuing what I had intended to do 2 hours ago: get into bed and fall asleep before my head hit the pillow. Except now I was in bed staring at the shadows on my roof made by the city lights streaming in through my windows, and sleep wasn't even remotely on my mind.
Instead, I replayed the events of the day in my head. So much had happened that it should have been like a reel on a loop; with me almost punching a resident, then arguing with Noor's husband, then telling her that he loved her, then escorting their baby to her new home. But it didn't take me long to realize that the only part of my day's narrative that I couldn't get out of my head started with a phone call and ended with her in my arms.
That single hour was the part of my day that I relived on a loop.
And that is what made me bury my face deeper into the pillow.
A sense of déjà vu overtook. It seemed that despite everything I had gone through, the unending pain and agony, my heart had stubbornly refused to learn from its mistakes. I was doing it again; pining after an unavailable woman.
"What the eff is wrong with me?", I sat up and threw a pillow across the room in frustration. I had always thought that coming to this God forsaken institution was a mistake. I never realized it was because I would somehow end up digging a deeper hole for myself than ever before.
But I knew just what to do now. I had made a life plan before I came here and it was time to get right back on the path to achieve it.
Grabbing my laptop I pulled up the website for surgical residency applications. I had already been working on it before my ICU rotation started. Whether it was laziness or hope for something with a someone I hadn't touch the application since this rotation started. Now though, the writing on the wall was clear.
I had to get out of this city asap.
*******
The Next Morning
5:30 am. Shut up stupid phone. I hit snooze
5:35 am. Why won't this stupid thing shut up? I hit snooze
5:45 am. Two more minutes, then I'll get up. I hit snooze.
6:10 am. Oh God, I am late! Damn it! Stupid phone. Why didn't my alarm go off?
6:40 am in the ICU residents room. "Madi, so sorry I am late. My alarm didn't go off this morning"
"That's ok, I just got here too", Madi replied, looking at me with red rimmed puffy eyes. It was obvious she hadn't slept much either. But had she also been crying? My heart was desperate to ask her more. But my mind had had enough of listening to it.
When I sat on the work station next to her, she got up and asked in a hushed tone, "Kylie and her intern are still signing out to the other team, I am going to run and get some coffee. Do you want something from the food court?"
There was something wrong with her, I knew for sure then. I had never heard her talk in such a pained voice. But I ignored my intuition again. I had a vow to keep, a future that I was convinced I had to pursue without her. So I kept quiet and declined her offer.
You don't feel anything for her, I told myself stubbornly.
*******
The overnight team had reported that Noor had a relatively stable night. They were able to take her off epinephrine, the medicine that was helping her heart pump, and her blood pressures had remained stable. They were also able to decrease the ventilator settings, which meant that her lungs were starting to recover.
On rounds Salman was at her bedside, and he nodded to Madi and I as soon as we entered the room. He was holding himself together remarkably well, given everything that had happened. I had to admit too that I was a little surprised at the speed with which I was developing respect for this man. But I guess that was life; unpredictable, yet miraculous, as long as you kept an open mind.
But keep your heart closed, I warned myself too.
While the attending listened to Noor's lungs, Salman said to us, "Do you want to see my daughter's pictures?"
Madi nodded but remained quiet, so unlike her.
"Absolutely", I answered instead.
He whipped out his phone and proudly scrolled through pictures of his tiny daughter in her incubator. As tired as he was, and as stressful as his family's situation was, his fatherly glow was shining through bright and clear.
"She is adorable", Madi exclaimed, finally coming to life. But I averted my gaze from her. I wanted no part of her life.
"Do you guys want to come see her with me after you're done with rounds?", Salman asked.
"I'd love to", she answered immediately.
"I guess I can come too", I replied hesitantly.
*******
To get to the children's hospital we had to go through the food court that connected the two buildings on the 3rd floor. Yes, the same food court I had diligently avoided over the last 2.5 months that I had been in that institution, so I wouldn't have to think about Noor.
Ironically, now as I crossed it, I willed myself to think of Noor and her daughter. To keep my mind off Noor's best friend and the way that woman's curls bounced when she walked ahead of me. And to control the urge to hold her hand in mine and tell her that she deserved better than a man who would yell at her in the middle of the hospital.
How can life change so quickly? I wondered as we entered the children's hospital which looked like a different world altogether. The walls had colorful murals on them, humans of all sizes roamed the corridors and there were little play areas randomly situated in the hallways.
"Every time I come here, I wonder why our adult hospitals have to be in shades of white and grey only. Who said adults don't like color?", Madi said, shaking her head.
"Adults are boring", Salman chuckled.
"Speak for yourself old man", I replied to him.
She laughed under her breath. It was a sound that I had found myself daydreaming of in the past few weeks. Today I wished I hadn't replied to Salman at all.
*******
"Look little one, your daddy is here", a woman in pink scrubs said to a tiny infant in her arms. I had seen the baby yesterday, but then she was covered in blankets and I hadn't been able to appreciate how small she really was.
While I was still standing there mesmerized by baby girl Noor, I saw Salman start to take off his t-shirt with his back towards us, right in the middle of the neonatal ICU.
What the hell is he doing? I stole a glance at Madi who was looking down at her phone. Except her phone's screen wasn't even on. I avoided saying anything to her.
Salman must have realized that the two of us were flabbergasted at his actions, because he laughed as he sat down on a chair next to his daughter's incubator with his daughter in just a diaper cuddling on his bare chest.
"Oh for God's sake guys, don't tell me you've never seen this happen before"
"A reasonable grown man who is not a patient take off his shirt in the middle of an ICU? No, never seen that happen before. Thankfully", Madi answered before I could.
"Its called kangaroo care. Studies have shown that putting premature babies on to their parent's skin, so that they have direct skin-to-skin contact, helps them calm down, feed and sleep better and even improve their breathing pattern. This is literally why kangaroos have that little pouch where baby kangaroos stay"
"Oh, that makes sense. I can safely say that if you tried to do this with an adult patient you would get sued for inappropriate behavior", I told him.
The nurse then hooked up a little syringe to a gastric tube that went in to baby girl Noor's nose and into her stomach. She was too small to feed with a bottle, so the gastric tube was the next best thing to get nutrition into her.
"Is that formula milk?", Madi asked.
"No actually its donor breastmilk", the nurse told us.
Salman looked at us smugly, "And before you ask, yes breastmilk is donated to the neonatal ICU by mothers who have excess milk, for infants of moms who can't produce breastmilk themselves. Its a lot better for the premature gut than regular formula, that's why we pasteurize the donor breastmilk and give it babies like my daughter"
That sounded like a scientifically sound concept, except for one thing; in Islam, if a woman breastfeeds multiple children, they are considered siblings, through milk kinship, and are therefore prohibited from getting married.
"So do you know who the milk comes from?", I asked.
"It most cases it comes from an anonymous donor"
"So she'll have to just avoid getting married to someone who was born in Chicago. I am assuming the milk comes from local moms?"
Salman nodded, "Yes, it does. But we could also just ask his mom if she ever donated milk"
"Yup, though that would be a very awkward conversation with a future mother-in-law", I laughed internally thinking of how my prim and proper mother would respond if someone asked her that question. They would surely be escorted out of the house.
I had more opinions on baby girl Noor's marriage too but then I heard Madi snicker in the background. Salman and I both turned to look at her, and saw her holding her hand over her mouth as she physically tried to stop herself from laughing.
"Do you guys realize that she is less than a day old, and you're planning her marriage? She doesn't even have a name yet. Maybe start there", Madi said, looking at Salman and for the first time that morning she even smiled at me.
I would have sighed and given in to my heart's desire to smile back at her, or found the humor in how Salman was discussing his daughter's future with me of all people, but his solemn voice broke through the debate my heart and mind were embroiled in.
"You're right maybe she should have a name first. But that is not something I am willing to do without Noor"
Madi was immediately at his side, "I know she is still critically ill, but she is heading in the right direction. Just take it one day at a time"
"That's easier said than done", he replied quietly.
We stayed for a few more minutes marveling at how baby girl Noor, tried to raise her tiny head and turn towards her father's voice every time he spoke. She knew who he was, even if she was less than a day old.
Finally, Madi and I said goodbye to him but as were about to leave, he spoke up again, "Has anyone ever told you guys, the two of you are great together"
What the heck? We can never be together.
I could feel the heat rise in my face, and saw Madi swing around to face him just as I did with a deep frown on her face, "Salman...", she started to say.
"...as an ICU team", he smiled coyly as he looked at Madi and then me, "what did you think I was saying?"
Is he for he real?
"We are just doing our job as a resident and an intern", she muttered and was out of the NICU before I could react.
Madiha
Stupid Salman, I grumbled under my breath as I hurried out of that NICU with flushed cheeks and a racing heart. But his words said in the presence of an intern were drowned out by the conversation from that morning; between me, my father and his future son-in-law.
***Flashback***
5:00 am. My alarm had gone off some time ago, I had prayed Fajr but gotten back into bed not wanting to leave its comfort and face the world just yet. Sleep had been restless and my dreams vivid - darkness punctuated by a hand holding mine only to let go and disappear. There were no faces, no voices, but I knew who it was.
A knock on my door forced me to finally get out of bed.
"Abu, why are you awake at this hour?", I asked my father who stood there holding a phone in his hand.
"I couldn't sleep after Fajr", he replied softly, "You didn't seem happy last night at our decision to do the Nikah, and I think I know why"
"You do?", I gulped in low-key panic. How could he possibly know about Omar? I wondered.
But I had no reason to panic as Abu pointed towards his phone, and I noticed he had Jawad on the call - on mute.
"I just called Jawad and he was up for Fajr, so I spoke to him about your reservations. He assured me that he will never misbehave with you again or hinder your career in anyway", he handed me the phone, "Talk to him Madi beta. And if you still do not want to marry him I will stand by you"
Abu left me standing alone in my room, with no choice but to unmute the phone.
"How come you're up so early?", I asked him remembering how he had once said that he never woke up for Fajr.
"Its time for Fajr obviously. I was about to go back to sleep when your father called", he said with a stifled laugh, "You really need to trust me more now that we'll be husband and wife"
"You haven't give me much reason to trust you lately"
"I know Madi. And like I told uncle I am sorry for that. I have been so busy at work these days and MBA has just gotten harder with every semester, I am under a lot of stress. It came out on you when I came to Chicago, but I swear upon my life that will never happen again", he said in a slow deliberate voice.
That wasn't enough for me though, I needed more reassurance. It was 5:30 am and I knew I needed to get out of my home soon to catch the train but this was perhaps the most important conversation of my life. So I sat down on my bed.
"I want to able to apply to fellowship anywhere I want. And not just limit myself to New York", I brought up something I wished I had earlier.
"Ok. You can apply anywhere you want Madi"
"No matter where I apply my life will not be flexible. In fact first year of fellowship is almost as tough as first year of residency", I told him truthfully.
"Ok"
"I am never going to be the typical housewife, Jawad. I need you to understand that", I reiterated what I had said to him when I agreed to this marriage. He hummed an 'okay' again. Just like he did for every demand I made afterwards.
"Madi, let's just get married first. Everything you are saying can be dealt with later", he interrupted with an obvious hint of irritation.
"These things are important to me, Jawad. I need to know that you will not suddenly have a problem with my career after I am your wife"
He paused, I heard him suck in a breath and fully expected him to make a snide remark. Instead, he lowered his voice, "I can assure you that you will get everything you want after we get married. But right now the sun is about to come up and I would love to catch some sleep..."
Suddenly the sound of loud music drowned his voice out and I could hear some whispers in the back. A moment later that sound was gone.
"What was that?", I immediately asked.
"Nothing, just some neighbors. I had to step out of my apartment to take your call. I don't get very good reception inside", he said quickly.
I wasn't sure what to think of it but when I looked at my watch it was 5:50 am and the sun was about to come up. I had already missed my train too.
***End***
I ended up finishing that call quickly and taking an Uber to work that morning just as the sun was rising over the horizon. The quiet ride to work, though expensive, let me mull over the questions my father had asked on my way out.
Was I now comfortable with the Nikah with Jawad? Or was there something else holding me back? Abu had asked me quietly. His voice did not lack sincerity, and I knew he would always have my back. But I wasn't blind to what my refusal would mean for my father. And my mother for that matter.
It would mean starting the whole cycle of looking for proposals for me all over again. Answering the endless questions about why I was in my late 20s and not yet married. Or ignoring the comments that many made about why daughters shouldn't be allowed to study so much.
It would mean having to listen to the taunts of my extended family, because an ordinary looking girl had broken her engagement with a man who might as well have been a runway model. For them I was the lucky one. Girls were dying to marry Jawad yet he had somehow chosen me.
And all that would be for what? Just an intuition that Jawad wasn't sincere when he answered my questions this morning?
Is a gut feeling enough of a reason to put your parents through humiliation?
I was still trying to answer these questions when the elevator arrived and I got in and pressed the 15th floor button. The doors started to close. I leaned against the side and shut my eyes knowing that at some point I would have to face the second question Abu had asked that morning; is there something else holding me back?
The sudden sound of footsteps made me open my eyes again. The elevator doors were almost closed but someone stuck an arm in and they opened again. I caught my breath when I saw who it was. But my concern for his safety overtook any reluctance I had to engage with him.
"Sticking your arm into an elevator's closing door is a very stupid thing to do", I told him, deliberately avoiding his gaze.
"You don't need to care about me", he replied dryly.
I stole a glance at him. It was obvious he hadn't slept much either. His ruffled hair and yawning lips were a dead give away. But how could I not care about him? Or forget the way he had cared last night?
Or deny that more than Jawad's insincerity it was Omar's genuineness that was holding me back?
"Why did you come to the train station last night?", I asked him when we got off the elevator on the 15th floor.
He shrugged while we walked in the empty hallway towards the residents workroom, "Anyone would have come after hearing their senior resident call for help"
"I think most interns would have just called the police", I told him.
"Then I would have done it for any resident who had called for help", he shook his head.
The firmness of his tone, the coldness in his gaze that refused to meet mine, answered my question more than his words ever could. Something shattered inside me, and the walls I had been so good at building around my heart refused to raise themselves, leaving me so vulnerable it hurt.
I understood why I felt that way though. Omar had given me that answer a while ago.
Love is vulnerability, he had said.
Today, I agreed with him.
I stopped walking, "I am having a Nikah in two weeks", my voice cracked but I didn't care. I needed him to know that.
He paused but only for a moment and didn't even look at me, "Congratulations. I am hoping to hear back from the surgery programs I applied to in about the same time"
Then he was gone, while I just stood there trying to breathe and hold myself together. I shouldn't have expected anything but that response from him. I had always known that he wanted to leave this residency program and had made it ample clear last night that he was just the intern working with me.
It was stupid and unfair of me to expect more.
I took a deep breath and wiped the tears pooling in my eyes. The walls were finally coming up. You have a major life event to plan for in just two weeks, I told myself defiantly.
"Hey Madi," Kylie's voice startled me, but thankfully she didn't question why I was standing alone in the hallway.
"Are you coming for our virtual meeting with the East Coast residents?"
Kylie and I had volunteered to be a part of the national residents council that aimed at improving the working conditions for residents across the US. Today was our first meeting, at 2 pm.
I looked at my watch. "Its only 1 pm," I told her.
"Yeah 1 pm in Chicago, is 2 pm on the East Coast. They're an hour ahead of us."
"Oh of course," I started following her but abruptly stopped again. New York was on the East Coast and I had completely forgotten about the time difference between Chicago and New York. Now it had suddenly hit me what that meant for Jawad.
"5 am in Chicago is 6 am in New York then, right?"
"Yes. Why?" Kylie looked at me curiously.
"Because 6 am is too late for Fajr in New York. The sun would already have come up. And Jawad is a freaking liar", I replied to her.
*******
Who believes Jawad is a liar? And why would he be lying in the first place?
What do you think about Omar's reaction to all this? Appropriate, or not?
Lots of drama and unsavory truths coming up!
Please vote and comment!!!