Omar
Somewhere between struggling to catch my breath and replaying Madi's father's words in my head, I must have drifted off to sleep on my sofa. The next thing I knew, my 6 am alarm was blaring, and the morning sun was pouring in through the windows. Its rays danced on the shattered glass - a stark reminder of the events from the previous evening.
No matter how much I wished that my nightmares remained a figment of my imagination, just my subconscious worrying itself over nothing, there was nothing imaginary about that moment in my life. My nightmares were coming true, and this time I wasn't sure I could save myself from being wholly consumed by them.
It took me another half hour to drag myself off the sofa and splash some water on my face. I cleaned up the broken glass and then got into the shower, letting the hot water be a temporary distraction. If the water hadn't run cold, I might just have stayed in there forever. Or at least long enough for me to be too late to my ER shift that morning, giving me a reason to not go to work at all.
One more day, my heart begged as I finally stepped out and put my clothes on.
Let's just pretend yesterday didn't happen, my mind fed its own delusions.
However, this would only serve as a temporary postponement of the inevitable. I knew I would have to talk to Madi about my conversation with her father, and the sooner I addressed it, the better it would be for both of us.
Rip the Band-Aid off, as they say.
*******
"Today is the day, man," I felt a slap on my back as soon as I put down my bag in the ER locker room. It was Elijah, in an uncharacteristic jubilant state.
The day I rip my heart out? Yes. Yes, it is. I wanted to say, but I am glad I didn't. It would only have dampened a true cause for celebration.
"Day for what?"
"The vaccine trial starts today, did you not sign up?"
Of course, I did. I even had an appointment set up. It was just that everything had just been a blur since yesterday including the date and day of the week. I shook my head to clear the gloom, even if temporarily. Now was not the time to succumb to my despondent soul.
"My appointment is at noon, I just forgot what day it was today."
"Well, good you signed up early," Elijah remarked while adjusting his N95. "I heard your friend Salman couldn't get in. That list filled up so quickly."
"Oh that's terrible for him."
Elijah didn't know Salman well enough for us to discuss his fear of infecting his wife and daughter. I was really hoping with the vaccine he could put his fears aside. But his issues were private. All I could hope was that Noor was hanging in there.
After my co-intern left the locker room, there were still a few minutes left till the ER shift officially started so I decided to text my childhood friend and ask how she was doing. She replied soon after.
Noor: Ok, I guess. Mostly working from home. We don't have a nanny for Ayah so I take care of her while doing online clinic.
Me: Yikes , how do you manage that?
Noor: Its a struggle.
Noor: Anyway...how are you? Any luck with your parents?
Me: No.
That is all I could answer if I was to have any semblance of normalcy in the hours to come. I couldn't let myself drown in personal misery, when I was barely able to float in the rigors of the busy ER shift.
Me: But I'll be fine.
That was a lie. I was never going to be fine. Yet, it was a lie that I was good at convincing others of. Just like the last time. Except then, a woman who I thought I loved walked away because unlike me she had the courage to pursue what she desired. Now, I was the weakling who couldn't control anything in his life.
Tumhari kismet mein khushi hai hi nahi, Omar. Maan lo yeh baat. Even my conscience mocked me. For once, I was inclined to believe it. (You are not destined to have any happiness, accept it.)
I had started to put my phone away when it pinged again.
It was the 7 am COVID update email for all the residents, sent by Madi. Out of habit, I opened it, skimmed through the main news updates and policy reminders, and quickly got to the bottom of the email - to the 'secret' message she said she always left for me. Usually, those messages made me smile. Today, I simply stilled at the words she had quoted.
"I already know what giving up feels like. I want to see what happens if I don't." – Neila Rey
Hang in there guys, don't give up. Tomorrow always brings a fresh start and renewed hope.
Stay safe.
Sincerely, Madiha Ahmed.
"I do know what it feels like to give up," I muttered to myself. The question was, what would happen if I didn't?
*******
The rest of my shift was spent suturing and bandaging people who had been at the overnight protests that had broken out against police brutality, along with those that came in with signs and symptoms of COVID. Dealing with others who had problems way bigger than my own, helped me forget the gut-wrenching pain inside me, just for a little while.
Given Chicago's own struggles with over-policing and discriminatory policies, I wasn't surprised to see the protests stemming from the death of one man in another state reverberate through our city. The nationwide movement touched even the healthcare systems that were starting to acknowledge how their policies and practices marginalized minorities, particularly people of color.
Though, starting to was the key point.
"My heart goes out to all these people," my attending said, as he examined the arm of a patient whose wound I had just sutured. "But I wish they would stay peaceful. Even we had a kneel-down demonstration against racism outside the hospital. Everyone remained calm. I don't understand where all this anger in the protesters is coming from."
The patient, a young African-American man, immediately replied in a polite but firm voice, "Doc, I don't think you realize what a privileged statement that is. Staying calm is not easy when there is literally, and figuratively, a gun being held to your head all the time. Anger is not an emotion we are born with, it is a product of years of subjugation and dehumanization."
"People like me..." he gestured to his own dark skin, before returning his gaze to my light-skinned attending, "value your support, but please, let it not be a mere token gesture. Kneeling with us holds no meaning if you rise and leave everything unchanged, because any disruption to the status quo inconveniences you."
My attending remained silent, and after an awkward pause, he shifted the conversation to instructing the patient on how to care for his bandaged arm. Then, he excused himself from the room. I, on the other hand, couldn't help but be struck by the patient's resilience and articulate expression despite the subtle racism he had just experienced.
"I am sorry about that," I told him when we were alone. "You'd think doctors would know exactly why there is so much anger in the Black community."
"We're used to it," the young man smiled. "All I can hope for, is that our generation is more aware, more willing to question, and more courageous in the face of injustice."
Hope. A word that had all but faded from my existence in the last 12 hours, now seemed to be reemerging, cropping up again and again. In the patient's impassioned plea, in the determined look in the eyes of his comrades, and in the way that difficult conversations were being engaged in within this ER and outside. It was a glimmer, however faint, that change was possible, that understanding could bridge divides. And in that moment, I clung to it, allowing a spark of optimism about the world at large, to rekindle within me.
I am sure Madi would have so much to say about that. I thought to myself.
For a moment, I couldn't help but smile as thoughts of her crossed my mind. But then, the weight of the impending, heart-wrenching conversation loomed. In just a few hours, after our shifts concluded, I knew I would have to face her and the message her father wanted me to give her.
Yet, was I really willing to give up having soul deep conversations with, reveling in her intellect as much as the passion that infused her voice when she spoke of matters close to her heart?
"Ready?"
A voice jolted me back to reality. I looked at my watch, it was almost noon and Elijah was asking the attending if both of us could be excused for a few minutes so we could get our shots. Whether that was the trial vaccine, or just some salt water squirted into our muscle, we wouldn't be able to tell. But that was the nature of the experiments we had agreed to be a part of when we signed up.
"You both signed up?" the attending asked, looking somewhat surprised.
"Yes, should we not have?" Elijah asked him.
"Well, there are a lot of unknowns. My wife forbid me to enroll myself but I applaud your courage. Also..." he chuckled, "you two clearly don't have wives."
"Actually Madi -" I started speaking reflexively before stopping, realizing that she is not my wife, and may never be my wife.
But the cat was out of the bag, "Madi what?" Elijah asked as if Madi being my wife was an accepted fact, leaving me no choice but to finish my answer.
"Madi would have signed up too, but she already has COVID antibodies now since she got infected and that makes her ineligible for the trial."
"Ah that makes sense," the attending replied while giving me an elbow bump. "But I am so very glad you and Madi are together. I've known her since she was a med student, and let me tell you this, I know of no one more courageous than that girl. I even use her as a role model for my own daughters."
If I hadn't had my mask on, everyone in that ER would have been a witness to the beaming expression on my face, maybe they could still see the pride I felt for her in my eyes because she was a role model for me too. In every way possible.
"Madi sure is courageous," Elijah said as we made our way to the vaccine clinic. "Remember when she stood up to Liam because he kept harassing Jake?"
"I do, I was with her then."
"And I heard she took care of this man with Nazi tattoos, even saved his life without so much as flinching despite him abusing her."
"I do, I was there with her then as well."
Elijah kept talking about how lucky I was to have her, while I kept quiet. My own mind reliving those moments that I had fallen in love with her, bit by bit, as her courage and determination gave me the hope I so desperately sought amidst my own chaotic life.
Questions kept swirling within me; what was I doing by giving in so easily to her father's demand? Did a woman as courageous as her not deserve a man who would fight for her with everything he had? Was my love for her not strong enough to withstand everything life threw at us?
Would she even choose Faraz, if she had the choice?
"We're here," Elijah exclaimed.
"Go ahead, I just need to make a quick call," I replied, taking out my phone.
She answered almost immediately. "Hi Omar," her voice rang through the phone, and I could picture her smiling face. That soft, serene tone carried the unmistakable cadence of a woman deeply in love, a sentiment that I could feel in my very bones.
"Hey Madi. Listen, I have a quick question for you."
"What question?"
"If you had the choice between any man in this world and me, who would you choose?"
Her response was swift, without a moment's hesitation. "You. Always."
When she inquired why I was asking, I couldn't help but chuckle. A significant weight had lifted off my shoulders. The fog that had clouded my senses since yesterday dispersed, and in that newfound clarity, all I could see was her, and us.
"I was just checking. Though I am not going to be able to grab coffee after work today."
"Oh, did something come up?"
"Yes," I told her, "a long over due meeting." She didn't ask for more, I didn't offer more.
Soon after, I joined Elijah and rolled up my sleeve. The nurse administered a syringe labeled with the study number. The slight pain my co-intern and I felt was immediately eclipsed by the gravity of the moment. Beneath our masks, I knew we were both grinning, aware of the profound impact this small act of ours could have.
"Any idea when I'll start to mutate and my wings will come in?" my friend asked in jest.
"As soon as my horns start growing." I laughed.
Perhaps I had received the actual vaccine, or maybe it was just a placebo. I could get side effects, or nothing might happen at all. Regardless, we were among the fortunate few who could genuinely say that we had done everything in our power to contribute to ending a pandemic that had ravaged entire populations across the globe.
That evening as I stood in front of Madi's parent's house in the suburbs, I told myself the same thing again. Maybe I could convince them to give me a chance, or maybe I couldn't. But there was absolutely no way I would surrender the best part of my life without investing every ounce of effort into our relationship.
*******
"Abu is not going to be happy to see you," the young man said. Barely in his early 20s he stood at the doorstep with his arms crossed over his chest. Without a mask on, his pursed lips made it clear what Madi's younger brother thought of me.
"Could you just call him, Moin. Please."
He shrugged and left me standing there till moments later when the door opened again, and Madi's father stepped out.
"Assalamu Alaikum," he greeted politely. I sensed it was more of a habitual gesture than a genuine willingness to engage with me.
"Walaikum Asalaam, Uncle. I-" He cut me off and got straight to the point, as usual.
"Did you talk to Madiha?"
I simply shook my head.
"Why not?"
"Because, Ahmed uncle. I cannot look at her and tell her in all honesty, that she would be better off with anyone besides me."
"Faraz bhai -" Moin started to say. I ignored the kid, and focused on the father.
"I can't speak for Faraz, nor do I know what is in his heart. But I can tell you this. No one will respect your daughter more than me, or care for her, or protect her. Or see the real her, through the façade she likes to put up. Neither would anyone be willing to sacrifice everything just to see her smile, the way I am." I replied in one breath. Yet, I wasn't done.
"I know you have concerns about my family, but I never chose my parents. Or hold much sway over their morals and decisions," I sighed. It was a painful reality, that I had come to accept.
"Please..." I went on, "trust that I understand her rights over me, as much as I understand my duties towards her. And I can say with absolute certainty that I will stand between my parents and her, even if they reject me as their son."
"Abu are you just going to stand here listening to him tell you what to do?" Moin said, taking a step towards me.
I might not have known her brother well, yet I couldn't blame him for his aggressiveness. If I put myself in his shoes and Sehr in Madi's, I was sure I would have reservations about a man whose family didn't accept my sister either.
To my surprise though, Uncle held him back and addressed me directly.
"Kyun karoge yeh sub kuch uss ke liye?" (Why would you do all this for her?)
"Mein uss ke wajood ke her hisse se mohabat karta hun, Uncle." I told him, the simple honest truth. "Whether its her courage and confidence or the moments of quiet insecurities and hidden fears. You told me that romance between a couple disappears in 5 to 10 years. But I can assure you, I will never stop loving your daughter in entirety." (I love every part of her existence)
The silence that followed was thick with unspoken emotion as I felt the weight of my words hang in the air. Madi's father remained inscrutable; his thoughts a mystery. In my own mind though, never did I feel more committed to his beautiful daughter than I was in that moment.
No road to eternal bliss is ever a simple or straightforward one. But it is worth every twist, every turn, and every uphill climb. I had to believe that Madi and my road was a testament to the resilience of our love as well. A love that was built on courage and filled with hope.
"Abu, didn't you say Faraz bhai's parents are coming over today with an official proposal?" Moin broke the silence.
It took Ahmed Uncle a moment of quietly staring at the ground, but when he finally looked up at me and spoke, the abrasive edge in his voice was obviously missing. Or maybe I was grasping at straws and my desperate heart was being delusional.
All I knew was that when he looked at his son and said, "I'll ask them to postpone - for now," I breathed a sigh of relief.
Madi and I had survived another day.
*******
Short-ish chapter, but hope you liked Omar's moment of courage! Did it make an impact on Ahmed Uncle? That remains to be seen.
You may recognize some of the real events described in this chapter. It was a moment of hopelessness for many in the US at that time. Much like many people feel hopeless these days. Yet humanity persevered. I can only hope and pray that humanity perseveres today as well.
Please vote and comment!