MIKAYLA
. . .
"Here?"
"Shut up for now, Mickey," as that said, he smashes his lips against mine, taking in a deep kiss.
I hold his shoulders as he pins me against the locker. His hand crawls up my hip, holding my waist and caressing ever so softly.
I tilt my head, letting him have better access. I part my lips, allowing his tongue to enter my mouth when a loud banging of the door interrupts us.
Ibzan jerks back, looking at the one who interrupted us. I follow his gaze and really am not surprised to see Mr Blondie standing beside his locker, holding the gloves.
Jerk.
He stares dead into the eyes of Ibzan, muttering, "Are you not coming?"
He is calling Ibzan to join the practice as both are members of the college sports team. Mr Blondie is one the most admired players, more famous for his dumb looks and body which every girl calls hot.
Ibzan is another famous player but not as admired as Blondie but who cares? For me, my Ibzan is better — even the best. This Blondie cannot even compete with him.
"No," Ibzan replies, giving him a quiet smile, "Actually I have classes to attend. I can't risk it for the sake of practice, you know that, Barak."
Blondie hums, still staring at Ibzan like he wants to chew him raw. What's his problem now?
"As you wish." He turns to leave, giving me a short look. I stand firm, giving him a hard glare like I do every time but deep inside, he made me shudder.
His razor-sharp gaze can make anyone shudder, including me, when he looks at anyone with that silent look.
"Barak, you can talk on my behalf. Please, do it. You have the coach's favor," Ibzan requests, knowing very well that Barak will do it as he has done before many times.
He only nods his head before walking away.
"Thank God!" He sighs. "Let's go now," he says, holding my hand.
I smile at him, walking out. We reach the broad way, talking with each other. He tells me about his new skills and the way he is achieving good marks. I am so happy for him. He deserves it, after all, he is a hardworking guy. He deserves everything.
I listen to him silently. I can't help but smile. His smile is the prettiest when he is happy about something, particularly his success, and I want it to stay with him forever.
But another of our sweet moments is interrupted when the basketball comes flying over the fence and hits right at Ibzan's head.
He groans, bending over. The ball falls behind him at a distance. He cups his mouth and when he removes his hand, I see blood.
"Oh no!" I crouch in front of him, immediately grabbing my knapsack and bringing out the water bottle.
"Zan, don't focus down!" I utter and he listens to me. I help him clean his mouth which is filled with blood. His tongue was cut because those dumb players hit him when he was talking.
Mannerless jerks!
After he has cleansed his mouth and gulped down the water, he sighs. Looking at my face, he smiles, "I'm fine, Mickey."
It hurts him when he speaks, and I know it because his face scrunches at the discomfort.
"Don't say anything." I shake my head, taking the bottle. I put it inside my knapsack and I notice a guy jogging over to us to get the ball.
Before he can reach it, I take it and puncture it through the geomantic compass I have in my knapsack. I drop it beside my foot, stepping over it. The guy who reaches me gives me a shocked look, muttering, "Why did you do it?"
"Because you hurt Zan. Are you blind or what? Can't you keep in mind directions, you dumb and worthless jerk!"
"Hey, it wasn't me!" He raises his hands in the air, "It was Barak!" He points to Barak behind his back but I don't look at him.
Guess what? I should have guessed already who could be that real jerk. It is only he who ruins my mood and is always ready to disturb me. Not even for a while he can let me breathe peacefully even after we have grown up.
Pathetic life!
Even after completing school, I am in the same college as him because our parents wanted us to study together, thinking that it would be nice. How wrong!
But see, nice things are happening between us and every day I grit my teeth, desperately wanting to puncture his arms with them. Oh yes, call me wild as he too calls me a wild cat but I don't give a damn about it. I hate Barak!
"Mickey—"
"You won't say anything, Zan." I turn to glare at the boy. "And yeah, take this punctured thing and give it to your leader."
"Of course," he murmurs, grabbing the ruined ball, "I have no other way." He shrugs, passing me a weak smile.
I roll my eyes to the team behind him. Blondie is among them, glaring at me once again. I scrunch my nose and then leave with Ibzan, holding his hand. I feel him drilling holes into my back through those burning eyes but who said that I care?
We walk to the parking lot, taking out my car. Ibzan sighs after he fastens the seatbelt.
"You shouldn't have—"
"Stop it, Zan. I needed to show Blondie that he was wrong. Is he blind? Can't he take care of his ball when he's playing?" I glare at him, my chest burning in anger. "And it's just the ball. He should be grateful that I didn't kick his ass with my pointy heel though he deserves it."
He smiles, nodding his head. I then start driving, dropping him first. On the way, he promises to pick me up after my ballet classes and I nod at him.
The day passes. It went smoothly, except for the pain in my feet and toes. It is terrible but I am used to it. My teacher praised me and on the next performance, I was chosen to be the prima ballerina.
Awesome, isn't it?
Indeed it is. All because of my hard work. The moment I entered the stage, I knew I wanted this position because this is my nature. I pursue until I get it and finally, it's in my hand. I am going to be the most notable dancer and ah, I can't wait for it.
Still smiling to myself and feeling utterly excited to share this with Ibzan, I stand out at the entrance of the institute, waiting for him. He said he would be waiting for me but I didn't find him. I have to wait, I guess.
And I do it.
Hours pass. Nearly two but Ibzan doesn't come. I worked this in my mind one hour ago and now I am walking back home which is kilometers away. I did not bring my car because of Ibzan's promise and there is no taxi on the way but only silence and howling dogs in the streets.
I have not walked much because of the pain in my feet but have taken rest in the middle. Anywhere I found a spot, I sat down for a while, staring at the dark sky and twinkling stars. I emptied my entire water bottle because of this.
The weather is cool, making me rub my arms even though I am wearing a jacket. Mama called me about half an hour ago and I told her I was on the way. She asked about Ibzan and I told her that he must be busy with his studies.
She scoffed, cutting the line.
She does not understand him. I do. He is very hardworking and easily stressed about his career. He wants to have a good life and it's pretty obvious that who will put one's career on stake for someone else?
It happens only in movies. Think practically. We need money to live and nothing else. If Ibzan is working hard and forgets to pick me up, then what's wrong? I know my Mama. She is so lovely and cares about me so much and I don't blame her. But I can't even blame Ibzan for being practical.
He is like that but still different from others. I met him a few months ago and he made me see that he is not like others — seeking attention and wanting to take advantage of me like others did.
In exams, assignments, parties, in front of teachers — everywhere I found those fake people. Before taking favors, they would wag their tails behind me but after getting done, they ghosted me around.
I used to cry in my room but now I don't care because I know it's human nature. An ugly nature. They cannot be real as they were never. I had no friends ever. It is only Ibzan who became my friend, then my boyfriend, treating me honestly.
Whatever is in his heart, he puts in front of me, even if it sometimes hurts me like it just did as he didn't come to pick me up but it is way better than being stabbed right in the chest of the dagger of lies. I hate lies and fake people.
Mama says Ibzan is pathetic because he is always worried about his career but I say, he is better than Blondie of whom she builds bridges of praise. I don't know what good she finds in him.
I shake my head, swatting him out of mind but maybe the thoughts were just an alarm of his coming.
A bike comes and stands beside me. I look at the rider as he puts his foot on the ground, balancing the bike. I know him, that's why I wait for him to reveal his face as he holds up the black mirror.
Blondie.
Oh, please, don't think I wanted to behold his so-called handsome appearance. Not even in his dreams. It is just that I can't dash away because of my feet.
"What?" I fold my arms, standing beside his bike.
"Baitho," he says, gesturing at the seat.
It takes not even a second for me to realize that my Mama called him to pick me up. Or else he'd come to pick me up on his own? I can only dream. He who hurt Ibzan can't even think of being good to me.
I hum, going to sit behind him. Seeing the change in my walk, he mutters, "Vo nahi aya?"
I frown, glaring at the side of his helmet since I cannot see his face. "Tumhe isse kya?" I utter, taking out the hood of my jacket to cover my head because I know he is going to run his bike and I will sneeze ten times by the time I reach home.
This is not the first ride ever. He has picked me up multiple times and all the time, he ran his bike mercilessly, scaring the shit out of me.
Aise hi kam karta hai ye. Koi pagal hi ache ki umeed kar sakta hai isse.
And once again, I am nervous, sitting behind him.
I hold his shoulders, hearing him say, "Ha, mujhe isse kya? I already know that he must be busy with his so-called studies." He grips the handles, making noise so that the dogs of the area would know that Mr Blondie is here to pick me up and they would run behind us unless we are on the highway.
"So? Unlike you, he won't be inheriting his grandfather's business so he needs to do some hard work." You aimed perfectly, Mikayla.
He scoffs. "It too needs talent and skills to inherit the business. And isn't it obvious that the grace of the Lord is upon me and He has given everything in my hands? Besides that, a ballerina like you won't understand business talks so it's better if I escape to tell you about inheriting business."
I roll my eyes. Nothing new. He won't leave a single chance. He defends himself like a lawyer. Then why is he studying business?
"I'm not only a ballerina, Blondie. I am what I seek to become, always on the top. You worry about your inheriting business," I air quote his two favorite words, "And about the grace of the Lord, you yourself say that nothing you have gained and are going to get is because of your hard work but only the Lord's grace."
A dog barks behind us, making me jerk in my seat. I grip his shoulders tighter in reflex, squeezing my eyes shut. All because of him! How could he drive away without listening to a signal? All he wanted was to scare me. But do it next time, Blondie, and I will make holes in your expensive t-shirt with my pretty long nails.
He runs the bike, waking up more creatures of the night. They run behind us.
"You wanted this; are you crazy?" I utter, having him increase the speed. He laughs while I have to grip his torso. He feels warm. I put down this urge to dig my nails into his flesh.
The dogs chase after us unless we reach the highway. There remains nobody behind us and finally, I can breathe peacefully.
How cruel!
He did not have to worry about himself because he was safe. Lekin piche to main baithi thi na. If the dog would have jumped to attack, it would have attacked me, not this Blondie.
Someday, he will die at my hands, I am telling you.
He runs the bike as I expected. I try to hide my face to escape the cold skin-cutting air but fail miserably. Like every time, I sneeze a few times on the way until we reach home.
I get down from his bike, sneezing.
"All because of you!" I accuse him, cupping my cheeks.
He holds up the mirror, staring at me. "I'm not coming inside," I won't even let him, "Say my hello to Aunt Damaris," I won't, don't worry.
I nod my head, ready to leave when he grips my knapsack, holding me back. No manners! Like every time, he would have attacked my hair but thanks to the hood over my head.
I turn around. "Ab kya?"
"You said I have nothing that I have gotten because of my hard work but only the Lord's grace, right?"
"So what?"
He sighs, starting with, "Well, I want you to know something, Mickey—"
"Mikayla!" I corrected him.
He rolls his eyes, ignoring me. "I accept and will keep mentioning before everyone that indeed everything I have is the Lord's grace.
"Anything I have, I don't call it my own because I carried nothing with myself when I was born, nor I'm going to take anything with me when I die except for the account of my deeds.
"Before my God, I'm a servant and I feel honored to glorify Him through my success which too is given by Him. He humbles me and by no means, I will take that glory and tell everybody that what I have is my own; by my hard work, first.
"No, it's not. It's my God's giving and everybody should see this grace upon me, like you do. Even to you, I say, humble yourself before God and stop saying that you have gotten everything because of your hard work. Hard work can go in vain if the Lord wants but it's fruitful when the Lord's hand is in it. There's nothing wrong if you give Him glory. Everybody has their own way. My way is that I give him one hundred percent credit."
I am unable to interrupt him this time, listening to him like my lips are glued to each other. I did not know why I did not speak against it even though I could do it.
Maybe because it was about God. Not like I feel uncomfortable but because I respect Him.
But indeed, Blondie's way of respecting the Lord is different. Very different.
"Good night," he says before leaving.
I walk inside. My grandmother holds me, wanting me to sit with her. I do it, talking with her. Her hearing ability is weak so I have to repeat every time but I don't get weary of it.
My grandmother is the cutest!
Mama also comes, inviting us for dinner. I leave my grandmother's side so I can go into my room and freshen up. After that, I enter the kitchen, finding my mother inside who is decorating the dining table.
"You called him, didn't you, Mama? See, I'm tired of it! He shows me attitude. Is it necessary to send him every time?"
"You complain too much, Mickey."
"Not about everyone, Mama, do I? I could come by myself."
"You're too tired after your classes, Mickey. I can't take any risk. Besides, it's far away, not right beside our house. I have to keep in mind that girls aren't even safe at night nowadays. Blessed be the Lord that He takes care of you but I have to be your responsible Mama, too."
She smiles at me, patting my cheek. She holds the bowl and takes it out while I follow after her, holding glasses to arrange them on the table.
"Poori duniya mein ek yahi insaan hai?" I mutter, rolling my eyes.
My sister-in-law smiles at me but deep inside, she is against it. She doesn't like me speaking against Blondie because guess what? He has won many hearts here!
She chuckles at my exaggerated reply. "I trust him, Mickey. But now pray in your heart that you don't miss him."
I make a face at her words which makes her laugh even harder. Though she looks pretty, I can't help but keep it like that, muttering, "Why would I miss him?"
"Because he's flying to America, Mickey. For further studies. And you know about their family business, too, don't you?"
Finally, jaan chhooti.