Maher didn't go back to Islamabad. He couldn't. It was late and all flights were cancelled because Karachi decided to unexpectedly pour. Well, not entirely unexpected. The rainstorm had been on the forecast for days but Maher didn't take that into account before jumping on a plane to get there. He had called Umair who arranged for him to stay at his place but before heading there he stopped at a cash and carry to get a bottle of water a pack of cigarettes. He couldn't find the brand he always smoked but anything would work at the moment. He couldn't believe it but he hadn't smoked for the past 8 hours which was a personal record. He drove to Umair's place and his watchman let him in. Maher went straight to Umair's guest bedroom that was located on the ground floor. He had been awake for over twenty-four hours and he could fall asleep standing up. He plopped himself on the bed and he was asleep before he even hit the pillow.
He was awoken by his phone ringing nonstop. He felt like it had been going on since forever. He picked it up and with still sleepy eyes looked at the screen. It was Hareem. It was 5 in the morning and he was in no mood to talk to her right now. He intentionally missed the call and slid down the notification panel to find out 45 missed calls from Hareem and Ayla and dozens of messages. Ayla. His eyes shot open. He had forgotten to let her know that he was coming here. She must be losing her mind. He sat up on the bed and answered the call.
"Hey," he said.
"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!?!?" She practically yelled from the other side of the line.
"Karachi," he replied and he was ready for her reaction.
"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!?!" She was frantic. "Why are you in Karachi, Maher?!" She asked; her tone now resembling that of a sane person.
"I needed to take care of something," he quietly answered.
"You didn't even bother letting me know?" She sounded genuinely disappointed.
"I'm sorry, Ayla. Our lunch totally slipped my mind," Maher truthfully spoke. He really didn't remember their plans when he made the last minute decision.
"You don't just up and leave like this, Maher. I was worried sick!" Her tone was completely different from how it not even five minutes ago. She sounded concerned. "I was going to file a missing persons report," she added and Maher let out a dry chuckle.
"Well, you don't have to do that now. I'll be back as soon as the weather clears up here," he informed her.
"Maher, what happened?" She asked.
"I'm fine," he replied.
"I didn't ask you how you were, but now I know for sure that you're not fine," she stated. "You know you can talk to me, right?" she added.
"I'm fine, Ayla. I have to be somewhere, talk to you later," he replied. He didn't wait for her to reply and ended the call. He loved Ayla but he didn't want to engage in any conversation at the moment, let alone one that discussed how he was feeling at the time.
He turned his phone off silent and dropped it on the other side of the bed and laid down again, sinking his head further into the pillow. He closed his eyes for a moment but opened them again as he heard the call to prayer. Umair's house was a couple blocks from the local mosque so it sounded loud and clear. He picked up his phone again and looked for Saman's contact.
Can we talk?
He hit send and placed the phone on top of his steadily rising and falling chest. He needed to make things right with Saman. He wouldn't tell her a thing about his father's connection with everything she's been through. He knew it wouldn't do anyone any good and would only bring more pain. Maher knew he couldn't hurt her any more. He had decided he'd take her to Australia with him. He had even planned to give her brother a position at his firm. Pakistan had zero opportunities for people in prime health, a paraplegic had no future in this country but in Australia? People that worked despite their challenges were celebrated. Both Saman and her brother would have the perfect life and a happy future would hopefully overshadow their painful past. Maher's chain of thoughts was interrupted by his phone vibrating on his chest. It was a message from Saman.
No
He stood up at the edge of the bed and called her this time. She didn't respond. He called her again. No response. He called her a third time.
"Kya masla hai?" She asked as soon as she picked up.
"Third time's a charm," he said, trying to lighten the mood.
"Maher, leave me alone," she seriously said.
"Saman," Maher called her and he was serious this time. "I need to fix this between us," he spoke his heart out.
"Kuch nahi hai fix karne ke liye, Maher! There's nothing between us—there's no us. There's you, there's me—there is no US, Maher!" She tried her best to keep her voice from breaking.
"You can't say that," Maher replied.
"You made a fool of me, Maher. I trusted Maher, Amina's brother's friend. And what did you do? Meri apni nazar mein humiliate kardia tumne!" Saman spoke truthfully. She felt her absolute worse. "It's my fault. I'm the idiot," she added.
"It's not," Maher stated. "I had my reasons to do this. They may not make the perfect sense but I did this for a reason," he added.
"Oh believe me, I'd love to know why," Saman replied bitterly.
"Saman, can we drop this and start over?" Maher asked, not wanting to list the reasons behind his lie. "There's you, there's me... I need it to be us," he added.
She didn't reply. Despite his lie, she wanted him in her life. She was in love with him and there was nothing she could do to change that fact. But she would be reminded of this every time she saw him and that's one thing she didn't need in her life.
"Yeh mumkin nahi hai, Maher. Allah hafiz," she said before hanging up and Maher sat there listening to the disconnect tone for the next minute.
—
The morning was clear, the sun was out and the gloominess had dissipated. Saman laid down on her bed the conversation she'd had with Maher earlier this morning. The one person that made smile and laugh, made her feel good about herself, made her love herself in times she felt terrible about herself. He lied to her, straight to her face. He deceived her. The one person that she loved and cared about for a decade—was he just a mirage? The pleasant day felt like a destructive storm. Saman didn't want to go to work or didn't want to leave her room. She didn't even want to get out of bed. For once in her life in over two years, Saman selfishly thought just about herself. She called in sick at work and it wasn't an issue since she never took an off. She lied to her brother that she was coming down with something and lied to him that she'd already had breakfast so he wouldn't worry. Majid was already here so she had nothing to be worried about on that front. And she stayed in bed.
Maher drove to the airport. After dropping his car off at the rental service, he halfheartedly made his way to catch his flight. He didn't want to go, not without fixing what he had messed up. Saman didn't deserve to be lied to the connection he shared with her; with the person she was offline couldn't let him think straight. He had realized he was wrong about that, but was it too late? Had he lost her already? Doubts and fears swarming his mind, he sat down on his seat in the plane.
—
Maher's phone started ringing nonstop the moment he landed. Messages and calls poured in unnaturally. He called Ayla—one of the callers—back.
She picked up the call in an instant. She didn't say a word but he heard her sniff.
"Ayla?" He called her and he dreaded what she might have to say.
"He's gone, Maher." She cried. "Papa's gone," she added breaking down and Maher felt his heart drop down to his stomach. He could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears, accompanied by a sharp ringing sound.
"Maher?" He heard Ayla's voice but it sounded as if it came from a distance. His phone dropped from his hands and he felt something burn up his throat. He suddenly turned towards the trash can nearby and bent down over it, throwing up. He hated his father but the fact that he was no more left him no chance to repent; to make things right for Saman. He was gone, with all the bad he had done, he was gone. He felt a hand on his back. He quickly fetched a tissue paper from his jacket pocket and wiped his face before turning to the person. He found a middle-aged man standing by him, holding his phone out.
"Aapka phone," he said and Maher took it from him. He explained Maher that he saw him drop his phone and feel sick.
"Aap theek hain?" He asked and Maher nodded.
"Ji, thank you," he replied. The man handed him a bottle of water and walked away, explaining that he had a flight to catch. Maher thanked him and accepted the water bottle.
Maher booked an Uber ride because he was in no shape to drive home himself.
—
He sat on the veranda alone, away from the hustle bustle downstairs. It seemed like the entire Islamabad was at his house. His father knew many people, worked with a lot of them and everyone was for the funeral. Maher had just come back from the cemetery after burying his father six feet underground. The funeral prayer was one of the few prayers he had offered in years, the other being the annual Eid prayers. Maher didn't know how to feel. He hadn't shed a single tear throughout the entire ritual. He hadn't even spoke a single word. He didn't know how he felt. He popped a couple of painkillers and drank cup after cup of coffee because the headache was back. He just wanted all the people to disappear and for the day to be over.