Wait-what is that? Is that a . . . *gasp* update?!
Chapter Sixteen: Nida and Mr. and Mrs. Abbas
Nida Ahmed was relaxing in her bed with a Vogue magazine in hand when she heard Jenna and her brother head out for the night. She didn't know what to make of their newfound tolerance of each other but decided not to think too much of it, as it didn't seem like they were going to be best friends anytime soon. Regardless, she decided not to spend her precious brain cells on such foolish topics. As she sat and sipped on her glass of cool water, she heard the sound of footfalls coming down the stairs-the Choudharys were also heading out for the evening, to have dinner at a family friend's place. A few minutes after they were gone, Nida was summoned.
"Nida," Mrs. Abbas called down the hall from the kitchen, "it's time for dinner, beta."
Nida sighed, slightly irked at being called beta, and rose from her seat. She was generally more irritated than usual and it most definitely had to do with her lack of visits to the outside world. A girl that wealthy and young should not be inside the house for so many hours. She vowed internally to go out the next day, with or without Little Miss Jenna and her cousin. Exploring on her own is definitely a better-sounding idea; she can have fun and let loose without feeling guilty seeing Imaan and Jenna and Husayn. When did all these self-righteous Moslems even enter her life?
Tossing her magazine aside, Nida made her way down the hall to the dining room, where the chinaware was set and in place, as usual. Today Nida was in a burgundy colored kameez with gold and white intricate embroidery done on the sleeves and down the length of the kameez with a green colored salwar. She placed her dupatta over her shoulders and went into the room.
"Oh, you look lovely!" Mrs. Abbas exclaimed upon seeing Nida enter.
"Thank you," Nida said coolly with a small smile. She knew she looked lovely in the outfit; she chose it. How else would she be looking so good in it?
"The burgundy suits her so well. Isn't that so, Salma?" Mrs. Abbas said, directing her question at Nida's mother.
"Oh, yes, lovely," Mrs. Choudhary said indifferently, glancing over at Nida for a brief minute before returning to the device in her hand.
Mrs. Abbas looked at her and frowned. Nida, on the other hand, ignored how hurt she was at her own mother's dismissal of her. She was still angry at her mother and father for blatantly declaring their love for Kamal was greater than their love for her. She knew she was difficult but that was only because wealthy girls are supposed to act that way; otherwise how do they get their title? Besides, whether she was difficult or not barely touches the surface of the mountain of issues Nida has with her parents.
Pulling out one of the ornamented chairs, Nida took a seat at the far end of the dining table, where she could sit alone with her thoughts (and farther away from her own parents). Mrs. Abbas took note of this and frowned even more but Nida could not make herself care about what she thought.
"Nida, dear, what would you like?" Mr. Abbas said with a large, friendly smile. Nida looked up from her empty plate and scrutinized the food. It seems Mrs. Abbas chose to cook all Indian today-Nida couldn't recognize much of the dishes, until her eyes fell on something familiar.
"I would like some of that, please," Nida said, pointing to the dish at the far end of the table as she handed him her plate. It was chicken breast with shaved Brussel sprouts, a healthy option that Nida was certain it was cooked for her. It didn't take long for the Abbas family to realize Nida was absolutely health-conscious; they cook separately for her because she refused to eat the dinner they cooked the first night she was there. Oil-filled, fat-filled rice with meat, known as biryani, and the smell of it alone made Nida want to throw up. Since then, the Abbas family had been completing her demands for healthier options.
Mr. Abbas filled her plate up with the dish and Nida gave him a tight smile. If there's one thing she does not like, it has to be filling up the stomach. Eating so much and filling up her platter is not good for her! She will only become fat and unwanted, like her friend from her middle school years who was bullied for being overweight.
Shaking her head from resurfacing memories of her past, Nida sat back down and began robotically putting a spoonful of food in her mouth. She didn't want to sit here and watch her parents laugh and enjoy themselves while she suffered in silence. So she ate, her eyes trained to her plate the entire dinner, even as Husayn came in, took his food, and left. She was nearly finished with her food when her father suddenly spoke to her: "Nida, dear! Why so silent?"
"I believe it is because I wish to disappear as much as possible," Nida responded, her head tilted slightly as if curious. "Ask me why again, father."
Mr. Ahmed stared at his daughter, befuddled. "Why?"
"Oh, Daddy," Nida drawled, letting out a humorless laugh, "as if you do not know. I thought if I could just be more silent, perhaps I would become more . . . sensible." Her eyes flashed with anger as she glared at her father before standing up and exiting the room.
Her father's biting remark from earlier whirled around in her head: He has more sense than my daughter. At least, I hope he does. Of course her father would like his son more than her; she doesn't have any sense. Furiously wiping away her tears now, Nida went to her room and closed the door behind her.
Nida was tired of crying, tired of the salty tears running down her cheeks, tired of caring, just-tired! She did not want to deal with emotions anymore; she wanted to go and have some fun. She wanted to forget about her parents, like she used to back in England. She wanted to drown herself in fashion, style, parties, accessories, drinks, and anything else she could possibly think of to just forget, dammit!
The vase on her bedside table went flying and it crashed against the wall, breaking into a million pieces. Nida breathed furiously now, not even sure when her hand smacked against the vase. She sat down on her bed and brought her knees to her chest before bawling. Not having any friends or distractions was the worst feeling ever. Soon, however, her breathing slowed and returned to normal. Before she could immerse herself in social media websites to forget what just happened, a knock sounded from outside the door.
"Nida?" a soft, feminine voice called. "Can we come in?"
Nida groaned and rolled her eyes---what did Mr. and Mrs. Abbas want from her now? "Yes, you may enter." She sat back on her bed, her tears already dried and gone. In her hand was the Vogue magazine she had skimmed through before dinner.
Mr. and Mrs. Abbas walked with a look of caution and worry on their faces. Nida ignored their presence as she forced her eyes to stay glued to the pages of where to find the best outfits for the Spring Fashion Week. This did not last for long, as she was not saying anything and neither were the two elders in her room. Finally, she put her issue of Vogue down and sighed.
"Is there something you wish to discuss?" Nida said politely, though her only wish at the moment was that they leave her be.
"As a matter of fact, there is," Mrs. Abbas said hesitantly. Nida stared at her, waiting for her to go on.
"Yes?" Nida prompted when Mrs. Abbas could not gather her thoughts and speak.
"Nida, dear," the older woman began almost tenderly before saying in a rush, "we do not want you to get hurt."
"I beg your pardon?" Nida exclaimed, thoroughly confused and taken aback by her words. Was she in danger of some threat?
"What she means is," Mr. Abbas interrupted, "we have noticed the relationship between you and your parents," Nida stiffened immediately at his words, "and we can see that you are hurting inside."
Mrs. Abbas nodded eagerly as she continued from his words. "We spoke to your parents and tried to advise them on how to better the relationship between you and them but . . ." At this, she trailed off and Mr. Abbas finished her sentence.
"They were not exactly all that responsive." Mr. Abbas gauged Nida's reaction, which was to bark out a cold laugh.
"Of course they were not," Nida said with an icy smile. "I'm not even worth the effort, am I?"
"That is not true!" Mrs. Abbas insisted. "We were hoping you are alright after the interaction you had with your father just now." Mrs. Abbas's voice softened with concern. "How are you, my dear?"
Nida was frozen in her position on the bed. Were these people coming to speak to her simply out of concern for her well-being? Why would they do such a thing? She stared at them with bewilderment and confusion before Mr. Abbas asked, his brows furrowed in worry, "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Nida said, snapping out of the confusion within her. "I will be fine, thank you. I've managed to live with them all my life; I'm certain I can live without their interest in me for the rest of my life. What's another nineteen years, am I right?"
Mr. and Mrs. Abbas shared a look before focusing their eyes back on the young lady before them.
"Nida," Mrs. Abbas began once more, "we don't want you to feel like your parents don't care for you. They do! They love you. They praise you often. But they are not well with communication, especially when it comes to you, their only non-adopted child."
"They praise me?" Nida said incredulously. "Have you lost your mind? I have never heard either of my parents speak a syllable of praise about me. But that's alright, because I do not care for it anyway." Nida was finished with this ridiculous conversation; she did not want to hear any more about her parents. "I am tired, I would like to sleep now. If you could please switch off the light on your way out." She lay down on her bed, pulling up her covers, as she feigned sleep.
"Alright," Mrs. Abbas said softly. "But if you ever wish to speak with us, please do not hesitate to do so. If you ever need our help or need someone to speak to, we are here, beta. We will try to speak to your parents again. I am truly sorry for how things are going in your life. In sha Allah, everything will work out and you will have a good relationship with your parents again. I'll make dua for you. Good night." And with the elderly couple left, with the quietest footfalls Nida ever heard.
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Mr. and Mrs. Abbas caused Nida a sleepless night. Were they genuine in their efforts to make Nida happy? Did they truly mean as they spoke? If so, why? What motive do they have? If there was anything Nida learned from being a young wealthy girl nearly all her life, it was that nothing was ever done without a motive. But what could possibly motivate an elderly couple to speak such kind words to a young girl? If they wanted money, they could have gone straight to her parents for that. When Nida awoke the next morning, she chose to test the elderly couple and see if they were genuine in their efforts.
She showered and went down for breakfast, in a cotton bright blue salwar kameez. When she entered the kitchen, she found Jenna and Husayn arguing while their parents watched them in amusement, Mrs. Abbas at the stove and Mr. Abbas at the head of the kitchen table.
"Really, Husayn bhai? You just 'fell asleep'? Who does that and leaves their little sister stranded at midnight?" Jenna cried, her arms folded over her chest.
"Uh, me?" Husayn replied with a roll of his eyes. "Quit being dramatic, Jenna, and go help Amma cook breakfast."
"Excuse me," Jenna exclaimed heatedly, "last time I checked, girls are not the only ones who have to treat their parents with excellence. Allah Subhanahu Wa Ta 'Ala does not say only girls be good to their parents, okay? So you need to get your butt up and help Ammi out, too." Husayn looked at her and stuck out his tongue; he couldn't argue with her logic but he could most certainly still tick her off with his childish antics.
"Really, I always question myself if you are the older one," Jenna muttered as she went to help her mother out. "Ammi, are you sure you had him first? Because I think my maturity level is way greater than his."
"What would you know about maturity level, Miss I Stay Late Even Though I Don't Have a Ride? How did you even get home last night, by the way?" Husayn asked as he pulled off a grape from off the fruit bowl on the table. Mr. Abbas sat at the table with a cup of coffee and his newspaper, which he read as his children bickered.
Nida stood by the doorway and watched the interaction happen. She has avoided Husayn as much as possible since her embarrassing reveal about her childhood and thus has not been to appreciate his beauty. But now, in this moment, she watched him and appreciated his humor and childishness as well. She almost let out a giggle at his boyish acts.
Jenna froze at the front of the stove, unsure of how to respond without seeming like she committed a crime. She flashed back to the car ride with Faraaz and Khadija, their conversation, and her ridiculous, unwanted feelings for Faraaz that seem to have deepened. Suddenly, she snapped out of it as Husayn came before her and snapped his fingers.
"Kahan kho gayi tu?" Husayn cried, asking where she has gotten lost.
"Oh, nothing," Jenna responded nonchalantly. "I got a ride home from my friend's brother." Before Husayn could react in his typical, overprotective brother style, Jenna continued with an eye roll, "And don't worry, my friend was in the car with me." She saw him visibly relax and smiled. "Bhaiya, I am not crazy. I would not do such a thing."
"Alhamdulillah for that much," Husayn said and Jenna smacked him on the arm. "Hey!" he protested.
"That's what you get for doubting your own sister!" Jenna cried as she continued cooking the eggs on the stove.
"Alright, fine, whatever," Husayn grumbled as he went back to sit down at the table and toss up some more grapes into his mouth.
At this point, Nida decided she had enough of observing his beautifully tanned face and gorgeous black curls. She couldn't really admire his chocolate brown eyes from her viewpoint but what she had seen was enough. She did not know when she would get another chance to simply stare at him and admire him from a distance but it seemed the siblings' conversation had come to an end.
"Good morning," Nida said coolly as she walked in through the kitchen doors, pointedly ignoring Husayn who had paused in his grape chewing to look down and ignore her as well.
"Asalamualaykum," Mrs. Abbas said with a gentle but worried smile as she looked over to greet Nida.
Nida nodded and murmured her response. Mr. Abbas put down his newspaper momentarily to give her an encouraging nod. She smiled at him as well, wondering how they will respond to her request later on.
"Nida, salaam!" Jenna said, cheerful as usual and filled with life and laughter.
"Wasalam," Nida responded and her smile tightened at the cheerful girl's tone. Must this girl always be so chipper?
"How was your dinner without me?" Jenna asked brightly.
"Wonderful," Nida responded dryly. She clearly cannot get away from this topic.
Nida stood next to the stove, not wanting to be near the handsome boy. She didn't know how he would react, especially given their limited interactions and his response each time. She was not willing to risk her own humiliation another time. Peeking a glance over her shoulder, she saw him exit the room without looking back.
"My evening was amazing! The girls were splendid at the choreography and we all enjoyed ourselves so much!" Jenna gushed, clearly wanting to talk about her time at the party she attended.
"That's great," Nida interrupted, not wanting to hear anymore. She spotted the coffee in the jug and proceeded to get herself a cup, black with honey and not sugar.
Jenna frowned at Nida's obvious cut-off on her story-telling. She didn't like that Nida still refused to open up to her but Jenna was not a quitter. And especially after seeing how well she and Imaan hit it off, she decided she will win this girl's heart over.
"Well, what would you like for breakfast?" Jenna asked, her tone now watered down and not so jolly.
Better, Nida though to herself before responding, "Oatmeal, please. Steel-cut oats with skim milk, bananas, and almonds. I need a healthy meal."
"As usual," Jenna replied with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'll get it for you."
"Thank you," Nida said graciously. Jenna exited the kitchen and made her way down to the closet containing all the food items and supply down the hall.
"Are you alright, Nida?" Mrs. Abbas asked as soon as Jenna was out of the kitchen.
Nida refrained from screaming out of frustration at hearing those words for the third time. She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply before letting out a slow exhale.
"I'm fine, Mrs. Abbas," Nida said as she opened her eyes. "Really, I am. Please do not ask me that again or I fear I will explode from frustration."
"Okay, dear, I'm sorry," Mrs. Abbas said gently and Nida felt instant remorse for speaking to this clearly soft-hearted woman. Who is even this nice anymore?
"No, I'm sorry," Nida said immediately. "I should not have said it like that; you are being so nice to me. I just-I do wish to speak to you both. May I please have a word with you both after breakfast is over?"
Mr. and Mrs. Abbas exchanged glances of startled concern before facing her again.
"Of course," Mr. Abbas replied and Nida smiled.
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My sincerest apologies for not getting to this sooner . . .school, house work, etc. came in the way. Mujhe maaf kardo, yaar. ;)
IRahierI