She threw herself at heartbreak,
Like a moth drawn to a flame.
Patching up her broken wings,
Just to try it once again
And the world all thought her foolish,
For she never seemed to learn,
But how do you save somebody,
Who's convinced that they should burn?
- e.h
_____________________________________________________
Maaz;
My alarm blares again, as my hand is about to snooze it once more, I notice the time. It's half past seven already. Thirty minutes past my usual time. I hurriedly roll out of bed. I peek in Dad's room, his sheets are bare, neatly tucked in.
A quick shower and I rush downstairs. I don't find dad in the living room either. He must have left with Ziyan. The house is quiet except for a little noise from the kitchen. I hope it isn't Zara. Last night I have no idea what had come over me that I sat down and talked nonsense for hours and hours until the wee of dawn. I'm not sure how she would perceive that as. Being the sweet person she is, she may have listened to me only to appease me, all the while wanting to run back to bed.
Yet a smile spreads across my face and my heart skips a beat as I recall how she had sat beside me, not quite touching and listened to me talk. I was hoping the night wouldn't end.
In need of coffee I make my way to the kitchen. Inside I see braided, jet black hair who can only belong to one person. Too busy studying her profile I fail to notice the chair in front of me.
Thud.
She turns around, startled, dropping the mug she was stirring. So much for good impressions!
The mug shatters on the floor, coffee spilling on her hand to the floor.
'I'm sorry, I was..' She begins.
'I am so sorry.' I say at the same time.
'I wasn't paying attention.' She adds sheepishly.
Her left hand now has a red splotch on the back of her hand.
'Your hand.' I maneuver my way through the pieces on the floor. I take her hand, she pulls it away.
'It's nothing. It will be fine.'
'You have burnt your hand. Let me.' I open the faucet and place her hand under the gushing flow.
She winces. 'I am really sorry.' I apologize again.
'Does it hurt a lot ?' I ask. Of course it does, her hand is all red now.
'Not so much that I can't handle.' She replies.
'I'll be right back.' I say, I go out and from the bathroom I grab a tube of toothpaste and rush back to her.
She rolls her eyes at me when she sees me unscrewing the toothpaste cap.
'I'm fine, I said.' She says. She sits down on the chair and wipes her hand on a towel. I kneel down in front of her.
'You don't have to.' She remains her stubborn self, keeping her hands in her lap.
'Can you stop being so stubborn and let me administer it ?' I roughly grab her hand, careful to not touch the red part. The red splotch seems to glower at me, blaming me for its presence.
I squeeze some toothpaste on my finger and rub it onto her hand. She flinches on my touch.
'It will be okay. Just a minute.' I murmur as I spread the paste all over her hand.
I brush my jeans as I stand up, done with my job. I look up to see her glaring at me.
'You are welcome.' I say, sarcasm evident in my tone.
Taking a pan from the adjoining storeroom I begin to pick up the pieces lying around.
As I bend to grab another piece from the floor, I'm arrested by her eyes, chocolate brown depths regarding me critically. Time stills and all I see is her. Delicately built, as soft as a dandelion, a puff of wind and she would fly away. Yet I know it is iron that is in her bones, a steel will and strong determination that keeps her going. She is strength wrapped in softness.
A crash brings me out of my fantasy. The pan in my hand has tilted and the pieces once more land on the floor shattering into even more minute pieces.
'Oops.' I mutter, somehow I have managed to embarrass myself again in the span of ten minutes. Great start to the day.
I take a step back and yelp, 'Ouch!' I have stepped on a piece of the mug. I bend down to examine my foot. A drop of blood oozes out and I grimace.
Zara bursts into giggles, 'Smooth.' She says and walks out of the kitchen leaving me staring.
She returns when I'm done cleaning up the floor. Her expression is wiped clean of previous mirth, like that moment never happened.
'I thought you'd want some coffee.'
'I can help myself.' I mutter.
'Sure, you can.' And I detect the hint of sarcasm underneath. 'But I'd like to avoid a catastrophe here while I can.'
I'm late for work but I'm grinning like a maniac when I get to my office.
'Somebody is cheerful today.' Arhaan walks in without announcement.
'Pretty day, sun shining, birds chirping, you know.' I gesture vaguely towards the wall length window at the side, rifling through the files left on my desk.
'A little bird also told me something this morning.' He says with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
I don't like it when he has that look on him.
'Been gossiping with the secretaries again ?' I inquire.
He dramatically rolls his eyes and pulls out the chair in front of me. He plops down on it, leaning closer to me, he spreads his hands on the table.
'You, her, same house, sparks flying ?' He arches one eyebrow.
'You came to know.' I say, pulling the calculator towards me and adding up the figures on the papers in front if me
'It's true !' He exclaims, his voice rising.
'Calm down, Arhaan. There isn't anything. All I did today was mange to make a huge embarrassment of myself.'
'Let's go out for lunch. We need to celebrate !' He says, excitedly, completing ignoring my point.
Ziyan chooses that moment to walk in, 'What are we celebrating ?' He asks as he walks in with a file in his hand.
I have to resist the urge to smack Arhaan. Instead, I place my face in my hands and let Arhaan do the talking.
'He hasn't told you? Maaz is in ...' My head jerks up as I realize where he is going with this.
I glare at him and interject, '...in....in a...fix, over these accounts. I gesture towards the papers spread around me.
'And that's a reason to celebrate ?' Ziyan is clearly confused. Arhaan smirks at me. He gets up from the chair and walks to the door.
'See you both at lunch.' He says, winking at me and leaves me alone to handle the mess he has created.
'You know how Arhaan is. He was just goofing around.' I make an attempt to explain.
'Okay, let's get this sorted.' Ziyan nods, unconvinced and sits down on the chair Arhaan has vacated.
***
After dinner we all are seated in the living room, talking. I sit beside Zara's mom, Sarah. Our fathers have retreated to the lawn to walk. Eliza and Ira keep up a constant flow of conversation. I chip in from time to time. Ziyan never misses an opportunity to annoy Eliza. Sarah enjoys the banter around her, gazing affectionately at her kids. Zara is seated on the couch across from us.
'Do you remember when Eliza thought it would be funny to...' Begins Ziyan.
'Don't you dare say another word.' Threatens Eliza.
And so it goes on.
A while later I see Zara has dozed off on the couch, her head resting on the armrest. I doubt she's had rest since yesterday. Sleep takes away the worry and sadness that forever mar her face. Sarah seems to follow my gaze.
'She must have had a sleepless night yesterday.' She says. I shift my gaze to her, listening.
'Does she often ?' I can't help asking.
'Yes, quite often. Now not as much as before, there is some improvement but it's not enough.' She says sadly.
Worry lines her eyes, the same chocolate brown that Zara has inherited.
'How was it ?' I ask and she understands without me elaborating. She looks at me for a long moment, perhaps thinking how much she should reveal.
'I can't begin to describe the initial days. She was unconscious for most of it. The first few days she kept sleeping. At the end of the week we had to hospitalize her. She was severely dehydrated and malnourished. She refused to eat, she didn't talk to anyone, she didn't move unless absolutely necessary.'
I gaze at the sleeping form of Zara in front of me trying to piece her together with this girl.
'What did the doctors say?' I ask.
'They could only treat her physically. And she refused to cooperate with the numerous psychologists we consulted.'
I feel a pang of sorrow for what she had to go through.
Sarah continues, 'A month later we thought she was recovering, she started to eat and drink. But suddenly she fell into a deeper daze than before. I don't know where we went wrong and what we should have done. All of us tried every possible thing to cheer her up.'
'It wasn't your fault.' I say, softly.
'She loved him with everything. And it had seemed as if he loved her too. But what he did to her... he broke her irreversibly.'
I listen to her, nodding in sympathy keeping my thoughts to myself.
'As a family, we try to be happy. For her sake, to uplift her. But deep inside we are all unhappy. We are dreadfully worried about where she is going to go this way. We are constantly stressed about it. And still don't find a solution to it.'
'Isn't she better now ?' I ask.
'She still gets nightmares, Eliza tells me. She doesn't talk unless directly talked to. She is often dazed, living in memories of the past. She is stuck in time.' She says.
'Now she's afraid to let anyone in. She's lost trust, hope, purpose to life. We encourage her to embrace the world once more. She remains stubborn and has restricted herself to this house and that library. She doesn't socialize. She's left all her old friends. She isn't living. It's like she died that day with him.' She adds.
A tear escapes from her eyes and rolls down her cheek. 'I wish she starts to live again. I wish she learns to move on.'
'I am sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up.' I apologize.
'No, it seems nice to let it out rather than keep it in. Thank you for listening.' She says with a weak smile.
'I promise I'll do my best to do what I can to help her.' I swear.
***
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