24th November, 2018
She melts into those details the world never even acknowledges them.
Exhausted, the remnants of her pain insisted on lasting long. She didn't care though, she decided to move on. From now on, she took an oath to expect everything and anything from anything and everything at all. No more surprise bombs, no more unexpected heartbreaks.
Guilt, something about it, something from it, churned and collided against her flesh and bones, warning her to come to terms with it. She felt guilty to go home to a husband she had lied to, the one she had betrayed.
She kept her calm while she drove, cringing that she had to drive Aunt Esta's Mercedes. The car was way too posh for her, way too spacious for her, way too not her type. When it came to cars, she was a classic one!
Stopping at the signal, she turned towards her right as her eyes caught the sight of labor men on the constructing building tower, high and tall enough to have reached higher than the clouds or more. Some working with the cranes, grinding cement or passing tools and loads. Some were elevating up to the peak, others were deciding the necessary decisions and plans while some only supervised.
It blew her mind that how a usual, small matter needed a tone load of work which would buzz with time and persistence. Step by step, decision by plan, summary by effort, time by period, vision by output! She was in awe.
But then her mind took an abrupt turn to the main core.
Dream Builders.
These labors, these men who performed the hardest most daring and the risky job are paid the lowest, are considered as labors where people perceive them as insignificant, unimportant and low. From now, Taraa decided to call them The Dream Builders.
They build the very dreams they can't live in, they build those dreams others live in, they build dreams for others which they never have the audacity to even imagine, think or let alone dream about them.
She knew it's the way it was but she felt that the world was unfair, selfish and complicated.
° ° °
She let out a sad sigh upon entering their apartment. Ameen would probably be asleep given to his nightshift so she decided to try cooking something eatable for them.
Her thoughts ran back to Ameen for some strange reason, as to why he didn't care of the things most men cared about especially when it came to her superficiality. Did she want him to in the first place? But she found that very, very odd.
After struggling with the cooking, burning the same thing a multiple times, she succeeded in bringing out a fine result. Spaghettis and soup! Smiling, she went to their bedroom for a shower. Being done with all that she needed to, she kind of felt satisfied as that ha cooked. She barely cooked for her husband, and he barely had time to bite a morsel of her cooking, not that both of them minded, it was all cool.
She was back to wearing long skirts and shirts, though she preferred cozy, comfy baggies and short t-shirt dresses. She came out to the room, standing in front of the full-length mirror she started blow drying her hair and had completely forgotten about Ameen in bed who was having the sleep of his life.
Her hair reached down till her waist, brushing away, she wondered how it'd look if she had chopped it off up till her neck. It's been a long time she had trimmed it nor had a haircut. Considering the facts, she grabbed the scissors and before she could have gone ahead with her hair, Ameen's deep throaty voice stopped her, she sighed in annoyance.
"Taraa?" He ruffled his hair and crushed, rubbed his eyes, "What are you doing?" He asked scrunching his brows, clearing out the blur from his vision as he took in her actions.
Taraa turned around, her eyes skimmed down towards his bare chest, internally rolling her eyes she mentally heard herself muttering, 'typical men and their skin'!
"Oh great timing! I was thinking to chop off my hair. Do you think short-hair would look good on me?" Taraa beamed.
"What?" Ameen asked, not able comprehend what she said, so Taraa repeated her question.
Smirking, he threw away the blanket from him and walked toward her, hugging her from behind, he leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Does it matter?"
"It's my hair I'm talking about, shouldn't it matter?!" Taraa let out a nervous chuckle.
"Is it relevant to the fact?" Ameen whispered back, causing her heart to race up with time.
"What fact?"
"What was the text message about?" Ameen asked, tightening his hold.
Her blood rushed up and down, she then realised that he was relating it to that message she had sent him.
Ugh!
"You changed the subject!" Taraa voiced, her voice breathless, her feelings were intensifying as because of their glued proximity.
Kissing the side of her face, he then released her, tangling his fingers with her hair, randomly brushing them, he said, "Short or long, I'd like them both on you."
° ° °
"She has been released an hour ago!" The patient's nurse shrugged, folding the sheets while cleaning up the room. They were in the ward of the patient.
"Wasn't I supposed to be informed?" Ameen fumed. "Where's Martha?" Ameen asked turning back when the said nurse entered in. "Martha? Why haven't you notified me 30 minutes before her release like you were supposed to?"
"Oh, I was just looking for you . . . we were substituted and I got caught up with other patients . . ." Poor Martha nervously reasoned.
Pressing his lips, he turned around to the other nurse who was least bothered about everything. "Did she say anything, or was there someone else who came to visit her?" He asked, panicking.
"She didn't, and yes. It was a man I didn't recognise, he wasn't a family!"
All the blood drained out from his face, his heart thumped like crazy, he felt his blood boiling above the point, he was dead mad. Rushing out of the room he headed towards the hospital entrances when his assistant blocked him, "Hey Doc, it's an emergency. We failed to reach the vein and it caused blockage . . ."
This world clashed against his and he felt trapped in chaos, where there wasn't any way out.
He clenched his teeth, his 13 year-old patient was dying while she was out there, on the run with another man.
Saving the world always came first to him, it was his first priority. But right then, he was confused between his priorities. His mind was amiss, he wasn't fine, but he decided to continue nonetheless. He followed Oliver, his assistant into the theatre while images and flashes of that night flooded his mind. His conscience warned him, restricted him not to enter but he crossed the line.
In the name of Allah, The Most Gracious, The Most Merciful.
That night he almost stepped into a nightmare he always feared from, that night he didn't, Allah saved him, He saved them all. It was still disturbing, it still haunted him in ways even his personal devils screams out in fear. As the following day he was to tend to an unexpected delivery, it was the only section in medicine he had hard time dealing with, though he was great at tending it as he turns very sensitive when it came to deliveries.
But right now, Allah had different plans for him, for everyone else.
The aura in the operating room was overwhelming, deafening his senses, as all his focus were absorbed in digging carefully, looking for the supposed vein, it was a mess, just like him. He could hear the patient's heart, beating with calculating thuds, his mind ran back to her, it ran back to the fact that she took off with somebody else. The startling beeping from the sphygmomanometer's monitor snapped him to reality and he took the awaited gulp when one of the nurse panicked,
"His blood pressure is dropping!"
He hurriedly ordered, "Clear out, we will figure something else."
But then he realised that he was too late when he heard the flat line bleeping.
But whose heart was beating then?
Guilt hit him as he felt the whole world's eyes on him, his broken heart shattered into a million pieces causing him to experience the amnesiac trauma. He forgot his existence, the world's existence.
For the first time in his life, he failed the world, he couldn't save the world.
Time of death: Tuesday, 20th November 2015, 7:56 pm
That's when the cover was pulled over the 13 year-old's face.
loud whispers
muffled prayers
hushed tears
ached emotions,
maybe this was the day I had lived for?
for I did see it coming!
steady footsteps
instant chattering
constant decisions
a distinct silence
a forgotten past
the departed world
the current
maybe I should have been more ready?
for this was a fulfilled promise!
the separation
in the preserved timing
a rise of the realisation
the known fact
the tragedy
the heartbreaks
maybe along with this came the reminder
should I have known?
blinded dark
inside a trembling heart
the dead sigh
the illusory tears
a fearful premonition
for the ultimate judgement
the awaited exam
the ultimate of all
the final look,
the last moment
Am I ready?
Maybe I could have been
° ° °
"You should have come to me from the very beginning!" The ferocity in his voice made his team jump, as they all lowered the gaze, "You do not operate without my consent, ever!"
Everyone thought that the doctor was undergoing a delirium.
"We lost him over something we couldn't have?" He fumed, running hands through his hair. "I cannot believe this!"
"It's not your fault, please calm down. You are in a shock!" One of his teammate assured.
"How is not my fault when I'm the one in charge here?" He paused, seeking for words "What went wrong, Shaun?" He yelled frowning whilst his eyes glistened.
He didn't think that he could actually keep up with this guilt or even walk ahead of it, he was a ten steps behind it. The quietness stilled the room. Losing a patient was the worst thing he had experienced, but what's worse to come was facing the parents and the family, breaking out the dreadful news.
Life challenged him to walk into a storm he knew he couldn't withstand.
It was all God's plan, Ameen tried his best not to let go, not to slip off of Allah's rope.
Just hang in there, hold on tight!
Allah's got you.
He heard his soul whisper to him before he went off to inform the parents.
° ° °
He instructed one of his teammate to inform Parker about what happened and that he left off to another emergency.
Ameen was the kind who always followed rules, always had been the do-gooder no matter what. Rules aren't meant to be broken as, if it weren't for rules, this world wouldn't have been in one piece and in one place.
That was his belief, that principle was something he always followed.
But as of that moment, he didn't care. He jumped all the possible red lights, crossed the speed limit, stomped rough breaks, as of then he was a threat to many civilians' death. He wasn't driving safely, he lost it all.
Ameen knew the possible, most likely place she'd be. He didn't have to doubt it because he knew her too well. Upon reaching the stranded park, located quite at the border of city, he stormed out, not bothering to close the door after him or that the car was in the middle of the road.
His eyes scanned across the place, those forgotten swings and faded slides brought back holed memories and the hurtful event. The place itself was quite cold, extremely lonely and creepy. There weren't any sign of people, except that when he spotted her near the swings, as she gripped the chain, swinging it back and forth.
Ameen froze when he took in her appearance, dark jeans paired up with a leather jacket. Her light hair was the same, front it brought bangs which covered her forehead, almost her eyes. Her skin transformed into a paler tone, her thin lips chapped, almost like her skeleton was eating up her skin and flesh, stealing away her beauty. It crushed him, ached him to see her staring into emptiness for something she could never be able to revive.
It was just for a moment when he shook his head as his anger was restored. Storming toward her, he called out her name, "Arya . . ."
Vain, that was what she felt in his tone.
She didn't look up at him, she only stared down at the swing as it swung steadily along with the cold wind waves. "I have built too many dreams only for them to break away?" Her hoarse tone was filled with accusation.
"What?" Ameen asked in disbelief as he was taken aback by the fact that she still hadn't gotten over it.
"I drew dreams for us, but you failed to colour them!" She yelled, still not meeting his gaze. "You were supposed to paint our lives, you were supposed to make things better! But you only made it worse!" She screamed, lost tears spilling out from her eyes.
"How dare you blame me for this?" Ameen coldly asked, tightening his fists.
She let out a cold chuckle, "Then should I blame God?"
He shook his head, ignoring his shattered heart and took a few steps closer to her, "Maybe you should blame yourself!"
Her eyes then snapped at his, hers spoke hatred like she could stab Ameen right away. "Of course! Because you wouldn't know what it was like to hold your dreams after years of prayers, hope and waiting. You wouldn't know what it was like to hold your baby after she breathed her first only to find out that it was her last. You wouldn't know it because you weren't the one who bore it for nine months long!" She screamed her lungs out, causing him to take a step closer to her.
"Today I lost a patient because of you!" He yelled, wiping out his tears. "How could you blame me for something like that? You were over it, it was something long gone. She was my child too! I did grieve too, I did have to experience the loss too, stop making everything about yourself and for once, think about the world you live in."
"You lost a patient because of me? What did I come to while the surgery and cut off the patient's lifeline?"
"Salih had to come to you? You had to take off with him?" He fumed with betrayal, grasping the other chain of the swing! He stood very, very close to her.
"I had no one else, it's like after I lost my child, I lost you too!"
"Our child!" Ameen corrected and gritted his teeth. "I was on your watch ever since the accident, ever since you almost drove yourself to death. I never left your side, not a single day!"
"Oh, you started caring again? Is it because you are holed with another loss? Or . . . wait, " Her eyes caught the silver band on his ring finger, it wasn't the same one she had given him. "You married again?"
"I had to, it was my dad!" Ameen muttered, looking away.
"But why did you care about me?"
"Because you are my responsibility, you needed attention and care!" Ameen sighed.
"That's from human to human. Tell me from a husband to wife!"
Ameen shook his head, "You don't deserve to know that."
"I want the papers, soon!" She demanded, referring to the matter of divorce.
"Don't worry, I'm working on it."
She pushed him back, "Yeah, and be glad that it was some patient you lost, not me!"
° ° °
She curled her straight hair after chopping off till neck, it brought out beautiful, attractive waves. She missed having her hair short, it almost felt nostalgic, it felt good. Bringing her hair to the right side, she was satisfied how much of a change it brought to her face. She looked different, a good different.
She glanced at the wall clock which read almost eleven in the night. Ameen was supposed to be at least back by then if not earlier, they were supposed to have dinner at his mom's place.
Maybe an unexpected surgery came up, or he got caught up with some other work.
She took the bottle of cola and a bowl of chips, looking for some more snacks she then hopped down in front of the TV. Switching channels, she randomly settled for an old movie and got herself lost in it.
A while later she heard the bedroom door had shut close. She furrowed her brows and switched off the TV, keeping the leftover snacks aside she got up to walk over their room but soon stopped in her tracks when she realised things.
Ameen didn't greet her like he always did. He was still in scrubs while like always he never stepped into this or his parents' place in it, he always came back in his formals. He didn't carry any files or documents to review, as he liked bringing back some reports to study at home. This time, nothing. Something was wrong.
She resumed striding, twisted the knob open but froze when she heard him sobbing. She gulped upon feeling her heart pounding against her chest.
What happened?
She couldn't move, she was stilled. Taraa knew she wasn't good at consoling, lending a shoulder or an ear as she never had someone to lend them to. But she wanted to know what happened, she was more curious than she was concerned.
Why do humans need to connect?
Connection between humans produce comfort from the heart within only to release into another.
Closing her eyes, she gathered her courage and walked in, she was nervous and was shocked. Ameen sat on the edge of the bed, face in his hands as his sobs grew louder and clearer. The room's lights were off as the street's lights illuminated in through the balcony and windows. She then sat opposite him on the floor, setting her hand on his shoulder.
"Ameen . . . "
He didn't respond.
"Ameen, look at me . . ." She whispered, prying his hands away from his face. After a lot of attempts, he gave in causing her to jump internally when his bloodshot eyes stared back at her mild ones.
It wasn't his state, it was rather what his eyes spoke.
Something she almost could relate, something she once saw the same in her own.
Her heart pumped above the average pressure level and she feared that things might go worse because of her. She was frozen, unaware of what to do. But then her conscience advised her to strengthen the connection. So she did. Moving forward, she slowly, ever so reverently brought him to her chest. Her hold tightened and he melted in her arms, eating away the comfort she had bestowed him.
But then her heart broke when he broke down again making her to tighten it more as she stroked his hair and back, constantly and kissed the side of his face.
"It's okay, it will pass!" She whispered, lovingly.
He sobbed harder.
Was she making it worse?
No, as he was able to let it all out. "Like time, everything passes, it will pass, it's okay." She assured again. But her words stung him hard, her words held details which weren't meant to disclosed.
So the night passed by with him in her arms, his heart over hers as she had to carry the weight of his, his head on her shoulders, his tears on her soul, his mind hidden away from hers.
° ° °
Ameen eventually fell asleep and she had to stay still, more like she wanted to. It's been an hour since she had been holding him like that until she shifted a little causing him to stir up. Breaking away from her, he got up exhausted, eyes were squinted and head dizzy, Taraa released him as he walked towards the washroom and closed the door behind him.
Taraa lifted up her knees to her chin and hugged them, analysing all the possibilities that he had encountered.
She looked at his way when he came out shirtless. He was in his sweat pants and went towards the closet for a jumper. It somewhat made her relaxed that he was out of his scrubs. She studied his every move, stared at him like he was some dream star only that she wasn't asleep.
He finally came to his side of the bed and plopped down, pulling the blanket over him he settled down for a sleep as it would make him feel better and cause him to forget everything for a while. But his wife had to terminate his plan,
"I won't let you sleep without telling me what happened." He whispered out softly yet firmly.
"Not now, I need some space." He muttered, hiding away his hoarse voice.
"That's the last thing you need. Space would only make it worse, I won't let grief or guilt take up that space in you."
Ameen sighed whilst sitting up, he failed to meet her gaze. He was calmed, feeling much better but the pain always pulsed, beat within him instead of his heart beats.
Ameen wanted to tell her, he tried to bring out the words to her, every time he did, he failed. But he kept on trying, the words clogged in his throat whenever he was ready to let them out.
Taraa patiently waited, her gaze never taking off him. Her were the usual, droopy and bored but underneath that mask they held curiosity and compassion.
"I lost a 13 year-old boy I could have saved." He said it in a breath, as the following ones grew heavy and short.
Taraa closed her eyes and said the required invocation. She opened her eyes only to have realised that this wasn't the effect from today, something from the past had triggered him.
Who did he lose?
Shifting toward him, she hugged him tenderly and whispered, "It's okay. It's not your fault. He had a God to return to, his death was written long before you came. It was Allah's plan, not yours."
She kept filling him up with assurances as he began sobbing, "It's okay. Yesterday died long time ago, it would be against the nature to keep bringing it back."
° ° °
"Take a day off, you don't have to b-" Ameen cut her off.
"Parker wants to kill me now, so that it becomes even." Ameen narrated her the whole situation with the patient excluding the Arya drama of course. He lied to her that he got confused and nervous upon the overwhelming aura and etcetera.
"You didn't see Parker yesterday?" Taraa asked quizzically and he stopped buttoning his shirt.
"No . . . I left immediately . . . I needed some air. . " He said in hesitation.
Taraa only nodded.
"You can always call me, you know that right?" Taraa asked and he raised his brows in confusion. "I mean if you ever need some air. . . I could be your air?" She mumbled the last part awkwardly, totally confused.
What was wrong with her? Clearly Ameen wasn't in a mood for bad jokes or clingy remarks.
"Yeah, sure. Thanks!" He said and left shortly to the Hospital.
Taraa brought her hand up to her chin and pondered with curiosity. He was lying about something, she could see it in his eyes, sense it in his voice. The way he stammered about leaving the hospital without Parker's acknowledgement sounded off to her, or when he said that he was nervous and confused upon reaching the vein.
Say what?
How on earth could a successful surgeon be affected by confusion and nervousness or get overwhelmed during a critical and crucial situation? Unless, something else was on his mind? Or more like someone?
Rolling her eyes, she swept away those thoughts and focused on the current. She didn't need to concentrate on something that's between the present and future; assumptions.
Nope, she wasn't willing on letting the devil get the better of her.
° ° °
"Taraa, why isn't Abed answering any of my calls?" That was the first question Aunt Esta asked when she stepped into the Adel House.
"What do you need Abed for again?"
"Um, please don't answer a question for a question?" Aunt Esta politely advised.
"Yes, sorry! I forgot to tell you, they locked him up in the asylum." She then said like it was the most obvious thing.
"What?" Her Aunt's eyes widened in shock and she wanted to roll her eyes at her.
"Why are you so surprised?" Taraa asked.
Ignoring her question, "How do you know?"
"Because I just paid him a visit." Taraa answered. "May I go freshen up real quick and then we can talk about this?"
So then Taraa had to tell her the whole story.
"That lowlife, that subhuman! I can't believe he said that to you." Esta spat, her eyes widened upon reading that note Abed wrote to Taraa.
Taraa burst out into fits of laughter making her Aunt frown in confusion.
"What . . . did . . . you just . . . say . . .?" She asked in between laughter, "You . . . called him . . . a subhuman!" Then she rolled for another fit of laughter as her Aunt just stared her.
"Sorry, the word subhuman just reminded me of Hitler. That guy always humors me." Taraa explained, realising that it had been ages since she actually had laughed.
"Oh wow! Didn't know you are a fan!" But why?" Aunt Esta asked.
"Not a fan! He wasn't a good person, I know! But there were few little things of him which I found weird, like good weird! I like his paintings, they were sweet, I think he was a major liar, like he liked lying? I wonder what went in his mind while the war?!!" Taraa finished as she dazed out.
Aunt Esta shot her a disgusted look, "You are weird, that's the thing!"
"Hmm!"
They both looked at the doors way when the bell rang, Aunt Esta got up to get it.
Taraa took the medical documents and secured them in the file, keeping it away she strode towards the main door, somewhat baffled by the visitor's arrival.
"Malak?"
"Do you know what today is?" Malak beamed.
"Yeah, Saturday! Why?" Taraa replied nonchalantly.
"Ugh not the obvious!" Malak shook her head.
"I don't know what day it is . . . my birthday? Wait what's today?" Taraa guessed.
"It's 21st of November." Esta announced.
"When's my birthday again?" Taraa asked confused.
Aunt Esta and Malak shared a look before they stared at Taraa.
"I'm serious, when is it?" Taraa demanded.
"Not your mom to remember that!" Esta muttered. "But when is it?"
The only person who knew Taraa's birth date was Malak and she wasn't willing to spill.
"Malak, I know you know the date! Tell me!" Taraa said.
Malak kept her silence, purposely watching the scene.
"You are not gonna tell me? Fine, I will ask my husband!" She exclaimed.
Grabbing the phone, she dailed up Ameen's number.
° ° °
"We all take the blame, it wasn't just Doctor Mohammad, we put him in an impossible situation which lead to the patient's death." Said one of the doctor from the team as they all were seated in the conference room with Parker, the lawyers and two other officials.
"What actually caused the blockage?" Parker asked coldly to Ameen.
Ameen glanced at all the other doctors and said, "There wouldn't even be a blockage had I been in formed about it first." He didn't bother glancing at Parker.
"So, where were you when this emergency had occurred?" Parker countered.
"I was around, with the notifier in my hand, cautios if any of the possibilities should occur!" He replied politely.
"Where exactly?" Parker dug further.
"I was leaving the cafeteria then, heading to my office!" Ameen lied.
"Then what happened?"
"Then my assist-" He was cut off by his phone call. Bringing it out from his pocket, he excused himself before seeing Parker huff out in disappointment and strode out of the room.
"Yes Taraa?"
"What's my birth date?"
Ameen was taken aback, "Seriously? I just left out of the conference room, excusing myself from eight people who are staring at me through the glass doors, just so I could tell you when you were born?"
"Save us the time, tell me!"
"16th June, 1991!"
"Thanks honey!"
° ° °
"It's not my birthday! So, why are you here, why are you holding that weird looking box ever so excitedly?" Taraa threw a bored look at her friend.
"Can't believe you don't remember!"
"What should I remember?"
Malak settled the box down and walked to her, setting her hands on Taraa's shoulders she began, "You asked me to remind you that on this date, fast backward to this very day had been the first time you ever . . ." She trailed off, bringing the box towards her, "rolled with the blades!"
Malak grinned at a very astonished Taraa, she was speechless when she saw the new pair of roller blades in the box Malak had opened.
"Um, can this world grow up already?" They heard Aunt Esta mutter as she disappeared from their sight.
"I don't know what to say! Malak . . . um, thank you?" She stammered, "I'm so glad you remembered!"
"Well, I brought mine too!" Malak then chirped, melting Taraa's mood with glee and good memories.
Those memories were the coals that shielded her heart from frost!
She rushed to open the grand partition between the drawing room and the dining, enclosing the huge empty room which contained of emptiness, nostalgic dusted aroma and lost memories. All the furnishings or fixtures had been removed since Mara's death, till now it had been plain empty with fallen leftovers of the silk curtains barely concealing the inside from the outside through the tall windows, the posh wall arts and few antiques which lingered here and there.
She pulled on the light bar, lighting up the entire large hall with its length longer than how wide its width was.
"Let's do this?" Taraa whispered to her friend, gazing around.
"Never been so ready!" Malak grinned back and they both put on their roller blades. Taraa almost tripped but soon caught Malak for support and then they both held each other's hands.
"Um, let me be! I wanna relive this!" Taraa said.
"Are you sure?"
"Never been ever!" Taraa beamed before striking to slide her left foot against the wooded floor and rolled ahead into the air causing the dust particles to hit her face. All of a sudden she was bound to sneeze and when she did, she didn't realise she lost her balance whilst the incoming window ahead of her.
Feeling her knee twisting against the balance and herself colliding against the window, she took the fall and last thing she heard was Malak's frightened scream, "Taraa!"
--- --- ---
السلام عليكم ورحمة لله وبركاته
Dearest Readers,
How are you doing? Hope you liked the chapter. This chapter was long drafted in my head for a later chapter but for some reason I wanted it to be this.
I dedicated this chapter to a friend for a late friend of hers. May Allah have mercy on her soul, may He forgive her, grant her paradise and consider her as a martyr and make her among the successful ones.
May He make it easier for her family and loved ones, may He grant assurances and comfort in their hearts.
Aameen!