Chapter Two
I was woken up with a tap on my shoulder and felt the pain shoot through my body even before I opened my eyes.
"Hey, wake up." I could hear the whispers of my husband.
I rubbed my eyes and opened them, only to squeeze them shut again, sensitive to the light shining in the room. I tried again and that's when I realised I was still on the floor.
Eijaz towered over me with his hands stretched out in front of him. He was already 9" taller than me but like this he looked like a giant. I took his hands as he helped me up. I can never get over how soft they felt. I thought girls were supposed to have the delicate hands. Why are mine rough compared to his? I noticed that he didn't greet me with a smile like he usually did. His drawing in of his dark brown eyebrows displayed the foul mood he was in, aided by his plump lips in a thin line.
As he pulled me up, his hair flopped over his forehead, slightly covering his eyes. He attempted to blow his hair out of the way but it flopped back down. He's been doing overtime at the office for some time now so, his usually short hair has grown to the bottom of his neck and hasn't had the chance to go to the barbers. Contrary to his beliefs, it does not look good on him.
"What were you..." he trailed off when he saw my face properly and his expression softened. "Hafeezah, have you been crying? What's wrong?"
He sat me down on the edge of the bed, then sat beside me. He moved his hair out of his face and traced over the puffed up area under my eyes.
"I was making du'a (supplication). You know how it is." I brushed it off.
I can't actually remember the last time I made supplication with meaning, where my whole body felt the conversation with Allah. I'm ashamed to say, my imaan (faith) hadn't been so great lately. Sure, I pray my five daily prayers, but there are times my mind wonders beyond the prayer, into irrelevant things and I'm pretty sure my Qur'an is covered with dust. The distance I've created from Allah has caused a huge amount of guilt to reside in me but it's been a struggle to reduce that gap.
I rolled my shoulders in circles to ease some of the pain I felt from falling asleep on the floor and noticing this, he began to give me a massage. If anyone ever asked me what the perks of getting married are, I'd answer with 'good massages' every time.
"Are you okay?"
"I am now," I smiled.
I checked the clock and saw that it was approaching 1am.
"Good because I need to talk to you about something." The worry in his face formed into disappointment.
"What is it?"
"Why did I walk into the house to see Mum cleaning up the kitchen?" His voice was stern and somehow it sounded deeper than usual.
"What do you mean? I cleaned ––"
"Don't give me that, Hafeezah," he interrupted me, crossing his arms against his chest, his t-shirt sleeves tightening around his biceps. "I literally just argued with her trying to defend you but I can't keep doing this; I'm tired of it all. I walked into the house and see her washing the dishes. She was on the last one otherwise I would have helped her. You know she's not well and you leave her no choice to clean up after us all the time. I know there were a lot to clean up because my friends came over and I would have helped you but it was prayer time and you know I had to go masjid."
I was wondering when he would take a breath.
"No, you don't understand. I did clean up. There was only one plate left to clean because Khadra came and we were talking. I was going to finish it off but I ended up falling asleep after praying," I explained, desperately.
It was no use though. I could tell he didn't believe me.
"Then why did she complain about having to clean the kitchen and living room? I saw her with my own eyes washing up not too long ago. She told me that Yusuf dropped her home around 11:15pm and she was horrified by the mess." He raised his voice even more. "She took a little rest before she tackled the mess but she couldn't sleep until it was all cleaned up."
I jumped at the sudden outburst, my heart beating hard out of fear. Yusuf is Khadra's younger brother, which sort of confirms Khadra's story since Mum was at their house.
"I don't know." My voice was low in comparison to his. I lowered my gaze and refused to look at him, hiding the fresh tears rolling down my cheeks.
"Are you saying my mother is a liar?" I could really hear the anger in his voice now.
"W-what, no-o." I managed.
"Look at me, Hafeezah," he said, harshly. "I said, look at me!"
I reluctantly looked up, into his eyes. The whites of his eyes were replaced with lines of red from anger. His eyes softened again slightly when he saw my blotchy face from the tears. He cupped my face and used his thumbs to wipe my cheeks.
"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout at you. Just, please try to understand. She's my mother and I don't want to see her in any trouble. I hate when she's always moaning about you and I don't know what to do about it anymore. She's not too well and with Dad away, she's sad. She just needs some rest and that's what she came here for. She's always cleaning her own house but I just thought it would be a nice distraction for her to be here until Dad came back. I thought she would get some peace." His voice was softer and his eyes never left mine. "I won't have my friend's over so late next time so that I can help you clear up. How's that?"
He pulled me closer to him and planted a kiss on my forehead before wrapping his arms around me.
I nodded. "I'm sorry," I sniffed.
There was nothing more I could say; he just didn't believe me.
"Go change out of your abaya and let's go to sleep. We don't want to miss Fajr," he said after a while.
I changed, turned the lights off and slipped into bed, the side furthest away from the door. Eijaz was already in bed, his back towards me. I was silent for some time as I stared at the curtains, sleep refusing to take over.
"Hey," I whispered. "Are you asleep?"
"Mm." Was his only response.
I couldn't help myself. I needed to know. "Do you still want me to be your wife?"
He mumbled something like, "you're crazy." Then he continued more coherently. "Of course I do. In this world and the next. Why?"
"No reason."
He turned to face me but I couldn't really see his face in the dark.
"Is it because I shouted at you? Spouses shout at each other sometimes. It doesn't mean they love each other any less. I didn't fight for you for no reason, you know."
I didn't say anything back to that. I wasn't sure if I felt relieved after that.
"Now, can we go to sleep please? I'm tired." Not a minute later, he was snoring.
~~~
I was woken up again but this time from shouts that were coming from downstairs. I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and I was instantly engulfed by a headache. It had to be from all the crying I did last night. I glanced over at the clock and saw that it was 10:32am. Who could possibly be shouting at this time? Eijaz left for work long ago. I got up, changing out of my pyjamas and into something more appropriate in case it was a guest. I put on the only Salwar Kameez I could find that wasn't creased and it happen to be bottle green, which I am not too fond of but I couldn't do anything at that point. I found the hijab and niqab that I wore yesterday on the headboard of the bed and grabbed the two, quickly throwing it on. The volume of the shouting increased and so did my urgency to go down.
As I descended the carpeted stairs, I could recognise both voices. Both my mum's, one being my mother-in-law, were shouting at each other. When I realised this, I pulled my niqab off since it was only my mother around.
"...Dare you!" It was my own mother's voice.
"I don't know why you are surprised, it was a long time coming," my mother-in-law replied, her voice louder.
When I got to the bottom floor, I knew the shouting was coming from the kitchen.
"If you think ––"
I cut my mother off. "Amma, Mum, what is going on?" I addressed the both of them.
This might sound silly but ever since I got married to Eijaz, he told me to call his mother Mum and so I've always referred to her in that way, whereas I grew up calling my mother Amma, which means Mum in Bengali.
Amma's back was towards me, facing Mum in front of her, while Mum was stood exactly where Khadra was last night when I was washing the dishes. They both turned to face me, neither of their expressions softening. Both of their faces were red with anger.
Amma was much older than Mum and it showed in her face; the way her wrinkles were more defined and the way little white, strands of hair that came out of the sides of her Hijab due to her glasses. Amma was also shorter than Mum by quite a bit. Mum, on the other hand, showed little sign of aging with little to none of her black hair engulfed with white. Her hazel eyes were as piercing as ever. She was slightly larger than Amma and where I found her height and weight, mixed with her demeanour intimidating, Amma was never bothered by this.
"What is this I'm hearing about Eijaz getting remarried?" Amma was fuming, now directing her anger at me.
I wish I hadn't gotten involved now.
I looked from Amma, then to Mum and back at Amma. Why was she asking me?
"Er, I don't know. Ask Mum." I tried to sound nonchalant, not wanting to give Mum the satisfaction but I could tell it didn't come across from my tone. I walked further into the kitchen.
Mum snorted. "Did you not teach your daughter anything? Ever since I got here who do you think does all the cleaning and cooking. My poor Eijaz would be nothing without me."
"Amma, look, it's not true."
I was beginning to tremble. Mum's words always stabbed at my heart. I was nothing more than useless in her eyes.
"Hafeezah, did I not teach you anything?" Amma asked, ignoring Mum but using her words anyway. She didn't give me a chance to answer. "Are you causing problems here as well? I taught you how to be a good wife. Did I not teach you manners? Did I not teach you how to respect your elders? Why are you not speaking up, I'm talking to you!"
"Amma, please listen," I began. "I ––"
"Don't talk back to me!" Amma cut in.
I let out a heavy sigh. I shouldn't even be surprised.
"See, look at her and you question why I want a better wife for my son. The shaytaan (devil) has gotten her good. I knew I was right! I told Eijaz that you're not good for him many times but he just didn't want to listen," she spat, venomously.
"Don't talk about my daughter like that! I won't let you ruin her life." Amma flipped her attention back to Mum.
They continued to go back and forth like this for a while and I just couldn't take it anymore so I ran back upstairs. Amma wasn't exactly the supportive mother that anyone would've liked but she always defended me when someone else spoke awful about me so it was nothing more than the norm for her to question my behaviour but then go on to tell someone off for them questioning my behaviour.
Once I got into my room, I took my hijab off and threw it, along with my niqab, onto the bed and sat next to them. My hands were in fists and I punched the bed either side of me. The words of both mother's echoed in my head.
Are you causing problems here as well? Was I really that troublesome growing up too, living with my parents? Did I not teach you manners? Of course she did, using the method of slapping as a means of discipline. Did I not teach you how to respect your elders? The Shaytaan has gotten her good. Over and over again, their words repeated in my head and chewed away at my self-esteem.
I needed some air.
~~~
A/N
Well, I hope this chapter gave justice to my imagination. I wanted to explore more of the relationship she had with her family. Please do let me know what you think in the comments and if there's anything I should improve.
Please check out werethesame's story! I am so in love with her writing style.
Thank you everyone who has read so far and commented! It makes me so happy to know that it is liked by someone at least.