Pale_death's den

Heba Jasim’s dad was dying, or at least that was what Ajwad was saying.

Her heart was beating profusely, it sounded like the old wall clock at her Grandmother’s place. If she placed a hand on her chest, she could feel it against her hands. She mumbled discursive sentences, her hands were shaking. And if she wasn’t sitting, she could’ve fallen.

“Heba, are you okay?” Farha’s soothing voice did nothing to ease her worry. Ajwad was talking; she couldn’t make out what he was saying. She stared at Farha’s photo that was pasted on the wall. The edges had stood up, and a toothless seven-year-old Farha was smiling. Her heart panged, Ajwad was talking again. The bed dipped, and a horrified-looking Farha took her trembling hand in hers.

She ignored Farha’s question, and asked Ajwad instead, “Sorry, what were you saying?”

It was obvious he was nervous, and whatever happened broke him down. His rough voice that was slightly deep, uttered, “Dad couldn’t move, his knees are swollen too. He didn’t mention it today; I mean he could’ve. He fainted too, his temperature-God! I don’t even know where to start. I just don’t know what to do, Heba. Mom-”

She could imagine Ajwad wiping his eyes with the hem of his shirt; he did that when he was emotional and had to remind himself that everything was going to be okay. He said it calmed him too. The tears welled up in her eyes before she could stop them, she watched absentmindedly at the cream-colored wall in Farha’s room. She was speechless; it was the last thing she needed to hear.

Ajwad cleared his throat, “Dad’s at the hospital now, Mom’s staying with him. I could’ve gone with them, but Mom said I needed to stay back to inform you. I wasn’t planning on staying back though; I’m taking a cab to the hospital. I’m sorry if that was the last news you wanted to hear, I probably ruined your girl’s time. How is Farha doing?”

The last four words hurt her more than she could admit. Why was he asking about Farha when their dad was in pain? He might be dying. She shook her head at the thought, yet, it crept its way into her brain. She shook her head, again and again. It was still there. Heba shrugged Farha’s hands away from her. She wanted to be alone, she needed to be alone. Even staying in the same space with someone when she’s vulnerable was frustrating.

She stepped away from the bed and sauntered to the door. “Is Dad dying?”

The words poured out of her mouth before she could stop them. There was an unsettling feeling deep within her that couldn’t be explained. She was suffocating, different scenarios played out in her head.

The room was quiet, except for her footsteps that echoed. She walked in circles, the seconds were unending. Ajwad’s voice softened when he murmured, “He is not?”

The words came out as a question rather than a reassurance. Ajwad was lying, his voice wavered. He gulped down before he said, “I’m at the hospital. I should go.”

She didn’t even know which hospital her dad was in. Ajwad wasn’t too sure himself. Sometimes, she tended to forget who was older, he was good at dealing with such situations; he made sure their mom attended her father’s funeral when everyone failed. He remembered everyone’s birthday off-hand while she couldn’t, Ajwad was there for her. She gazed at her phone aimlessly, the tears were falling again, and this time she let them.

A warm arm hugged her from behind; she almost melted into the touch and forgot about what she was told. There was a part of her that couldn’t come to the term with it.

“Come on, let’s go. Mom will take you there.” She nodded at Farha. She wasn’t looking forward to meeting her dad, she didn’t tell her that though.

The door slammed so hard, the walls shuddered. Khala rushed towards the two girls and hugged Heba. She looked younger in the floral pink dress she wore; the veil hid her long curly hair that stopped mid-shoulder. Her brown skin shone like it never did, Heba knew it had something to do with a certain skincare product she persuaded her mom into buying.

“I will drop you off.” She adjusted Heba’s ash-colored veil that had managed to slip away from her head. Golden Sun City was huge, she was clueless as to how Khala was planning to do so, she could’ve called Ajwad, but she knew he wouldn’t pick up. Khala’s grip on Heba’s arm loosened, and she tugged her towards the open door, before she instructed Farha sternly, “Grab my car keys, and my wallet too.”

She answered Heba’s unasked question, “I talked with your mom.”

The road was endless, it stretched on and on. Heba wished she could just fly to Golden Sun City Hospital. If it were up to her, she could’ve been there by now. She took hold of her pink purse, tracing the roses drawn on it. She would sigh occasionally, but that was when they stopped at a traffic light junction.

The car ride was quiet, the black Toyota which was normally filled with laughter of the two friends filling each other on their day or what they came across and wanted to share. Heba was too worried to indulge in a conversation, while Farha was glancing at the blurred images of the buildings, and trees as they passed by.

Let him be okay, please. Heba chanted in her head. The words were absurd to her ears, she fidgeted with the doorknob. At one point, she wanted to jump out of the door.

She paid no attention to the delivery vehicle that parked before the house next door, nor to the items that were carried in no doubt it belonged to the new tenant. They could’ve betted with Farha whether the occupants would be elderly, a family, a newly wedded couple, or bachelors any other day. She was sure Farha would win; she was good at the guessing game after all.

The car came to a stop in front of their house. Heba glanced at the door wearily after they were led in by the doorman. She could almost hear the laughter of her father; it had only been five hours since she left home for Farha’s.

“I have to carry blankets,” Khala informed her, “Your Mom said the room might be cold.”

Khala easily accessed the door. She was given the spare keys when Heba’s mom and she became best friends. Heba glanced at the sky through the half-opened window, she could’ve admired its beauty if she was in a different circumstance. The cloud had encompassed the sun. Although it was August, the rainfalls were infrequent.

Farha leaned forward, her head peaking from the front seat. She leaned in closer and uttered faintly, “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry too.