When love withers
And the image of the weak vulnerable female figure shattered forever to me too. I looked to Yussef, looked him in the eyes, I made great effort to hold my lips from trembling and finally said “Yussef, we have no more chances together …”
He wanted to say something but I just moved my hands that he shut up and continued, I was trying to be so sane and objective
“Let’s be realistic as you have always been with me. You’re a man of actions not emotions, aren’t you?” I gave him a cynical smile and continued “Let’s listen to the sound of mind, I don’t know if I love you or not, and if I don’t, I really don’t know if I can re-love you … I don’t hate you either by the way, but that isn’t a good thing … you know … I just don’t feel you anymore!”
I couldn’t prevent the tear that forced itself down my shaking eyes and … oh God … that damn tear … it opened the door for many tears to trickle down … My chest started panting from my efforts to control myself and all of the sudden something heavy fell down on my lungs, and the dozen tears became hundred and the bitterness overwhelmed every corner in me. My voice, that had always been calm and confident, trembled and rose “know what, I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to touch you” my eyes suddenly opened and gazed in stray “I can’t sleep again with you, I can’t feel your skin touching mine. I will always remember it has touched another woman. I don’t know her, but I will always see her, I will smell her … Oh Yussef … why did you do that to me? Why did you do that to me? I loved you … I wanted a life with you … I just wanted you in my life … I needed your hug … You never kissed me before you sleep as I always asked you, oh except in sex of course pardon me, but being near gave me the sense of security. You never held my hand as I have always wished, but I tried to find all ways to get us closer … to find romance … to fill the gap … you … after all that … betrayed me with …”.
Mama came in, she requested him to go out. She held me tight to her chest. She had that smell about her … the smell that always warmed my senses. She said it was ok. But I knew it wasn’t and I knew that she felt it wasn’t either. I was shaking, feeling cold and hot, laughing and crying. It wasn’t the act of betrayal that really devastated me; it was the negligence of my pride in his mind. He didn’t think of his reactions if he just knew I talked or flirted with someone else! Oh but he was a man, I am the woman.
I took off my short black dress and wore white cotton pajamas. I choose a sports type of thing with a hood at the back, sleeves that reach half my hands and could cover my fingers if I wanted. The weather wasn’t cold. But I wanted to feel warm. I asked mama for a cup of green tea with mint … I turned on my bed light and switched off all other lights. I opened the window screens to smell the breeze. It was one of those rare days when it rains and the weather is just perfect. I asked no one to knock on my door that night. I didn’t want to stay or talk with anyone. I made a nice stack of pillows to rest my back, slid under my light cover and held the green tea in my favorite big mug with both hands. I didn’t take a sip. I just smelled the green tea and wanted the warmth of the mug to swipe and cover me. The breeze that came from the window played with my hair and drew a faint smile on my face. After all, Allah wanted to soothe me with something, even if it was air.
Yes, I always wanted to believe in a God over there. I was never convinced that there was no God. I could always see Him … in the vast sky that goes as far as the eye can see … in the vivid colors of nature that no human made colors can rise to compare … in the bright light of the sun that no light poles can match … in the unexplainable facts in life … in the endless sequential question of ‘who created this?’ that will ultimately take you to Him who created and wasn’t created … Allah.
I wasn’t the most virtuous Muslim on earth. I hardly prayed my five prayers a day. I had always rejoiced when I had my period because I don’t have to pray or fast and I could also wear manicure all the time. I rarely read Quran. I wasn’t a very good ritual praciticer. On the other hand, I always watched my tongue and eye which I believed could hurt and sin beyond imagination. I always thought about the words I said and the way I looked. I made sure I never talked about anyone in a bad manner from behind his back. I made sure I never looked at what people wore or had. I was satisfied in what I have; or more precisely tried to make myself always satisfied with what I had. I focused on morals and values like Prophet Mohamed who was the best in terms of morals.
But God has failed me in this! Was it because I didn’t pray well?! Could it be that He is preserving something better for me? I always thought that way. I always wanted to feel it that way. That way was much more soothing. That way was much more helping.