Tides of Living

“Forbidden fruit, I see,” I said as Randa strolled into my room.

“Always the sweetest,” came her reply.

“Surely your infatuation with fruit will have left you some modicum of sight or literacy.” I went back to my work, breaking my pencil tip as she plopped down heavily onto my bed.

“Yeah, I read the sign. Really, Nawal. ‘Do Not Enter’? You’re so naïve. And enough with the smart talk. You should know by now that I’m not impressed.” She cast a smug look at the clutter around the garbage bin.

“Well, sis, to what do I owe this honor?” I replaced the sharpener onto its shelf, frustrated with her amusement.

“You know something? You should be thanking me.” Her dangling feet kicked back and forth, sending tremors to my writing hand. I laughed at her forwardness.

“Sure, you’re laughing now. But just wait until I’m gone. Whatever amount of life you had in you will have died.”

“Well, when that time comes, you can cry over me and bury me. Until then, I’ll thank you not to barge into my room while I’m working. “I sighed and tried to regain my focus.

Randa’s hand reached out into my open laundry hamper.

“I thought you said this shirt was cursed.”

I stopped writing to glance at my garment, the green stain prominently displayed like a birthmark.

“It is.”

“Well, why don’t you get rid of it?” She rose off of my bed, ready to do away with it.

“You can just put that back right where you found it, Randa.” I tossed my notebook aside, and moved to get it back from her.

“Okay, okay. Geez, don’t have a heart attack. I thought you intellectual types weren’t supposed to be superstitious.” She threw it back on top of the pile.

“It’s not superstition, it’s symbolism. The curse is broken when the stain ceases to exist. ”

“Sounds like superstition to me. But, whatever. Everybody needs to have something to be unreasonable about. Anyway, I came in here to ask you if you wanted to go shopping with me. I’m picking out my wedding dress today.” She resumed her kicking, gazing at her legs in concentration.

My eyes softened, and I held back a sigh.

“Randa, why are you doing this? “

Randa’s feet slowed to a halt, and her brown eyes looked intently into mine.

“It’s my choice.”

“But why can’t it wait until you finish med school?”

“Nawal, I’m not getting into this discussion again. We’ve been over it too many times.”

“Do you love him?” The words had come out unintentionally, but her tone relaxed, and she laughed.

“You mean like your romance stories? You know I don’t believe in that garbage.”

“So you’re handing yourself over to someone you don’t even love?” I said, adamant.

“I can be a doctor and be married at the same time, Nawal. It’s not the end of the world. I thought you would support me in this.” The accusation in her voice was plain, and her angry eyes pierced my heart.

“I’m trying to, but you aren’t listening. You’re being thoroughly irrational about this. Isn’t your dream important to you?” I had to hold my ground, though my heart was beating rapidly.

“What makes you think that you’re right? Holed up here in this messed-up corner of the house, writing love stories. You’ve lost your sense of reality.” The fumes of her words knocked the breath from my lungs.

“You always said you liked my writing,” I pleaded.

“That was last summer, Nawal. Last summer, when you read me your poem about us, our sisterhood. The only time you ever saw me cry. Why haven’t we been sitting there every day, like we did last summer?”

“So this is my fault?” I cried, mad at her.

“Yeah, it is. You know what? Have fun in your fantasy world. I’m out of here.” She stalked out and slammed the door.

I jumped up off my bed, but I could see her from the window, zooming away in her car. I sank back in my place, not even the ticking of a clock to distract me from my thoughts. And I waited.

She wasn’t coming back.

---

“You’ve got an excellent piece here, Miss Nawal. It’s exactly what our readers are looking for.” He gazed fondly at the paper in his hand.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Keep this up, and a promotion might be in your future.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Oh, and don’t forget that the deadline on your next installment is for next Friday.”

“No, sir. Don’t worry about a thing. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

I left him staring happily into space, no doubt imagining the mounds of money that would grace his doorstep soon. I closed the door behind me.

Sara appeared from around the corner.

“Hey, where are you off to?” We walked towards the door.

“Steve called and asked me to meet him at a restaurant.” I couldn’t suppress the excitement in my voice.

“Ooh. Do you think he’ll…”

“Yes, I think so. I think he is the one I’ve been waiting for. I’ve got to get home and change this shirt.” I opened my car door as we spoke.

“Hey, yeah. Why are you wearing it? I thought you hated that shirt.” She stowed her files into the front seat of her car.

“Actually, I said it was cursed. See, every time I wear it, it gets stained. But so far today, there’s not a mark on it. I’m taking that to be a good omen. Today might actually be my lucky day.”

“And Steve’ll be doing you a favor. You can finally move out of that old shed. You don’t even have any neighbors there.”

“You mean my workshop? I’m not giving that up. It’s where I dream and where I write.” My eyes must have misted over because Sara was laughing at me.

“OK, Cinderella. Off to your prince and your castle. The rest of us real people have got dinners to cook. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

I walked across the street towards my doorstep, sipping coffee and fantasizing about my dinner. A promotion, a husband, and a clean shirt; what more could I ask for?

I balanced my coffee in my full hand and pulled out my keys. Not even an acrobat could have pulled that off, and the slosh that followed was inevitable. I had hit rock bottom with this shirt, maybe it was time to get rid of it. I hung it up on the clothesline to await my final judgment, and rushed away.

“Good evening, madam, and welcome. What kind of table would you like today?”

“Actually, I’m meeting someone here. His name is Steve?” My eyes searched the tables for a familiar face.

“Ah, yes. The gentlemen requested that I escort you to a table. Right this way.” His tall form led the way towards a booth in the back.

“Thank you. I’ll just wait for him here.” I sat down expectantly.

Twenty minutes later, Steve still hadn’t shown. I got out my phone to call him, and spotted something white peeking out from under the plate. I picked up the envelope and read.

---

“He set me up,” I told Sara in a daze. I was driving back home, barely able to see the road in front of me.

“What? But I thought you said….”

“He’s married. I didn’t know! He never told me!” I tried to explain, to somehow justify my blindness and stupidity.

“Calm down, Nawal. He was never worth your trouble.” I could tell she was distracted.

“I thought he was the one. I was so sure, and he conned me.” I hadn’t reached my crying stage; the reality of it hadn’t hit me yet.

“Listen, Nawal, I’ll call you back later. Go home and relax, okay? Just hang in there.”

“Bye, Sara.”

I hung up the phone and my hand slumped down in front of me. The smell of a distant barbecue reached my nose as I sat there thinking. I had no one left. Randa, Sara, Steve—they’d all abandoned me. Or was this my fault?

I looked out my car window, and swerved into a tree. My car crumbled upon impact, but I was too absorbed to notice, my attention grabbed by the flames engulfing my home.

My home. My fantasy world.

I knew no more.

“Rise and shine.” The nurse smiled as only a nurse can. “The doctor will be with you shortly. You’re going to be fine.” She walked out the door.

My hollow expression stared back at me from the shiny metal surface in front of me. Had I always looked like that?

The doctor’s familiar face stunned me as she walked through the door. She had a small bundle in her hand.

“I have something for you. It’s all that was left,” my sister told me, sad and tired.

I could see the coffee stain amid the blackened cloth.

“Lucky,” I said.

• favorite this
• report a concern

Add your comment

You need to login or signup to add your comment to this work.

Tags:

ttc1