She Had No Safe Place to Go, Except Inside Her Head
Chapter 8 of “Hold On”: Weekend at Home 2011
(N.B. I’m writing a novel, a chapter a week, here on Medium. Find out why I write here, start from Chapter 1 here, and always feel free to give me feedback in the comments. I write here for the community.)
Hira’s world was falling apart as she had seen her dreams shatter right before her eyes, unable to hold on to them. On the back of her father’s motorcycle, she was too preoccupied with her heartbreak to register the noisy cars whizzing past her. Despite the smoke and noise, Hira usually enjoyed her ride home as she could see all the fancy shopping plazas on the university road and catch glimpses of airplanes taking off from the airport as they passed by it on their route. Today, however, everything was a mute, colorless blur, and she was struggling to stop the tears in her eyes from pouring down.
After what seemed like a longer-than-usual ride, they reached home as the sun was just dipping into the horizon. Hira’s usual routine was to wash up, change, and help her mother prepare dinner. She had no energy for this now. She told her mother she was feeling unwell, and went straight to her room, ready for a breakdown. Outside, she could hear Nosheen shouting about how the university was spoiling Hira and making her neglect her domestic responsibilities. These domestic responsibilities were only for Hira and not her brothers, who would usually be playing outside while Hira worked around the house after her university. The usual “no one will marry such a woman” comment was thrown around, which would usually trigger Hira, but today, she was unaffected even by that. She just wanted to cry alone, but her little brother was in their shared room, and she could not even find the space to do that.
Hira lay down quietly, trying to tune out her mother’s loud comments about how she had to do all the housework alone in her old age. The pot stirring and dishwashing were louder than usual today. After some time, her brother went out of the room to eat. Aftab called Hira to join, but she said she was not hungry and wanted to sleep early. She just wanted to cry, but once again, her brother was back after eating. So, Hira stayed in bed in the same fetal position for hours, as her family moved around, talked, fought, and eventually slept.
And then Hira cried. She cried as she replayed Ahmed’s words in her head. His plans to leave, without even considering how it would affect Hira. The only person in her life who had ever looked at her with compassion and love was going to leave soon. She could imagine Ahmed in the U.S., with the same charming smile, going around sharing his stories, and making new friends. She could see no memory or space for herself in his new life. She didn’t know when she slept that night while crying.
The entire weekend went by much the same way. The nights were spent in tears and the days in some chores and more passive-aggressive comments from Nosheen about Hira’s unwillingness to help. During the afternoon, after washing the dishes from lunch, with Nosheen napping and the boys playing outside, Hira had some time and room to herself to reflect on the events of Friday. For the most part, she blamed herself for letting her guard down so quickly and assuming Ahmed’s feelings. It then dawned upon her, however, that she had been incredibly stupid to think she ever was any match for Ahmed. He belonged to a wealthy family living in a posh bungalow in Hayatabad, whereas she was living in a dilapidated, two-room house in Chamkani, where she had to hear the taunts of her mother daily. One after the other, her own thoughts and realizations were breaking her heart into smaller and smaller pieces. She wished she could let these feelings go. Let Ahmed go. This was not something new for her; she had been used to a life of humiliation and absence of love. Yet, despite this, she just could not help but hold on to her feelings for Ahmed and her dream of having someone like him in her life.
Lying in her bed, she mulled over whether she should share this with her mother, as she desperately wanted help to process and navigate this ordeal. But she knew this would make things worse. She was haunted by the thought of Monday morning, when she would have to face Ahmed. She thought of them together in the classroom for a few months before he leaves for the U.S. And then how she would feel once she could not see him, probably ever again. The thought made her heart ache. She kept blaming herself for ever believing he had any feelings for her, as he had never spoken of any such thing. Even if he had not been planning to leave, their friendship would have ended with the completion of their degrees. It was, therefore, stupid of her to grieve over the loss of something she never had, but again, she could not let go of the feelings of comfort and security that Ahmed had brought into her life.
The weekend seemed to drag on. The walls of her small house, especially coupled with the noise and comments from her family, were closing in on her. She wanted to go somewhere where she could process and cry in peace. She had no such place to go to, except inside her head, which she kept burdening with an onslaught of painful thoughts.
