‘No, I don’t think so.’ My voice sounds more clipped than I know it should. Because Mayaisa guest here and I’m a server.
Ever since Aisha mentioned this catering job several weeks ago, I’ve been waiting to get a call. The pay is good – enough to help me keep up with my rent and bills at least for a little while, until I find something permanent. Jana had said that we would be catering a fundraiser. It was only when I arrived, several hours ago, that I realised what exactly it was a fundraiser for. I couldn’t duck out then. I needed the money. Besides, it wasn’t like I had a valid excuse anyway. I could barely even justify it to myself.
But running into Maya? That was just the tip of the iceberg. The whole thing makes me feel like the universehas some kind of sick sense of humour and is determined to make me the butt of its joke.
‘There’s some extra uniforms in the back over there. Try not to run into anyone else.’ Jana points to a corner with a rack of identical uniforms.
I want to tell her that it wasn’tmyfault, it was Maya’s, but that would just make me look incompetent. So I give her an appreciative nod and move towards the rack, stripping off my shirt and putting on a new one.
I grab a tray of drinks from the kitchen counter and move out into the events hall once again, though this time my eyes are already looking for Maya. So that I can avoid her. At least that’s what I tell myself. Somewhere, though, in the back of my mind, I want to see her again. There was a moment before when we both felt frozen in time. She had looked at me with that deer-in-the-headlights expression. There was something about her – there has been something about her ever since she came back. She’s different than she used to be, but I can’t put my finger on it. I want to write it off as haughtiness because she’s some kind of celebrity football player now, but that isn’t what it seems like.
Back when we were in school together, Maya was always so sure of herself. She always had her hand up first when any of the teachers asked a question, she always wanted to be one of the captains when we chose teams. She always wanted to prove that she was better than anyone else, and most of the time shedidprove it. But now I realise that that spark behind Maya’s eyes is what is missing. That surety of herself. Instead, she seems more vulnerable now. Like she wants to hide herself away, instead of rise up to the challenge. Definitelynotthe Maya that I used to know.
But it isn’t any of my business. At least that’s what I tellmyself while roving through the crowd once more.
I smile at guests and offer them drinks, all the while with my mind constantly drifting back to Maya. It’s not my job to worry about her, I tell myself, but she seemed off when she ran into me.
Finally, I spot her on the other side of the room. She doesn’t look like a deer in headlights anymore. She looks distraught as she pushes past people, her face a curtain of worry as she stumbles out of the room.
I look back at the host of servers walking around. I know that I shouldn’t follow Maya. I’ve already made enough of a scene and I need this job. But it’s like my mind and legs are in an ongoing battle, because without even thinking it through, my legs begin carrying me towards Maya. Soon, I’m following her out the door of the events hall.
For some reason, I’m expecting her to be waiting on the other side of the door, but of course, she isn’t there. In fact, she’s nowhere in sight. For a moment, I wonder if she’s left completely. A little thread of worry worms itself into my chest. There was definitely something wrong with her. It wasn’t like at the park. She didn’t have that determination, that passion and righteousness that always got under my skin. She didn’t seem like the Maya that I know.
Then again, I haven’t known Maya for a long time now.
Still, my worry niggles at me enough that I lay down my tray on one of the tables and step towards the lobby of the hotel, looking around for Maya’s familiar form. But she’s not there.
I walk to the exit, pushing the door open and peering around the corner. She’s not there either. There’s no sign of her. The little thread of worry grows bigger with every passing second.
I would call Maya if I had her phone number, but of course I don’t.
Just as I’m about to give up my search, I spot the hem of her dress, peeking out from a corner hidden behind a large fern. She’s tucked herself into the furthest nook of the hotel lobby. Clearly, she doesn’t want to be found. And maybe if I hadn’t seen her walking out, looking the way she did, I would have left her alone.
Instead, I stride towards her. She’s sitting with her back against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest, and her head buried in them. She looks so small sitting like that; like half the person that she is.
I sit down next to her. Maya’s breathing is shallow and fast. I put an arm on her shoulder, and she looks up. A flicker of something passes in her eyes as she takes me in, but I’m not sure what that something is. All I see is the panic behind her eyes, the way her fingers shake, even as they’re wrapped around her knees.
I’m not alien to panic attacks – Ma used to have them all the time right after Baba passed away. Deen and I would sit with her back then, not sure what to do, how to take away her fears and anxieties, how to bring her back to reality. We’ve learned since those early days.
Now I rub my arm up and down Maya’s shoulder, trying to soothe her. I tell her to count her breaths in and out, slowly, and she actually listens to me and follows my lead. After a few minutes, her breathing is back to normal, her fingers have stopped their shaking. She brushes away a few tears that have gathered on her cheeks, smudging a little bit of her make-up away, and sniffles.
‘Sorry,’ Maya whispers, sounding completely unlike herself.
‘For what?’
‘I don’t know. Being a mess, or whatever,’ she says. She’s not looking at me anymore. She’s looking at the floor.
‘If being a mess requires an apology, then I’m in trouble,’ I say with a sigh. When Maya barely reacts to that, I bump my shoulder against hers. I do it so she stops miserably staring at the floor. What I don’t expect is that spark of electricity that the moment’s touch sends through me.
Maya finally looks at me, but there’s no humour in her eyes. ‘You don’t have to do this, you don’t have to be here. You don’t … owe me anything.’
‘If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be,’ I say. ‘And if you want me to leave, just say the word.’
Maya doesn’t look away and neither do I. She parts her lips, but initially all that escapes from them is a sigh.
‘I don’t want you to leave.’ Her words make my pulse race, but I try not to read anything into that.
‘So, you want to tell me what’s wrong?’ I ask.
