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“You are planning to go to university in the US and not the UK why? Most of us want to go to the UK.”Good to know that I won’t be seeing any of them after I graduate.
“Come on, Mariam, the UK would be fun. Think about it.”
“I don’t know anyone in the UK, and the US is easier for me because I’m a citizen. My aunty is not giving me any choice in that regard, plus, I have a cousin who lives in Texas.” I present her with a wry smile.I hope that answers the question.Please don’t ask more questions.
“Okay, I understand.” Before I could speak, Nicky sashayed in excitedly, tossing her bag on the floor. She has also changed clothes. Why didn’t I think to change clothes? Nicky talks a mile a minute. About the latest jeans and fashion. I tune her out. Nicky is of average height. She’s in my undecided bucket because she blows hot and cold. She’s one girl who’s so sure her life will be perfect because she can smile her way through anything and in a split-second act like a big snob. Taimani tries to include me in the conversation, but I give monosyllabic answers not like Nicky notices or cares because she’s one of Lydia’s minions. I can only imagine what she would tell her.
The boys Tyler, Max, Tim, and Avner soon join us in the room. I have the same opinion of them. They are boisterous, arrogant, and full-blown privileged. But Avner is different; he’s quiet and keeps to himself. Tyler has some smarts, but he acts dumb to fit in with Max and Tim, who are just dull. Just like Nicky, they drop their bags and pounce on the food. They all ate, and then we got down to work. Our teacher had assigned us “Creating Awareness and Help for Battered Women” as the project.
I draft ideas, but the boys, especially Max, interrupt as soon as I start to speak. I soon get the verbal cue to embrace silence and decide that I will join the group but will do the project on my own. A few times, they would get up and go back into the house. I keep drinking since I’m to be seen and not heard. My need to use the bathroom soon became apparent.
I went in to find the bathroom. It can’t be that hard.
I start opening doors, and each door leads to another colored living room. I’m grunting inside and my need to pee keeps pressing. In my search, I knock into a vase and quickly catch it. Setting it back on the stand and continuing my quest for a bathroom.
How can it be this hard to find a freaking bathroom in this overly massive house? Pushing the next massive door open. It’s another sitting room, just how many seating areas do they need, and not enough bathrooms? I think rich houses have lots of bedrooms and bathrooms, but these only have sitting rooms. What’s their deal?
This is what I get for not asking Taimani where the bathroom is located because I didn’t want the first word out of my mouth in the group to be “Where is your bathroom?” I can hear the muffled laugh at the only poor girl that’s dumb enough to wear a uniform after school not knowing the location of the ladies like it’s a rich or poor thing to ask a simple logical question, but they somehow find every question, I ask, to remind me of my social status. “You are the poor girl,” my traitorous subconscious reminds me like I’m not overly aware that I look and feel out of place in the grandeur of the school crowd and this house. It’s already an established fact to all my classmates that I’m one percent of the one percent poor in that school and I’m only there because of the deep discount my aunt got as a teacher.
The reality of my need to use the bathroom hits again. I hope I find the damn bathroom soon before I pee on myself, which will not be a pretty sight. I’d hate to imagine the new name they would have for me. They seem to have a new one every week.
Skinny M.True,
Starving M.false,
Leggy M. isalso true. I move to the next door and push it open; my mind drops realizing it is not a bathroom but more like a large bedroom, there’s got to be a bathroom in here. I don’t care anymore if it feels like I’m snooping.
I need to pee, period! I headed towards the door on my right with urgency. “Please be a bathroom,” I mumble, then I hear the groaning, which makes me pause and turn toward the sound.
My eyes widen as I take in the hospital bed situated steps away from a giant king-sized bed. I am almost overwhelmed by the size of the room, which is larger than the house I share with my aunt and uncle.
When I notice the occupant’s sad face, his entire body encased in plaster casts, I feel embarrassed for staring, but the feeling doesn’t have time to sink in before my need presses again. “Where is the bathroom, please?” I asked. He raises a single finger that isn’t encased in plaster, showing the opposite end of the door I am heading towards. Without another word, I race toward the direction he points, not bothering to close the door or care if he can hear me.
I ease myself, moaning in relief that I didn’t pee on myself. Once done, I washed my hands and stepped back into the room. Now I notice more about him and the grand room with the cathedral ceiling and expensive looking drapes. My eyes roam the room shamelessly open, admiration for the grandeur before resting on the man covered in plaster cast and gauze. Large gauze covered the left side of his face and his head. His nose looks cracked, weirdly he looks good with the crack.
“Hi, I’m Mariam, thanks for letting me use your bathroom” He doesn’t respond. “I couldn’t find it.” I pause. He’s not saying a word. Maybe he isn’t even able to speak.” This is my first time here; your home is lovely.” I force a smile. “I almost knocked off a vase in my search for a bathroom, which would have been a total disaster.” A sad chuckle escapes me at the vase I almost knocked down in my quest for a bathroom. He doesn’t speak but I can feel his grey colored eyes on my face, so I look everywhere in the room but at him. “I didn’t ask Taimani for the nearest bathroom, which was stupid, but hey I found a bathroom thanks to you.” Silence. Silence.Awkward and more awkward.
I remain standing and him staring at me in awkward silence, and me staring at my feet and fidgeting with my braids. I know he can hear me, and he understands me. Maybehe can’t talk. The silence is deafening. Guess that’s my cue to leave. “Thanks again” I turn to leave, still unsure why I spilled all the extra stuff to him. Guess I don’t want him to think I’m snooping,now I care.
“Sit with me.” I hear the deep, croaky voice that stops me in my slow stride. I make a slow-motion turnaround. His gray eyes were so intense that it was hard to ignore his silent invitation, but I managed to look away. His chiseled face and cracked nose give him an attractive, edgy look.
A strange feeling of wanting to stay engulfs me. I quickly shut it out. I’m wondering why I’m still here. I shouldn’t have paused after peeing; I should’ve run out. My mind raves with a lot of shoulda, coulda, woulda just as I’m about to provide an excuse.
“Sit with me. I could use the company. I’m Naseer.” His deep voice is clearer now. I sigh, and stare at his eyes, as it entraps me again. I’ve never looked deeply into anyone’s eyes. My mom used to say it was inappropriate. I’m groomed to always look away, but his eyes had me stilled and my heart drumming against my rib cage. “Pull the chair,” he says, and I’m out of my second trance. I look around and see the chair by the door I was initially heading for, so I drag the chair close. I sit.
We remain staring at each other in silence. A feeling of dread creeps in me, that he would keep me locked up in this room, which would be impossible because he can’t move, so that’s not going to happen. I resume my interior, noticing the design of the cathedral ceiling, and the golden expensive drapes on the windows on each side of the king’s bed. His hospital bed looks custom to fit his height and size.
The marble flooring underneath my ballet flat is super shiny. I try not to squirm in my seat, but his grey piercing eyes are making me self-conscious.
“What’s your name?” He finally says something to break our silence.
“Jah-day, it’s spelled J. a. d. e” I state. Surprised, I gave him my middle name, which is my preferred name. My family and friends in my old school all call me Jah-day, here in Rhanaz, where I hide my grief and act like I’m a regular teenager. I’m Mariam.
“Nice to meet you Jah-day and I’m Naseer. I hope the bathroom met your need?”
My eyes widened in embarrassment; my skin flames up. Ohno, he didn’t just remind me.
“Don’t be embarrassed, I’m just asking?”
