He looked up quickly and said, “I’m talking with Abdul — he always makes me laugh. You know how he is with jokes.”
I smiled and said, “Really? He still cries at the sight of a bride and can’t look at one without thinking about wedding ceremonies.”
We chatted while he was on the phone until half past eleven before we went to the bedroom to sleep.
The need to urinate woke me; I sat up and was surprised Mahfuz wasn’t in the room. I checked — maybe he had dozed off on the quilt we were wrapped in, but he wasn’t there.
I listened carefully and I thought I heard him in the bathroom. When I raised my head the bedroom clock read 2:15 a.m.
I got up slowly, wondering where Mahfuz had gone since I knew he didn’t usually go to the bathroom at night because I hadn’t heard anyone move.
I switched on the bedroom light and went to the slightly-open bedroom door. If I touched the door it could make a noise and wake him, and I wanted to hear what he was saying. I was shocked to hear him speaking — and to whom? — at this hour, leaving me alone in the room.
Carefully I came out of the room without letting the door creak. I walked toward the parlor through a narrow corridor. Only the light from his phone lit the place; the parlor light was off.
“Hey, I can’t really see you — what’s that?” I heard a man’s voice say loudly; it startled me right into my core because of the movement I felt inside me.
I didn’t move; I stood listening to his conversation and could hear the woman’s lower voice coming through.
“I don’t want you to turn on the light — I woke up Ameera. Now you can’t see me,” she said.
“You must be joking — don’t make me think I’m dreaming for nothing,” the woman said, giggling as if teasing him. As he was about to speak I couldn’t hold my breath any longer and let it out, and he flung his phone away quickly and said, “Lubna!”
Even though my body was shaking and I was sweating, I forced myself to steady my breathing and said, “I woke up because I needed the bathroom — I didn’t see you in the room so I came out.”
“Oh — I heard movement outside and came out to see who it was — I even went outside,” he said, leaning to take his phone. I turned and kept trembling, went back to the bedroom and moved behind him, saying nothing. He thought burglars had entered the neighborhood and didn’t say anything; I lay down and pulled the blanket over me because I felt a certain fever and he tried to cover me.
He lay down beside me and tried to hug me; I feared if I rejected him he would suspect me of something because of what he had been saying with that woman.
The way I felt made me unable to accept his embrace — it felt like he was burning me, so I pulled away. I didn’t want to speak because it might reveal what I was feeling. I wanted to calm down and think clearly.
When I pulled away he didn’t hold me; he said, “Okay, baby, don’t touch me then,” and turned away, pulling the blanket over his head.
I stared at his back as his words echoed: “I can’t really see you — what’s that? You must be joking — don’t make me think I’m dreaming for nothing.”
He looked up quickly and said, “I’m talking with Abdul — he always makes me laugh. You know how he is with jokes.”
I smiled and said, “Really? He still cries at the sight of a bride and can’t look at one without thinking about wedding ceremonies.”
We chatted while he was on the phone until half past eleven before we went to the bedroom to sleep.
The need to urinate woke me; I sat up and was surprised Mahfuz wasn’t in the room. I checked — maybe he had dozed off on the quilt we were wrapped in, but he wasn’t there.
I listened carefully and I thought I heard him in the bathroom. When I raised my head the bedroom clock read 2:15 a.m.
I got up slowly, wondering where Mahfuz had gone since I knew he didn’t usually go to the bathroom at night because I hadn’t heard anyone move.
I switched on the bedroom light and went to the slightly-open bedroom door. If I touched the door it could make a noise and wake him, and I wanted to hear what he was saying. I was shocked to hear him speaking — and to whom? — at this hour, leaving me alone in the room.
Carefully I came out of the room without letting the door creak. I walked toward the parlor through a narrow corridor. Only the light from his phone lit the place; the parlor light was off.
“Hey, I can’t really see you — what’s that?” I heard a man’s voice say loudly; it startled me right into my core because of the movement I felt inside me.
I didn’t move; I stood listening to his conversation and could hear the woman’s lower voice coming through.
“I don’t want you to turn on the light — I woke up Ameera. Now you can’t see me,” she said.
“You must be joking — don’t make me think I’m dreaming for nothing,” the woman said, giggling as if teasing him. As he was about to speak I couldn’t hold my breath any longer and let it out, and he flung his phone away quickly and said, “Lubna!”
Even though my body was shaking and I was sweating, I forced myself to steady my breathing and said, “I woke up because I needed the bathroom — I didn’t see you in the room so I came out.”
“Oh — I heard movement outside and came out to see who it was — I even went outside,” he said, leaning to take his phone. I turned and kept trembling, went back to the bedroom and moved behind him, saying nothing. He thought burglars had entered the neighborhood and didn’t say anything; I lay down and pulled the blanket over me because I felt a certain fever and he tried to cover me.
He lay down beside me and tried to hug me; I feared if I rejected him he would suspect me of something because of what he had been saying with that woman.
The way I felt made me unable to accept his embrace — it felt like he was burning me, so I pulled away. I didn’t want to speak because it might reveal what I was feeling. I wanted to calm down and think clearly.
When I pulled away he didn’t hold me; he said, “Okay, baby, don’t touch me then,” and turned away, pulling the blanket over his head.
I stared at his back as his words echoed: “I can’t really see you — what’s that? You must be joking — don’t make me think I’m dreaming for nothing.”