Chapter 9 (continued)

Posted: May 19, 2014 in Uncategorized

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CHAPTER 9 (continued)

I lay in bed starring at the ceiling, worried. Where is he? It has been nearly three hours already since he left and my mind is racing. Has he had an accident? Has he been hijacked? Did something happen to the car? Or, Has he just lost track of time? I resist the urge to phone and be the nagging wife. Well I resist the urge to phone AGAIN. After two hours of debating ,should I or shoudn’t I?, I did. I dialed his mobile and it went straight to voicemail. It’s just gone midnight and he hasn’t called me back yet. Maybe his cellphone battery is flat. Trying to console myself I think of the few times in the past that he came home so late. He was mostly just catching up with the boys.

I‘m sure that’s what is happening tonight. He hasn’t seen Moosa in such a long time, they probably standing at the car talking not realizing the time. The thought does bring  some comfort, and with that, some sleep.

When I awake startled I immediately check my phone. No calls and it’s nearly one am. He isn’t in bed and I don’t even see his jacket that he usually hangs on the coat hanger when he gets home. Panic sets in as I grab my phone and jump out of bed looking for any signs of him. The lights are still on in the passage downstairs so I’m not walking in the dark. I try to filter my thoughts. What will I do if something did happen? Who will I call? Waseem? My father-in-law? My minds willingness to even consider a plan frightens me and threaten tears. No, I think, not another call like that. I couldn’t manage. I think back to the day I got the call about my mother. My heart starts to thump in my chest and my breath quickens. Suddenly I hear something, and see the beam of light through the drawn curtains, thrown from the headlights of Yusuf’s car as he turns towards the garage. I sigh a huge sigh of relief and then dash upstairs, embarrassed at my emotional state. I don’t want him to see me like this.

I’m tucked up in bed pretending to be fast asleep when Yusuf comes into the bedroom. I offer a silent dua thanking Allah for bringing him home safely despite my crazy thoughts. He throws his jacket and clothes over the coat hanger and gets into bed. I’m so relieved that he is safe I don’t care about explanations. When he wraps his hand around my waist and holds me, I smell cigarette smoke on him. Yusuf doesn’t smoke and I wonder if Moosa does, as I drift off to sleep.

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