‘I don’t know what’s wrong with my sister. I don’t get her. Can you check she’s okay?’
She read the message on his phone when he was outside smoking. Her heart dropped and she knew immediately she had to leave. He was halfway through his cigarette when she met him outside.
“Do you want me to walk you to the station?”
“I am okay. I will see you next week.”
“I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
All he got was a text message.
The song they listened to was number one on her playlist.
“I dated a Kenyan girl once, and she showed me the exact same song,” she rolled her eyes.
“Okay, but I bet you’ve not heard THIS one,”
They were driving along the jam-packed streets of Dubai to “this epic sports bar that has a jukebox, trust me, you will love it”.
She hit play.
“I like this, humma humma humma humma humma,” she sang.
Now at the Epic Sports Bar With A Jukebox.
“You look cute smoking that cigarette,”
“Cute? I am supposed to be looking tough.”
They part ways before she could translate the song for her.
Song number two.
Her father came bearing gifts each time he would visit.
“Is everything okay? Here these are for you…”
His visits never had a set timing. Sometimes he’d stay a month. Sometimes two weeks. And sometimes an hour.
She’d take the gifts and run off.
A pattern she was now used to.
There was a shift in the pattern when she left home one day, unsure of whether she would return in a day, a week or two months.
“I want to be in a band. Imagine being like him, and having that sense of style? Come, let’s dance!”
“I can see that you are an expert at running away.”
Every day seems to be on repeat.
The discomfort of being in a place that carries so many memories. Fighting the urge to slip.
Eating. Sleeping. Smoking.
Scrolling endlessly through the happy faces on Instagram, what must it be like to be them?
Watching endlessly the fake happiness of people in the movies.
One friend is a doctor. One is getting married. One is moving to Canada.
Life isn’t really waiting.
(Picture credit: Pinterest)