❝ I know. I could be happy until midnight if I wanted to. But what about after midnight? What about two AM? What about four AM? What about months and even years later?
I don't want to let him in knowing sometime in the future I'd have to let him go...
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
Daneen dug her fingers deeper into her bag, her frustration rising by the minute as she was nowhere closer to getting to her house keys.
"I thought you'd forgotten your way back."
Daneen looked up. Gloomy gray eyes. Rough beard. Messy mop of salt and pepper hair on his head. Raspy voice, and a torn patch over his brown salwar kameez.
"Hello Baba."
Abbas shifted the plastic see-through bag, with a few apples in it, from his right hand to his left as he pulled out a small key from his pocket.
He smiled as he led them in, grabbing the duffel bag from Daneen's hands even as she held it away from him.
"Welcome home."
Abbas walked to the small kitchen as he pulled out two mugs and a kettle from the cabinet. Turning on the stove, he filled the kettle with tap water and placed it over the burning fire.
Abbas then sat down cross legged on the floor, leaving the only chair in the house for Daneen to sit down.
"Get up, Baba."
"You're probably not used to sitting on the bare floor anymore," Abbas laughed, purely out of humor. "I had some money saved so I had this built for you for when you'd come back."
Daneen stared at a point on the gray wall before her before she reluctantly slid herself onto the chair. It was wobbly and Daneen was sure it would come apart any second now. But she stayed put for Abbas.
Abbas put both his hands on his knees. The father daughter sat in absolute stillness, the barely audible whistles of the kettle serving as background music.
"You shouldn't have left, Daneen."
"Says the man who prepared for my arrival."
"You're always welcome here. But I didn't send you away for you to come back."
Daneen passed him a small smile. "If you want to get rid of me, just let me know."
Abbas tilted his head in wonder. "I like him, you know. Tabish. He's a good guy. He could probably—"
"No." Daneen shook her head. "He's not worth it."
Abbas continued nevertheless. "He could probably give you the life I never could provide Ammara."
Daneen swept her glance around the empty house, with no sign of her mother in sight. "Baba, it's not your fault."
"She never said it, but she regrets this. Us."
Abbas put his arms around his knees. In just a matter of the three months Daneen had been away, her father's bones had started to become far more apparent. Time had worn him out.
In the heavy silence that ensued, the kettle whistled.
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
I don't know why this chapter was physically painful to write.
