30/1/2022.
Happy new year:). . . . . . . . . .
Barakah
"What brings you here today Barakah?" Celeste was a middle aged woman now, tones of silvery strands in her long brunette hair conveying the era of life she was now settled into.
Several years ago, when Barakah had initially met her, she was a fresh Muslim revert in her late thirties whose family had immigrated from Spain when she was no more than a kid of seven years old.
When they had first met, Barakah was a broken teenager who had nothing in her but a hopeless lens she used to stare into the world.
When they first met, they were both settling into new paths and both had something to give to the other that was more than just an exchange of services and banknotes: Guidance.
"I got married to him," She didn't hesitate to pause even with the tightened, intense scrutiny Celeste wore, "I had too actually. . . . . We both had too I think," Processing that information from what both her twin sister and A.J had told her.
"My father would've gone to jail if I hadn't. The family business would've burned to the ground. We would be ridiculed by society. . . . . But I don't really know to an extent, why he married me."
Celeste sat up straighter, firmer. A squeezing grip overcoming the poor cup of coffee she had prepared for them. Barakah could see the weariness in the woman's eyes. A court of dilemma playing in her head, trying to pick between professionalism or letting her own feelings about touch on the matter.
There's a break of time between them. . . .
Tick,
Tock,
Tick,
Tock,
Tick,
Tock.
What was it going to be?
Barakah took that time to admire the homeliness of her living room. Everything was tasteful, voguish with a shadow of decor pieces from the era of time she was young, her golden age. it was just Celeste there. Occasionally, her twin daughters would come around for the holidays.
How old would they be now? Ah, thirty-two. Celeste was very young when she had them. Thirteen.
A pre-teen mom. Her parents had kicked her out. She'd then live with the boy's family till she was done with high school before moving to NewYork with her twins and their father for college. They were very young at that time, thirteen and fifteen with the world's shattering odds against them but they survived. Married even when she was twenty-five until life happened, again.
He had cheated, she fell out of love and they divorced when she was thirty-five. Their twins however, had blossomed well. One was a surgeon and the other was big shot model who often graced the biggest covers and runways. They were both happily married and Celeste adored her grandchildren.
"How long has it been? How do you feel about it now and how did you feel about it then?"
Ding ding ding.
Professionalism for the win.
"It's been months, seven months now," Swallowing the swiftness of time down her throat, "At the beginning, my unhinged world had crumpled all over again. It was. . . . It was, it was. . ." Anger gushing in her at her lack of words. She could only grit her teeth, hard.
"It was a betrayal that only God could do justice for." And that perfectly did right to Barakah's frustration. That was what made Celeste consummate. Her ability to fill in the gaps of emotional turmoil in a person.
"Yes, exactly that," leaning more into the snugness of her couch, "It was awful. . . . Devastating in a way that made me want to slit my own throat or renounce humanity and turn to clay, remain as clay."
Her voice was sound, no croaks, no cries, no whimpers. . . . . No sign of any storms of tears.
"Astaghfirullah." They both voiced out. Reminding themselves of the only Almighty.
"Then as time went on, I went through so many disfiguring, breaking and even dear I say, welcoming transitions. He has a son that I love a love that's so new and strange. I want to protect him, I want to raise him. . . . . I want to be proud of him. I planned on loving him from the moment I heard he was in the picture but I didn't think it was going to be so—feel so right."
"At the start of everything, I was resentful, an empty body of rage and bitterness. . . . . I think I've invested all the anger, fury and bitterness in the world that it's part of me now. It's like I've nurtured it like a garden that it's thriving inside me honestly," For the first time since she had set foot into her therapist's home, her voice shook with concern, for herself.
"And I can't tell myself otherwise. . . . I don't know how to live anymore without antagonizing or being unhappy. . . . I want to be happy Celeste. How do I truly make myself happy again?"
"Now, I've become familiar with my new life. Even if there's little joys to it, one of my greatest joys in life is my son. I've also gotten to know more about Jalal. He's not been a bad person to me up until stealing my legal documents and taking his boy with. I've been trapped her for almost three months. But can I honestly blame him too? I played dirty first by taking his son and fleeing the country."
Celeste adjusted herself in her chair, "I'm not surprised. You were hedged in like a hen. Too many fences in such little time. You panicked and did what a lot of people in tough situations do. Run away from their problems in the guise of something else. Yours could be two of the matter. Either, you wanted to rebel or you were too fed up to live another miserable day in a murky head and an even more disheveled life. . . . . So you up and left because deep down, you're not sure if whether or not you'll live to survive your life back home or simply just quit leaving on the inside."
Barakah adjusted, seating right back up, "No, it wasn't that Celeste. . . . In the moments since I'd been wed to him, I had experienced the most freedom in my life."
Barakah's steps matching her Uncle's as she remained a few steps behind him contemplating her cold but gainful morning with Celeste.