The Colors Of Love - Episode 5

 

The shrill ringing of the alarm from my phone wakes me up from my peaceful slumber. I almost fling the stupid phone but stop just in time remembering the precious books I have stored in there. I check the time and its 3:30 am_ I grumble a few cuss words and smack the phone lightly before I come out of my net.

I cam imagine my phone scratching its behind and grumbling back at me as well.

Phone: why did you smack me? I just did what you ordered me to? Its not like I asked you to wake up and pray_duh

Me: Keep shut and stop grumbling. I was having an amazing dream.

I chuckle quietly to myself and make my way outside to pee and perform ablution . Night prayers are my everyday tradition. I pray every single night except when I'm critically ill or I have  my period. And the funny part is I ask God for only two things. Every frigging single day.

I beg Him everyday to heal the backbone of my existence. The only love of my life. My Father, Hakim Garba.

And the ability to let go of the one person whose love I crave the most. The one person to whom I technically don't exist. The one person I'm supposed to be closest to.

My mother. Najmah Omar.

Earlier i used to pray that she remembers that she has me

All episodes of this story can be found here >> https://www.ebonystory.com/story/the-colors-of-love

. That she treats me like a person, like a daughter. She left when I was six. From what I remember of her, she had eyes the color of an autumn leaf, a chestnut red in the center and browning outwards. She had long, silky, shiny black hair that flowed to her hips. She's the prettiest woman in the whole universe. She met my father when she came for a school trip to Nigeria_ where he was undergoing his masters then. The two fell heads over heels in love and they got married a few months later.

They lived happily for two years until they had me. I was nothing like her_the only feature of hers I had were her amber eyes_apart from that, I was black, ugly and had short, unappealing hair. She hated me at sight.

My dad had to hire a nursing nanny to breastfeed me. The last time my mother carried me was after I turned one and she was convinced I would never look anything like her and  my father. My dad was also a very good looking man. Fair Fulani man, with russet brown eyes, a long dainty nose and curly hair_he was the definition of handsome. They looked like the celebrity couples you saw on TV_Pretty and perfect.

People's comments to my dark skin and plain features only aggravated her hatred for me. My dad tried to convince her to accept who I was but she refuted all his attempts to love me not to talk of having another child. She only became distant, and bitter towards both of us_me for being mundane and he, for loving me unconditionally.

He tried to fill her void for me and for those few years, it worked. He told me to work hard and be a bright student_that perhaps when she sees how smart I've become, she'd soften up and accept me. But it only seemed I became more invisible to her. All she cared about was attending social functions and showing off her expensive clothes and jewelry. After six tiring years of tolerating me and my father_her parting words to us were_ "Live your mundane and useless Nigerian life with your ugly daughter Hakim. If only I'd known your relatives weren't as good looking as you were, I'd never have married you. You lied to me and for that I hate you both. I'm not staying a moment under your roofs. I'm going back to Morocco to marry my billionaire cousin_where I'd live in riches and have pretty children".

To say my father was heartbroken was an understatement. He was shattered. He had loved her deeply and a few months after she left, he suffered a stroke that left him bedridden till the present day now_For fourteen years.

I only see him once a month. He's in a secluded room in the ICU section of ABUTH. He can only move his face and right hand.

I snap out of my little flashback/reverie when I hear Ilhaam talking in her sleep. She does it all the time and while sometimes its reeeally annoying, today I welcome the distraction. I stand properly and go on to offer my prayers. By the time I'm done, I can already hear distant calls of the subhi prayer. So I get up to pray before going back to sleep. Its a Sunday so I can sleep all I want.

I'm faraway in dream number two, whose details I cannot remember, when I'm jerked back to earth by Ilhaam's squealing voice. It seems she's on the phone and whatever news she got is good news.

It better be awesome news cos girl, Ama punch your pretty face if it ain't good enough.

I sit on the bed, trying to rub the sleep off my eyes, when she tugs the net off my bed and enfolds me in a bone crushing hug. She keeps chanting 'Oh My God, Oh My God.. Aarfa'. Before I can comprehend a word, she's swirling me around and making me dance.

"Ilee, calm down please. I'm dizzy. What happened? It had better be good wallah, else I'm so going to punch your face" I snap in a slightly irrlitated voice. I'm not a morning person, I'm always cranky, especially when I'm woken up.

"I just got Nabeel's number. Ya ilahi. I'm so happy" she sang, twirling around.

Aliyah who had jumped from her bunk, let out a sigh and whispered "Alhamdulillah, we'll have some peace now."

Ilhaam was too busy dancing to notice. Aliyah and I shook our heads and went on to do our respective chores. I cooked and they cleaned. We danced and sang and talked about guys_more like talked about Jaafar and 'Nabeel'. Ilhaam kept asking what she was going to say to Nabeel_debating on sending him a message or chatting him up on WhatsApp. Aliyah and I ignored her for the whole day as she kept blabbering. It wasn't amusing anymore but we couldn't tell her that_she'd just start crying if we did.

The day passed in a blur and before you could say 'Gesundheit', it was night and we were awake early because it was Monday. Normal people hate Mondays but not me. I looove Mondays. Ask me why.

Why?

Because I have physiology class on Mondays from 8 am to 12am and physiology is my favorite class_not because the lecturer, Dr Abdulrahim is one hot human and looks like a black version of Flynn rider. Even their sarcasm level is almost the same. But nope. The only reason why I love physiology is because I love physiology.

Dr Abdulrahim speaks like a Brit_perfect English and all. I swear the first time I saw him I ran to Aliyah screaming "Wallah I just saw Flynn rider" and she's like "Excuse me, who?" And I repeat 'Flynn Rider ". She glared at me before saying " Riiight, and you're Rapunzel. Let down your hair".

Aliyah and Ilhaam think I'm demented and vice versa. They say I have a crush on Dr Abdulrahim. But its not true. Good looks, amazing dressing sense, wicked smirk, charm and wits aside, the guy is so intelligent. He knows how to teach. Even the dumbest person in our class understands Physiology. Plus he has read the Hating Game. So you see, I can't just dislike no matter how bad he is_which he isn't. So..

What? You also think I have a crush on him? Then you're just as crazy as Aliyah and Ilhaam.

I get ready in my crazy jeans(Kanye West style_don't mind me), and a half vest_as usual with a pale pink colored hijab. Mondays are the only days I wear brightly colored hijabs. Normally I wear neutral colors_white, different shades of gray, black, brown_even though Aliyah grumbles about them saying they only accentuate my dark complexion, I don't care_its not like I have anyone to impress. But today, like every Monday, I take my time to dab a little powder and lipgloss. I look at my reflection in the mirror and see my mediocre face looking back at me. A round nose, covered with freckles that extend to my cheeks_ i mean, have you ever seen a black person with freckles? I'm sure you haven't. Well congratulations if I'm the first one you've met. My brows are perfect enough I think. Even if they weren't its not like I would have bothered myself over them. And then my precious amber eyes that earn me peculiar looks from people. That's why I wear brown contacts to blend in. Aliyah and Ilhaam are the only people apart from my family that know the real color of my eyes. I think all in all I look a bit presentable so I  walk to class listening to 'read all about it' which happens to be my favorite song.

I say hi to the few people I see already in class and I find my perfect seat_by the window. The lighting there is perfect_makes everything look good when I sit there.

I mean , the board of course. What else is there to look?

The seat behind me stays empty. I'm used to sitting alone_no one sits with me except if there's no other available seat. Dr Abdulrahim comes in looking all crisp and clean in a navy blue polo shirt and I sigh in appreciation of the strong toned muscles bulging from his shirt when I feel a poke on my cheeks.

"Hello there, sighing beauty." The voice says.

I turn and of course you guessed right. Its the infamous Nabeel. I gather my strength to give him the best angry retort that comes to my mind but I come up blank.

"Wow, see who's dumbstruck by how hot I am?" He says, using his hands to fan himself.

Why do I always become spellbound when he's looking at me. It feels as if his eyes are boring right into my soul. Like he can see my secrets_my deepest fears and my greatest desires.

I clear my throat and plaster a smile on my lips. A fake one. These days I've perfected the art of fake smiling. My lips are beginning to hurt.

"Man, if you were half as hot as you think as you are, you'd be twice as hot as you actually are."

A bewildered look crosses his face, making him crease his eyebrows to a frown.

"You do realise none of that actually made sense to me whatsoever, right?"

I sigh and palm my face. " Uh uh, and here I was actually thinking you're the smartest tool in the toolshed_my apologies"

"Ouch_ Now that one I did get".

I laugh in triumph and turn to look at him again, when Dr Abdulrahim calls out to me.

"Aarfa Hakim, your attention on the board please." His lips pursed in grim line.

I turn my attention to the lecture and the minutes pass. Today's lecture is about Homeostasis_Receptors, Effectors and control centers.

Nabeel keeps leaning over to whisper annoying stuff in my ears. He did it three frigging times_ and Dr Abdulrahim glared as us every time. Urgh

"Dr Abdulrahim is the Receptor, You are the effector and I the control center". I can see Dr Abdulrahim glaring at the both of us.

I turn with my most serious frown and loudly whisper to him, stabbing a finger in his chest
"Wallah if you get me in trouble_I'm going to kill you_with my bare hands". I snarl.

He holds his hands up in surrender and keeps shut after that and I go on to pay attention to Dr Abdulrahim_um his lecture I mean. I try hard to suppress my sighs whenever Dr Abdulrahim flexes his muscles or smirks. Its a wonder I even understand what he's teaching

The rest of the lecture goes on smoothly and Dr Abdulrahim bids us adieu, after informing us he won't be available the next Monday due to a family emergency.

He looks towards me and says_ "Aarfa Hakim, I want to see you in my office". With that he leaves, and the class erupts in murmurs, some even craning their neck to see who Dr Abdulrahim wants to see in 'his office'.

Hey there, beautiful People.
Okay,  today I'm not going to say anything. My mouth is zipped. You guys do the talking.

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Drop comments  Biko and let me know how you feel. And of course,  don't forget to Vote,  and Share also.

See you in three days.
Zeenah.