Walking with the Beast

Haqim

Today was the day I had desperately waited for and frantically wanted to avoid. I parked my car and walked in the airport, people were weaving in and out of the giant building and rushing out of the place. I took a deep breath and stepped in, her flight had landed and she was on her way, would she remember me? Would she recognize me?

I, for once, had her face memorized, I had gone through every single social media possible and tried to figure out who this girl had become, she was pretty, blunder ally so, her eyes were just as I as they used to be when we were kids, her hair were dyed bright pink, her nails were trimmed neatly and painted the same color as her hair, her olive skin seemed as perfect as it could be and she didn’t seem so tall, just a few inches shorter than me. Just as I was going over the details of her appearance in my head, she emerged in front of me, dragging a red suitcase behind her. She was effortlessly beautiful, even more so than the pictures, her hair was tied up in a rumpled bun and her eyes were frantically wandering around looking for a familiar face.

“Aisha,” I shouted, this averted a couple of gazes towards me but I caught her attention. She looked at me and scrunched her brows then immediately after realization hit her eyes and gave me a toothy grin. I was mimicking her expression, looking at her with the same contentment she was showing me, I was probably happier than she was. I agitatedly started running towards her and she increased her speed, that smile never leaving her face. I reached her, and she laughed, “You are Haqim,” she squeaked and put her arms around me. Her warmth was comforting, but in an instant, she was gone, the cold filling the void instead.

“You are so tall,” she uttered, looking at me. She was a good foot shorter than me. “You know back in India, I am considered tall, it’s not every day you meet boys who are taller than you,” she winked. I laughed, taking her suitcase from her hand, “And he is a gentleman,”

“It do be like that, but tell me something, what happened to your accent?” I said, leading her towards the exit.

“Hey, don’t make fun of my accent, I have lived a decade in another country, it’s bound to change,” she sighed.

“I see you haven’t lost your sass, what can I say, this sass master did teach you well,” her hearty laugh followed shortly after my sentence, “did you just quote yourself as ‘sass master’? Is that what Americans are up to these days?”

“Says the girl who holds an American passport,” I deadpanned. She shook her head and looked at me. “How long are you here,” I asked, hoping that it would be long time.

“Actually, I got into Cornell, software engineering,” she said.

“So, you’ll be living here?” My face tightened. I didn’t expect this, my mother did mention that she was going to stay at her own place, but I didn’t know she was moving here permanently.

“I won’t bother you Haqim, I am living at my place,” she gave a weak smile.