A taste to remember

Chapter twelve

Munnira pov

I've had a chaotic week, with four assignments due tomorrow and two more on Thursday. To top it off, I have tests scheduled for Friday and Saturday. As I walked into my home, I felt an overwhelming urge to scream and release the pent-up stress. Instead, I decided to unwind by brewing a hot cup of tea and listening to music while chopping onions. Just as I was getting into the rhythm, I heard a knock on the door.

"'Yasmine, it's so great to see you!' I exclaimed, embracing her warmly.

"She settled into a spot on the bed, and I invited her to join me in the kitchen, where I was cooking noodles. 'Would you like to cook with me?' I asked.

"'No, thank you, I'm full,' she replied. 'By the way, where's your roommate?' she inquired.

"'She's away for the weekend,' I explained, handing Yasmine a cup of tea as I sat down beside her.

Yasmine took a sip and placed the cup on the stool near the fridge.

"She is lucky to have you staying behind. I forgot to ask, how have you been?' she asked.

"'I'm doing well, thanks. We haven't seen each other since... ' we said in unison, 'the wedding!' We both chuckled.

"After a brief silence, Yasmine asked, 'How's Ahmed doing? I haven't seen him in a long time.'

"'He's doing alright,' I replied. 'He's been busy preparing for exams, so we're all giving each other space now that exams are around the corner. We spoke just four days ago.'

Yasmine looked concerned. "I've been worried about him since I heard about his sister."

"I was relieved to hear the good news," I said, but Yasmine looked puzzled.

"Didn't you know? Her cancer has relapsed. Didn't Ahmad tell you?" she asked, her voice laced with surprise.

I was taken aback, feeling a mix of emotions.

"No, he didn't mention it. We speak almost daily, but he never brought it up." The fact that I was hearing this news from someone else was unsettling.

"Everyone knows, I thought you did," Yasmine said. "They say the cancer has spread through her kidneys, and he needs surgery in India. However, she refuses to undergo surgery and is sticking to chemotherapy and her medication."

I felt like I was the last person to know, and that realization was unsettling. That's great, I thought.

Yasmine seemed to feel bad about being the one to break the news and tried to cover it up. "I guess he didn't want you to worry."

I smiled and stayed silent for a moment.

"Actually, that's why I came," Yasmine continued. "Ahmed has changed since we resumed classes. Zaid told me that he has been missing classes a lot and has missed all his tests. The last time we spoke, he said he goes away for the weekend and stays indoors the whole time, without going out. Zaid has been keeping an eye on him, but Ahmed has been distancing himself from everyone."

Yasmine moved closer to me and spoke in a lower tone, "I don't know if you know about his past. I'm scared he may do something crazy."

Her words struck a chord, and I wondered why she would think such a thing. "Yes, he told me about his past," I replied. "The Ahmed I know would never do something like that. From the way he spoke about rejecting his past and regretting his mistakes, I don't think he would ever consider harming himself. He wouldn't do this to his sister; she needs him the most. I just think he's depressed and needs us to check in on him. Tomorrow, after my class, I'll make sure to check up on him."

Yasmine nodded in agreement. "Please, when you're ready to go, call me, and I'll go with you."

The next day, after class, I waited for Yasmine at the cafeteria. Ten minutes later, she arrived, and we went home to drop off her books before heading straight to Ahmed's new house, which was not far from ours. At the house, there were two flats: the one facing the gate was where Zaid and Fara lived, while the one on the right side was where Ahmed had moved.

As we got to his building, I felt reluctant to enter, recalling the incident that occurred during my previous visit. Yasmine knocked on the door, and Ahmed answered, wearing shorts and looking disheveled. His eyes appeared sleepy and red, and his hair was untidy. He looked tired and stood quietly, staring at us like a statue, blocking the door.

Yasmine pushed past him, moving his hands when she got tired of standing.

"If you don't let us in, we'll let ourselves in," Yasmine said, scanning the surroundings.

Ahmed hesitated before granting me entry. My gaze fixed on him, but he avoided eye contact and remained silent. He shut the door and returned to his seat, continuing to drink.

"Are you not going to say anything to us?" Yasmine asked, surveying the cluttered room. "The house is in disarray, Ahmed. What's going on? You could have at least cleaned the plates," she added, heading straight to the kitchen.

"I didn't invite you to come unannounced," Ahmed responded, sipping his drink.

"We called your phone, but you didn't answer," I said, attempting to reason with him.

"Clearly, I don't want any disturbances. Can't you see that?" Ahmed said, casting a sideways glance at me.

I tried to disregard his unusual behavior. "We were all worried about you. You didn't tell me the cancer had returned," I said softly.

"You should prioritize your own concerns. Or should I say, your wedding?" Ahmed spoke without looking at me.

"Let me share a story," I began. "I met your brother's friend, who informed me about your engagement. You didn't mention it, but I'm sure he would know. It's hard to discredit his words."

I explained the situation and why I couldn't inform him earlier. Ahmed interrupted me harshly. "Please, spare me the details. When did you plan to tell me? After the wedding? I needed your support the most during this challenging time and honesty."

I attempted to explain again, but Ahmed's demeanor shifted. Yesmine came out of the kitchen with a bag, pour a pile of drug on the center table.

I was taken aback. "What is this, Ahmed? Why do you have all these drugs?"

"Sleeping pills" he replied.

The drugs were clearly not sleeping pills but hard drugs.

"They are no sleeping pills, Ahmed. What are you doing with all these drugs?" I asked, sniffing the drink he had been consuming earlier. The smell of drugs was unmistakable.

This discovery left me feeling weak and hot. Yesmin joined me in packing the drugs into a plastic bag. We searched the room for more, ignoring Ahmed's warnings.

"You better stop what you're doing and hand me that plastic bag. You guys should leave now," Ahmed said, his voice calm but firm.

We continued our search, and Ahmed's demeanor changed. "You guys should stop!" he shouted, breaking the glass cup he held.

"We won't stop until we remove all the drugs we can find. We won't sit back and watch you destroy your life," I said angrily.

Ahmed's response was aggressive. He pushed me against the wall, his eyes turning red. "Who do you think you are, lecturing me like a trash?" he said harshly.

Yesmin intervened, "Ahmad, stop!"

But Ahmed turned on her, "You better shut up, who are you now, her tail?"

He turned back to me, his eyes filled with rage. I felt fear consume me. His red eyes stirred straight at me. Both my hands were pinned to the wall. Who is this person standing right in front of me? I asked myself. This surely wasn't the soft calm loving Ahmad I know. I could swore this was a different man. Fear concealed me, my heart beating fast than normal. He moved closer, I could feel his feel his warmth. Our faces few inches apart I quickly closed my eyes. His breath piercing through my skin.

"You better go before I do something we'll both regret," he whispered.

I was shaken, and Ahmed released me, returning to his seat. He threw my bag at me and ordered us to leave. "I don't want to ever see your faces around here again. And Munnira, it's over between us. I wish you a happy marriage life."

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The memory of that day haunts me. I'm angry, hot, disappointed, and scared of Ahmed. I wonder how it came to this. The two distinct personalities I saw in Ahmed that day are incomprehensible to me. How can a friendly, kind person turn so aggressive, scary, and dangerous? I'm struggling to understand the situation, but where do I start?

One of my classmates said out loud, "Do you understand this explanation?" since we started the group discussion, my mind had been elsewhere. But I snapped back to reality, pretending to be focused. However, how could I be focused with everything that's going on?

After the discussion, I was walking back home when I bumped into Yesmin. We exchanged smiles and hugs.

"How are you? Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes, I am. You guys can go. We'll meet tomorrow," I dismissed my coursemates.

Yesmin and I found a spot in the garden, sat down.

"Are you okay?" Yesmin asked again, her eyes fixed on me.

I shook my head and took a deep breath.

"How could I be okay? I was so angry that I had deleted his number when I got back home, but I couldn't delete our pictures. I didn't know what to do or how to process my emotions."

Yesmin put her hand on my back, trying to console me with her calming words. "You have every reason to be angry at him. He deserves it. He was acting like a fool, but you know he did that on purpose to push you away. To push all of us away. He doesn't talk to Farah or Zaid; they barely see him. He doesn't pick any of our calls. He's clearly deserting himself from us, from the world."

I could see frustration written all over her face, and we were all in the same boat.

"His sister's sickness has worsened. She's been hospitalized," Yesmin said, her voice laced with concern.

You know that moment when you feel so much pain but don't know how to cry. The moment when you pile so much inside but don't know how to express it.

"He went to see her last week, and of course, I didn't hear the news from him. I had it from his maid. I have her number; we've known each other since we were kids."

Yesmin was quiet again, lost in thought.

"Ahmed is lost, scared, he is in so much pain. He feels all alone. I understand how it feels to be in such a position because I've been there before. When I was 12 years old, I had a lot going on in school. There was a group of students making it difficult for me to enjoy school. They didn't hurt me physically, but their teasing and mocking affected me emotionally. I became known as 'The Moody One.' Whenever they saw me in that state, they'd leave me alone, claiming I started it with my 'bad character.' No one asked why."

She paused and continued

"There was an incident where she made fun of me in front of everyone in school. I was so weak; I couldn't fight back. It escalated to the point where I was taken to the principal's office, and all anyone saw was me beating her up, not what she did to me. I was suspended for a week. When I got home, my family kept fighting me. I felt so frustrated that I wished I could die. I had no one to turn to, no one to talk to. I felt alone, even though I was surrounded by people. I didn't feel loved by anyone, including my family. I took a whole bottle of cough syrupy. Luckily, my grandma saw me and rushed me to the hospital. You see, we Africans don't value our mental health. If only someone had reached out to me or been patient enough to understand me, maybe it wouldn't have gotten to that point. It was later that they all found out what I was going through, and they felt bad".

She turned and faced me, holding both my hands "When someone finds themselves in such a position, they try to look for an escape route. For Ahmed, being drugs is his alternative. He's trying to run away from his problems rather than facing them. He's shut out all of us because he feels he can do it alone. What helped me after all that happened was my family's support. They regretted their negligence and supported me 100%.

We may think we've lost Ahmed, but no, he's still there. We can't give up on him completely. Real friends don't give up on each other; they fight till the end. He doesn't want our help, but he needs it. We're not doing what he wants, but what he needs. He needs us more than ever. I'm not willing to give up on him, and I'm begging you not to do so. See him as he was before; it will help you find a way. Don't give up on him, please."

That night, I couldn't shake off the words Yesmin had spoken. I was torn between not wanting to give up on Ahmed and being unsure of how to help him. After my exam, I saw 13 missed calls from Farah on my phone. I was frantic with worry and tried calling her back repeatedly, but she didn't answer. Finally, after several attempts, I got through Yesmine.

Her voice was laced with distress, and I knew something was amiss. "Is everything okay?" I asked, my voice trembling. She was crying uncontrollably and struggling to speak. Then, I heard Farah's voice on the phone. "She's okay, where are you?" Farah asked.

"I just got out of the exam hall. What's going on? Why is your Yesmin crying?" I pressed, growing increasingly confused.

"I need you to find a place to sit down first," Farah said, but I couldn't contain my fear. My heart was racing.

"Fara, please tell me what's going on," I implored, my body shaking and drenched in sweat.

Farah paused before delivering the devastating news. "Ahmed's sister has passed away."

The words echoed in my mind like a haunting mantra. Suddenly, her image flashed before me, and I felt myself becoming lightheaded. I collapsed onto the cafeteria bench.

"I need you to come to our house right now; it's an emergency. Please, we really need you now," Farah urged before ending the call.

I sat in stunned silence, trying to process the news. Memories of her bright smile and infectious laughter flooded my mind. I remembered the first day I visited her house, her voice, and our last encounter. I clutched the lip gloss from my bag, a gift from her makeup kit. Overwhelmed with grief, I burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably.

My course mates gathered around me, concerned and inquiring about my distress. I was unable to speak, my voice frozen in shock. All I could do was weep. One of them called my roommate, who was in the same building, and she gently escorted me to a quiet area. She let me compose myself before asking what had happened. I shared the heartbreaking news and asked her to accompany me to Farah's house, as I knew I couldn't face it alone in that state.

I sat in stunned silence, attempting to process the devastating news. Memories of her vibrant smile and infectious laughter, from our initial encounter at her residence, flooded my mind. I recalled her voice, her laughter, and our last meeting. I retrieved a lip gloss from my bag, part of the makeup kit she had graciously given me. Overwhelmed with emotion, I burst into tears, crying profusely.

My fellow students surrounding me grew concerned, inquiring about my distress. I was unable to speak; it was as if my voice was frozen in shock. All I could do was weep. One of them managed to contact my roommate, who was in the same building, and she gently escorted me to a quiet area. She allowed me to compose myself before inquiring about the situation.

"I've just received the most terrible news," I explained. "Ahmed's sister has passed away. I need to go to his house, but I'm in no state to go alone."

She advised me to return home, collect myself, and then proceed to the house, which we did. I urged her to leave, as she had an examination in an hour, and I departed.

I lingered by the gate for 15 minutes before entering. The compound was deserted, and the door was left open, which was unusual. Inside, Khalid sat on the bare tiles, holding his head, his back against the wall. Zaid stood by the door, while Farah and Yasmin sat on the couch, their eyes red and swollen from crying. Yesmin continued to sob, unable to speak.

Upon seeing me, they fell silent. Farah quickly approached and embraced me. I felt weak, unable to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

"Farah, I'm so sorry. May her rest in peace" I whispered, my voice trembling.

"It's okay," she replied, her voice barely audible. "We're all in this together."

"Where is Ahmed?" I inquired, but they remained silent, exchanging uneasy glances. Suddenly, I heard a faint noise emanating from the bedroom. Zaid proceeded to unlock the door.

"Why was he confined?" I asked, but my question was met with an unsettling silence.

As I entered the room, I was met with a distressing sight. Ahmed was pacing back and forth, engaged in a heated conversation with himself, and gnawing on his nails. His eyes were bloodshot, and his once robust frame now appeared gaunt and frail. His body trembled uncontrollably, and he looked worse than I had ever seen him.

"Tee... Tee... tell," he struggled to articulate, his voice barely audible and laced with desperation. Hot tears streamed down my face as I grappled with the reality of his condition. This was not the Ahmed I knew. I collapsed to the floor, overcome with emotion.

"Mun... Mun... Munira," he whispered, his voice weak and trembling. I wondered if Ahmed had succumbed to madness.

He continued to scratch his body, emitting strange noises, before collapsing. Summoning a modicum of courage, I approached him.

"Ahmed," I called out, attempting to comfort him.

"We need to take him to the hospital immediately!" I exclaimed, my voice laced with urgency and concern.

As I cradled his head in my lap, I offered words of reassurance. "It's going to be okay, we're here for you."

Tears flowed down his cheeks, and he lay there, unable to speak. His gaze was fixed on me, filled with a deep sense of desperation. Suddenly, his eyes closed. As I attempted to lift his head, I was met with a chilling sight – he was bleeding profusely.

"Ahmed!!!" I shouted, my voice fueled with panic and despair.