Jealous Gore And The Victim

Birthday

"Hope you are prepared for the exams?” I asked Khalifa, my voice a practiced calm despite the turmoil within.

He nodded, a casual shrug. “Yes, of course. But where have you been all this while? Your mom said you ran out of the house, and since then, you were missing.”

My jaw tightened. “But did she tell you why I ran out of the house?”

“You did something wrong and she corrected you, but you got offended and left the house and never returned. That was what she said.” His eyes held a flicker of curiosity, a silent question.

“Did you believe her?” I pressed, my gaze unwavering.

He met it, a thoughtful pause. “I don’t believe in one-sided stories, and that’s why I asked you.”

The conversation died as the invigilator swept into the hall, a sheaf of answer sheets and question papers fanned out in his hand. When he reached my desk, he thrust the papers at me, his eyes narrowed, a distasteful glint in their depths. “I heard you were missing,” he stated, his tone thick with implied judgment. I met his gaze with a blank stare, my silence a deliberate insult, as if his words were mere static in the air.

I clutched the sheets, my focus absolute on the simple act of writing my name. Peripheral vision caught the shifting eyes, the hushed whispers, but they were distant, irrelevant. My world had shrunk to the task at hand: the exam.

The courage that held me upright in that charged atmosphere wasn't a defiance against the imagined whispers of the crowd, the spectral footage of my humiliation, the cruel rumors, or even the daunting shadow of my own mental health. It was a power I had consciously cultivated in isolation, a fierce resilience forged in solitude. It was the stark realization, during those days of absence, that I had a choice: to win or to lose. I chose to win, to face the world, to fight, to strive, to struggle, and ultimately, to conquer. Every thought, every feeling, swirled with a newfound complexity, and the only antidote, the only healing tool, was the mantra I’d forged: face the fears. The winner, I reminded myself, stays alive; the loser is buried underground.

Despite the fractured concentration, the lingering shadows of Aisha’s torment and my own recent past, I completed the exam. My pen flew across the paper, questions answered in less than twenty minutes of the allotted hour. I rose, a silent declaration, and moved to submit my sheets.

“Hey, what happened, and where are you going?!” The initial invigilator’s voice cracked like a whip, laced with accusation. I ignored him, my pace unbroken, until I reached the second invigilator, the designated collector of completed booklets.

“Are you done?” he asked, his voice neutral.

“Yes,” I replied, and turned to leave the hall.

“Salama, come here!” The first invigilator’s voice rose, a raw, awful command. I stopped, a slow turn, my stance solid. This time, I was ready for anyone, even the principal.

“I’m here,” I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion.

“What is wrong with you? Don’t you hear when I was talking to you?” His face was a mask of offended authority.

“What were you talking about that deserves an answer?” I countered, a subtle arch to my brow.

“I asked you a question before the exams, but you ignored my response; why?” His voice tightened, a frustrated edge.

“I’m here for the exams, or for your question?” I delivered the words with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel. His jaw dropped, a grotesque tableau of shock, no answer forming on his lips. I turned and walked out, his stunned gaze a palpable weight on my back until I vanished from his sight.

I stalked out of the building, a tempest of anger brewing within me, only to stop dead. My dad and Aisha stood on the school premises, their faces wreathed in smiles. I wasn’t in the mood, wasn’t ready for forced cheer. Then, from behind me, a swell of sound, a brass band and a chorus of voices rising in joyous harmony: “Happy birthday to you… happy birthday to you…”

The world tilted. It was my birthday. My own birthday, utterly forgotten in the whirlwind of recent events. The realization hit me like a bolt from the blue, a sudden, blissful clarity. Dad produced a cake, its candles a beacon of flickering light, and an array of drinks, their effervescence reflecting the sudden lightness in my chest. My day, moments ago a storm, was now spiced with unexpected pleasure.

Khalifa emerged from the exam hall, spotted the festivities, and headed straight for me. “Salama, can we talk now?” he asked, catching up as I walked away from the jubilant crowd.

I sighed, a ghost of the earlier anger still lingering, but agreed. We found a quiet spot, tucked away from the main building. He launched into questions about my absence, his concern genuine. I hesitated, a war waging within me, but something shifted. A quiet urge to confide, to unburden myself, nudged me forward. I told him everything: Aisha’s harrowing condition, the crushing weight of my own depression, the overwhelming deluge of it all.

To my profound surprise, Khalifa listened. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t judge. He simply absorbed my words, then offered a quiet stream of encouragement and unwavering support. “You’re not alone,” he said, his voice earnest. “I’ll be there for you, no matter what.” A great weight lifted from my shoulders, a tangible lightness blossoming in my chest. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I had someone who truly understood, someone who genuinely cared.

It was a comfort born of pure chance, a balm that soothed every aching wound. Everyone, I realized, needed someone to cling to, and my father, my hero in this tumultuous court, was teaching me resilience. Life, I knew, couldn’t be better without him. He pushed me, drove me to the brink of insanity and back, forcing me to confront the raw entity of reality, accelerating my maturity, teaching me to handle emotional imbalances with practiced grace. My poor self, though still prone to moments of panic in this barbaric lane, found unexpected pockets of pleasure within its confines. Now is the sadness, then is the joy, perhaps peace thereafter, or dread in the halfway. What a life of uncertainty, always looking for a way.

The elusive goal, the universal question: how to maintain balance on one favorable side? There were no answers, for the more one sought, the more questions emerged, the seeking continuing until our final resting place underground. I reassured myself, infusing myself with the strength to keep going until it got better, determined to understand the management required to maintain my stand.

As we walked back home, I couldn’t help but feel a profound gratitude for Khalifa. He could be annoying, true, but deep down, he was a true friend, standing by me when I needed him most.

“How were the exams?” Dad asked as we drove home, his gaze flicking to me in the rearview mirror.

“Glory be to God, sir. They were great,” I replied, a weariness creeping into my voice. “But some sort of goofy supervisors were trying to piss me off, and that was the look on my face as I stepped out of the hall. They tried to taunt me with ‘they heard I was missing Saggar’ and asked silly questions, but I ignored them. They were offended by the snub and felt ignored, and they wanted to unleash their wrath because I was done with my exam in a mere twenty minutes. So I just stepped out, leaving them to their waste of time.”

“But I hope you didn’t say anything wrong to them?” he asked, a hint of concern in his tone.

“No, sir,” I said, a small smile playing on my lips.

“At this moment,” he began, his voice taking on a more serious timbre, “you have to always control your temper, plus your thoughts, plus your emotions, and plus everything else. Don’t let the devil win. And make sure you pray often because you are among the great people God has chosen for greatness. And for greatness’s sake to prevail, things to shape you up must happen to you. This is to remind you what good and bad are, and how to handle greatness at its tip-top.”

He paused, a sigh escaping him. “Your mom and siblings were raging their anger on me for taking you out of the house. They said I made you stubborn and disrespectful, blah blah blah. But did I make you so? I don’t know. Women’s intuitions,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Passing blame on me for their misfortunes, afraid to accept fault. Or perhaps they thought I was going to bully them. I remained silent. They are all seeking attention I don’t have. Now that you are out of their direct influence, they have to seek who and what to blame, hate, and get jealous of, or they’ll turn against themselves. The house chores must be shared, and duties must be done. They have to take responsibility and get used to it. And soon, I’m adding a wife.”

The last sentence hung in the air, a stunning pronouncement. “But why do you want to add a wife?” I asked, my voice thin with awe.

“Your mom is so stubborn; she misbehaves a lot and is disrespectful at some point. It would be messy when I finally return home, and the only way to respond to my mental health is to have a Plan B.”

“Hmmmm,” I murmured, a thousand thoughts swirling. My mom would almost kill herself if it happened. The image flashed through my mind, raw and painful. A poor child with a poor number… what would I say to this? Silence…

Obviously, blood is thicker than water, and I feel for her, but her attitude is turning into losing a loving man like my Dad. But wait, am I going to live with my stepmom in the house? The thought popped into my head, unwelcome and jarring.

“Where are you going to keep your second wife?” I asked, testing the waters.

“I haven’t thought of it yet, but I’ll figure that out soon.” His voice was firm, resolute.

“And what about my mom and siblings? How are they going to react to this news?”

“They will have to accept it eventually. Life moves on, and they will have to adapt to the changes.” He replied, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

As we reached home, the atmosphere was thick with an unspoken tension, yet my dad remained unwavering in his decision. I felt a painful pull, torn between my fierce loyalty to my mother and my father’s quiet yearning for happiness. It was a challenging, precarious situation, and I knew I would have to navigate the upcoming shifts in our family dynamic with extreme care.

But amidst all the chaos, one truth resonated deeply within me: my dad’s words about resilience and strength. I would find the courage to face the challenges ahead, to emerge stronger from them. As my birthday came to a quiet close, I understood that the journey ahead would be a profound test of my character and fortitude. But I was ready to face it head-on, just as I had faced the exams earlier that day.

And as I stepped through the doorway, to find Aisha waiting for me with a gentle smile, I knew that with Dad, Khalifa, and Aisha by my side, I could face whatever challenges came my way.