The mobile-phone rang while I was eating my dinner late at night around 11:30. I put the fork on

the table, cleaned my lips with the handkerchief, and picked up the phone. I saw it was an

unknown number. First I thought to avoid it, but then I tapped the call-answer button and placed

the phone to my ear. I heard nothing at first, so I said, "Hello."

After a few seconds, a female voice replied, "Hello."

When I inquired who was calling, the woman said, "It's Mahnoor."

This name which I'd not heard for eight months made me feel restless in every atom of

my being. I was unprepared to listen to this voice. Intimate and kind her warm tones which once

whispered loving sounds for my soul alone came rushing back to my memory. Once she'd been

seductive and hushed, or wild and witty, but now I heard an odd nervousness lay within her

words.

The Mahnoor I remembered had a low easy laugh that light up a room. But it was the

bright swag of her comebacks that had won my heart - and lost it. She was intelligent, quick, and

assured. I'd asked if the chair next to her was available. She replied, "If all you want is the chair

and to sit, there are plenty in the room. What is your real question?"

That was always her. A step ahead, getting to the heart of the matter. She often rushed

things with her feminist manner. But this woman on the cell seemed shy, almost desperate. She

spoke with unusual speed, without forethought. Her voice sounded apologetic and secretive.

"I want to meet you urgently, Mehboob, right now. Come to my home. I've something

important to tell you," Mahnoor had said.

The stress engulfed my being. I was compelled to help my friend. Yes, we had been apart

physically, but this one, this woman, would always be a part of me. I left at once for Maah

Noor's home. On my way to her, I guessed countless times what might be the reason for the

meeting, and for her change. But, like losing the entire world, understanding her message was

also impossible to comprehend.

As I clicked the seatbelt and started the car, memories of Mahnoor and I flooded my

mind. She was perfect for me in most ways. She interested me. I wanted to know her more. But I

could not give my heart to her completely. My heart belonged with my family, my daughters.

And Mahnoor was older much older. It took some time to wrap my head around that. I had long

given up on my marriage and had been flirting with women playing manipulating. Not to be

mean or hurt to escape to feel to have a life. But Mahnoor was different. Yet, when we got close

she would always pull away. Between the walls I had built to protect me and the running she did,

well I worried that we'd ever stand a chance. That last night, she melted into my arms. I knew

she wanted me. I was trying to give her what she wanted to love her without breaking any morals

she held. But when I stopped she got angry and walked away. We had one conversation about

deceit and I allowed her to go. Now, she was calling again. Why? Perhaps she wanted to start

again, perhaps she had a secret to tell me. Perhaps she was finally ready to open her arms to me.

Perhaps her husband had hurt her and she needed me. I had to know, for me as much as her.

I reached her home and gave a soft knock on the door. She opened the door, and I gazed

at her. I'm unable to express the way she looked standing there. She wore a form-fitting black dress with lace sleeves which left her soft shoulders exposed. Her hair blew in the breeze. A few

strands brushed across her face. Her graceful left hand tucked the wild strays behind her ear. I

couldn't help notice there was no wedding band. An indigo scarf hung from her neck. That

instant, I thought an angel had arrived on the earth in the shape of the most exquisite girl who

was now standing before me. I could tell she was physically alright. There was nothing to fear.

By her attire she was telling me her desire. So, why was she gone had there been someone else?

Had she not loved me?

"I see you are safe tonight, yet you called me. I'm here. Perhaps, Mahnoor you can tell

me why. Why am I here and while we're at it Why did you abandon me for eight long months,

Mahnoor, why?" She looked down, nodded. As she lifted her head I gazed at her eyes filled with

sympathy empathy pain it was difficult to tell. But I wanted to protect her to help her and I

believed those eyes every drop of them.

'Come in my beloved, please come inside. I will explain it all."

I followed her.

She led me into her bedroom.

***

"Mehboob, behind this door are several doors. I am going to show you all my rooms

tonight. So, bare with me. In order to understand our eight months apart you must understand the

years before you must know my whole soul. So I've created a world for us in there. You know I

believe in magic tonight you will know why and how and I hope stay for some magic of our

own. But if at anytime it becomes to sad I understand. Are you ready?"

"Open the door, Mahnoor"

I entered the room. It was barren the hardwood floor boards unstained or polished old and

worn and creaked as I my steps hesitated toward the middle of the empty room. Book shelves

lined all four wall but they were empty. A multi-colored blanket was in the corner of the room

folded into a long rectangle and appeared to be her bed. A tissue box and a water glass sat near

one end. The double hung window with sheer curtains above the bed and the wall at the top of

the bed marked with body oil stains from long hours of rest against it staring at the west sky. Her

heels made a slow melancholy sound as she came up behind me and wrapped her arms around

me from behind. Her head resting between my shoulder blades and her hand holding my heart. I

felt her tremble.

"This Mehboob, this is me. I am empty. Everything I was everything I am is gone. Given

or taken away. There is nothing here for anyone. It is or it was okay for me. I was born different

born poor my mom was young, fifteen when I was born. My dad denied I was his. I'm not sure

today that I was. My sisters are much different than I. I spent much of my childhood alone in a

corner doing as I was told. Thinking. Imagining. Playing with ill formed thoughts.

"But in school, you were brilliant."

"Yes, that is what they said gifted, talented, different. But my family wanted me to be

normal. They didn't want my different. I was like Harry Potter literally living under the stairway

trying to be something different anything different than empty. But I am always fighting to keep

the girl inside from stepping forward. You see, you see me. Do you think I wanted you to see this

nothingness, this waste, this shell of what I have allowed myself to become?"

I turned and held her close.

"It mattered not to me where you came from. You are not empty, Mahnoor."

"Come," she interrupted. She lead me from the grey drab room with it's colored blanket

a

nd double hung window. She opened what appeared to be a closet door. Our hands hung

between us as she led me though. Half way though she stopped.

"When you leave, remember you coat. I put it on the hook beside the front door." Then

she pulled us inside and the door swung shut with a bang. I startled. I glanced around the room it

was the exact room but dressed differently.

Mahnoor changed. She became pale almost see through. He clothes were not a classic

style but more a torn and tattered hooker look that was not her. Hanging from the ceilings were

sheer curtains looking like ghosts hanging blowing in the breeze from the double hung window

six of them.