Salma.
I had lost track of time, but somehow, I found myself standing outside Omar's workplace.
He was sitting on a bench, his shirt slung over his shoulder, eating a simple meal of rice and lettuce. The sight triggered a loud growl from my empty stomach, and I mentally berated myself for the sixth time that day for leaving the house without eating. If only I had stayed home, perhaps I wouldn't have endured the humiliation I suffered earlier.
I approached Omar, my footsteps deliberate. "Omar," I said, sitting beside him. He turned to me, startled, and set his food down. "Sally?" he questioned, relief washing over his face, followed by a frown. I felt a pang of guilt for leaving the house without a word, knowing my family would be worried sick. I mentally chastised myself for the seventh time that day. What had I been thinking, leaving without telling anyone, not even Omar? I was foolish beyond measure.
Omar's voice broke the silence. "Sally, where have you been all morning? We've searched every neighborhood, even Aziza's! No one thought you'd go there, considering how you two don't get along." His eyes were wide with disbelief.
"Mami was frantic, calling everyone to see if they'd seen you. Papa was on the verge of a heart attack!" Omar's words hung in the air, a testament to the worry I had caused.
Omar's words cut deep. "You just left without telling anyone, not even me! Now Baba's in the hospital after almost having a heart attack due to being worried for you I have to work twice as hard today just to make sure we have food on the table. This is my first meal all day, and I'm sure you're starving. Take it, eat!" He offered me his bowl of rice, but I was too stunned to accept.
The news of Papa's hospitalization hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt a wave of guilt wash over me. How could I be so thoughtless? Leaving home without telling anyone was out of character for me. My eyes welled up with tears, and I sobbed uncontrollably. "Papa's in the hospital! Is he okay? What have I done?" I cried, too distraught to accept the offered food
Omar set the bowl down and took my hands in his, gently wiping away my tears. I was a mess, having cried on and off since morning. The sun was now high overhead, casting a late-afternoon glow. How long had I been out? I had lost all sense of time
" Sally, it's okay come here " he said pulling close and embracing me. I hugged him back trying to find some comfort from because I'm totally list right now!
Omar's arms wrapped around me, offering a fleeting sense of comfort. "It's okay, Sally, it's not your fault do don't blame yourself" he whispered softly.
But his next words shattered the fragile calm. "Papa's heart is stable, but the doctor says the operation needs to happen now. We have to pay for it immediately." Omar's voice was heavy with worry.
I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. My heart racing, I stood up, clutching my stomach as if it could contain the anxiety building inside me. Tears streamed down my face, and I let out a strangled cry.
"How are we supposed to get the money?" I asked, my voice cracking with desperation. "Why is this happening to us? When will all this misery end?" I sobbed, feeling helpless and lost.
Omar looked up at me with sad eyes. "The doctor says Papa needs to stay in the hospital for supervision and to avoid any stress that could worsen his condition." He paused, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. "I used up all our money last night for today's hospital bills, medication, and food.
Now, I'm thinking of working two shifts today – 10 hours straight – to earn more money." He appealed to a higher power, "Please, God, give me the strength to do this. I've never worked so much before, but I have to try. My family is counting on me." His voice cracked as he buried his face in his hands, overwhelmed by uncertainty.
I felt overwhelmed with guilt and self-blame. Was today supposed to be a day of humiliation for me? Was Papa's hospitalization somehow meant to be? And was Omar's exhausting work schedule all part of some twisted fate?
The questions swirled in my mind, leaving me breathless and unable to stand. I collapsed onto the bench, tears streaming down my face as I thought about Omar's selfless efforts for our family, while I seemed to be the source of all our troubles.
Can someone mean well but still end up hurting those they love? That's exactly what I'd done. I had never intended for things to unfold like this, and only God knew why they had. My tears fell harder, and I began to hiccup. "What have I done?" I sobbed, my shoulders shaking violently. "I didn't mean for this to happen, I swear! This is all my fault!"
Omar handed me a bottle of water, which I drank greedily, trying to calm my racing thoughts. He placed a comforting hand on mine, gently wiping away my tears.
"Sally, don't blame yourself too much. Life is full of unexpected twists and turns, and only God knows the reasons behind them. Please, try to stay positive and pray for the best." He offered me the food again, his expression firm but gentle.
"You need to eat something, sis. You're shaking, and you haven't eaten all day. Papa's in the hospital, and Ma is worried sick. We can't afford to have you fainting on us too." His words struck a chord, and I reluctantly took the food, forcing myself to eat despite my lack of appetite.
Omar's eyes locked onto mine, awaiting my response. "So, Sally, where have you been?" he asked gently. I hesitated, collecting my thoughts before speaking.
"You know Mrs. Kashmir, the widow who lives alone with her kids outside our community?" I began, taking another spoonful of food. Omar nodded, encouraging me to continue.
I reluctantly shared my story, not wanting to relive the humiliation. "I went to her house to ask if she'd hire me as a maid. I needed to find a way to support our family, Omar. But Fatima had completely ruined my chances of getting hired." I paused, picking at my food without appetite.
Omar's expression turned stern. "So, you traveled all the way to Mrs. Kashmir's house, alone and on foot, despite the dangers? Please, Sally, think before you act next time." He looked away, his concern and frustration evident. I nodded silently, feeling a deep sense of remorse.
Omar sighed and asked, "What happened after you met Fatima? How did she ruin your chances of getting hired?" I recounted the entire ordeal, taking a deep breath to compose myself. I had cried enough for one day.
Omar offered a comforting gesture, squeezing my hand gently. "Sorry, Sally. I had no idea you were trying to help us. You should have told me first, though. Maybe then you would have received Mom's blessings." He forced a smile, his eyes filled with empathy. "Let's not dwell on it, okay? Just cheer up, sis."
I nodded, feeling a slight improvement in my mood. Omar encouraged me to finish my food and then head to the general hospital. "I have to get back to work; my break ended three minutes ago," he said with a chuckle.
He patted me on the head, pinched my cheek, and gave me a brief hug before returning to work. His gestures brought a faint smile to my face.
I finished the remaining food and felt a significant improvement in my mood. I was grateful for Omar's unwavering support and love for our family. With renewed strength, I headed to the general hospital, anxious about what lay ahead. My mind was filled with apprehension as I thought about Papa lying in the hospital bed and Mamai's potential reaction when she saw me.
Would she scold me and slap me for leaving without her knowledge, or would she hug me tightly and express her worry about my well-being? I had no idea, but I knew that if I received a slap, I deserved it.
Upon arriving at the hospital, I approached the reception desk, where a bespectacled lady greeted me. "Good day, how may I help you?" she asked, her eyes fixed on the computer screen.
I explained that I was there to visit my father and provided my relationship to him. She noted down my name, but I noticed the spelling was incorrect – "Samaa Sidiki" instead of Salma Siddiqui I chose not to correct her, as it was a minor issue compared to Papa's health.
I stood before the hospital room door, my heart racing with anticipation and worry. I pinched my forearm, a nervous habit of mine, and took a deep breath.
With shaky hands, I pushed open the door and stepped inside. "Assalamaleikum," I said softly, my eyes adjusting to the sight of Papa lying in the hospital bed, a drip in his hand and a heart monitor beeping beside him.
My heart skipped a beat as I took in the scene. My eyes welled up with tears, and I felt a lump form in my throat.
As I stepped forward, Mama stood up, shocked and relieved to see me. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she rushed towards me, embracing me tightly. "Vajza ime!"(my daughter!) she exclaimed, her voice trembling. "You're safe!" I hugged her back, tears streaming down my face. "I'm sorry, Mamai, I'm so sorry for all this," I sobbed, seeking forgiveness.
Mama's response was warm and soothing, as she patted my back and spoke gentle words in Albanian. I felt a wave of relief wash over me, grateful that my imagination's worst fears had not come to pass.