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TW: Suicidal ideation
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Thank you.
Ibrahim
Chapter 42
The Question
The following morning, when I went into the kitchen to make myself and Azizah breakfast - I decided that I'd refrain from hiring house service, as I quite liked having something to do - I found that my sister was already awake. Hair long, black, and out of the hijab, she had it parted and tossed to the front of each shoulder. She sat at the kitchen table and had her eyes fixed on a thin, flat book.
"Good morning," I greeted. I started for the eggs. A simple dish that I'd watched our cooks make a thousand times as a boy. As of now, Azizah's and my cooking consisted of eggs, rice, and fruits. Eggs and rice were easy. Fruit did not require cooking at all. Azizah had asked me if I was sure I didn't want to hire someone to make us food. I was sure, but I had a similar question for her now. I cracked four eggs, one after another, into the pan. Not very expertly. I needed to pull a shell fragment or two out.
My sister smiled at me. I cleared my throat and said, "Azizah?"
"Hm?" She was back to the book now. Intent. Like she was deep in study.
"Question for you." The eggs started to sizzle.
Her eyes were up again. "Yes, Ibrahim?"
"You remember Christine." I picked up the spatula. "My friend. The girl with blue eyes."
"Yes, I remember." She nodded. "She seems kind. I think it would be nice to see her again."
I looked at her. "Have you been wishing for that?"
"A bit. But I don't want to impose. She has a husband."
"I'm sure it wouldn't be an issue." And I'd certainly ask. Today, in fact. I'd make a short trip.
"Is...that what you wanted to ask me?" she said.
"No." I moved the eggs around in the pan.
"Do you want any help with those?"
"No. Listen. I bring up Christine because she suggested the idea of hiring a caretaker for you."
She blinked. "A caretaker?"
"Yes. For when I am away."
"Nadir does a good job of that," she said, then blushed. "Unless, Ibrahim, you wish for me to have a caretaker instead. If you find the current situation inappropriate."
"I do find it inappropriate," I responded, but then noticed the flash of disappointment in her face, and I sighed. "But I've never been appropriate myself, have I?"
She smiled, no doubt remembering my antics as a child. If she knew how far those antics went today, she'd scold me fiercely, older brother or no.
"Do you want a caretaker, Azizah?"
She considered this, looked down at her hands. "Do you want me to have one?"
"That wasn't my question. I asked what you want."
"I..." She didn't look up. "I wish to know what you'd prefer I say, Ibrahim."
I flipped the eggs, eyeing her. "And I'd like to hear your true answer."
Distress crossed her features. "I don't want to give you a wrong answer. Please tell me what you'd like me to say."
My gaze snapped to hers. I saw this conversation playing out a dozen times before in her eyes, with a different man in a different place. She was genuinely frightened I'd rage at whatever truth she told. And that fear was not borne of nothing.
I moved the eggs from the heat and sat across from her. She worried her lower lip, but looked up when I put my hand on hers.
"Dear sister," I said softly, "no answer that you give will be wrong. If I expected a specific answer, I would not be asking. I would be telling. But I am asking, Azizah. Do not fear anger and pain from me. I will not give it to you. Do you understand?"
She held my gaze and nodded, then paused before whispering: "I like when Nadir and Reza spend time with me while you are gone. And I feel I can care for myself fine when you're here, or when you leave for short times. I...don't very much want a caretaker. Besides, I am sure to be due any minute." She glanced down at her stomach. I couldn't read her expression when she did. "The caretaker will be short-lived."
"What about once the babe is born? Won't you want help?"
She turned her hand over so that her palm met mine. A smile touched her lips. Gratitude. "If I need help, I will ask. Yes?"
"Yes," I agreed. That was that, then. I finally looked at the book she had open. "What's this?"
"Ah!" she said, suddenly joyful. "Nadir gave this to me. To practice, you see." She pointed to a page with the drawn picture of a dog. Underneath was the word 'chien'. "It's a children's book. But look - I can already read it. Dog." A pause, and she giggled. "I know, the picture is right there. But I truly can read it. Here. Pick another page. Cover the picture and have me read the word."
I did so, knowing the eggs still needed attention, but I suspected Azizah needed it more. I picked out the word for horse and covered the accompanying illustration. I smiled, hiding the biting sadness that claimed my chest, gnawed at my heart.
Azizah had Nadir to teach her. Care for her. She would clearly be content hiring some stranger to clean and cook. So she, really, did not need me.
What was I good for, then?
Why was I here?
Why - why, really, was I alive? What was keeping me from taking myself out of the world entirely?