I'm so sorry for the long wait! But here it is, finally...
~s~c~
I don't look. I simply refuse to look. If I refuse to acknowledge it, it'll go away. If I don't actually see it, it isn't real.
I stay away from mirrors. I know what they'll show me, know it only too well. Sometimes, I'll catch a glimpse of myself, caught unawares. What I see makes me cringe. I'm so thin, so very thin and pale. It's like I've become my own shadow… My eyes dull and empty, a reflection of my life.
I avoid seeing my wife. I look at her of course, she wouldn't tolerate it if I didn't. But I don't actually see her. She's there, a constant presence in my mind and at my side. But it's almost like she isn't a real person to me anymore. She tries to talk to me, does her best to reach me, but all I give is as little as I can get away with. A snippet of conversation, a bland smile, a quick peck or casual touch, that is all I have in me to give.
I haven't looked at that bloody family photo Mum insisted on since the first time she forced it under my nose. Once was enough, thank you. What I saw was a British-Asian family, dressed in colourful, traditional clothes, smiling at the camera. Proud parents, displaying their children and their beautiful daughter in law. The eldest son looked perfectly at ease, an established member of that family, smiling, belonging… I feel no connection to this man. How can that be me? It isn't me…
I've distanced myself from the world around me by looking away. I've retreated into myself and have become my mask. At times it's like the person I was behind that mask has disappeared and now the mask is all that is left. A mask good enough to convince everyone, except those that know better.
Amira for one. She knows something is wrong, I know she does, but she doesn't come out and say it thankfully. I've heard her take a breath, as if getting ready to ask me something big. I've felt her staring at me, at night in our bed, as I feign sleep. I realise this can't go on. There will be a confrontation and when it comes, I hope I'll have some words to say. Because right now? I have nothing…
No words for Mum, who knows only too well what's wrong with me, even if she'll never admit it. She watches me, almost constantly still. But even if I had the words, she wouldn't be interested in hearing them. All she wants is the illusion. I'm hanging on, in part for her, but I don't know if I can hang on for much longer… I'll either have to snap myself out of this state of half-life and face the world again, or… Or I'll drown. I will become mask, I will become shadow, and the me I once was will simply fade away.
I'm avoiding life. It's trying to force me to make choices I'm not sure I'm ready to make. I don't know if I ever will be…
I don't want to move out of home and live in that dump of a flat with Amira. The place is tiny and the thought of being cooped up with her like that is making me want to scream. I've blamed my lack of enthusiasm for any physical relationship between us on the thin walls and big ears numerous times. There's another one of my escape routes cut right off. I loosen my collar and make an effort to calm my breathing. I cannot do this. I can't.
But what I also can't do, is live with Mum for much longer. I can't breathe under her scrutiny, she's doing my head in. What the fuck more does she want from me anyway? I'm trying, aren't I? I am. Never mind that it's killing me.
I know what I don't want. I don't want to live with Mum any longer. I don't want to move into a tiny flat with Amira. And yet, those are my only choices…
~s~c~
I don't want this. I don't want this… The words keep turning over and over in my mind. Amira has made the decision for us, and now I'm supposed to convince Mum and Dad that moving into this tiny flat is actually a good idea. Now if only I could convince myself…
I check the time and curse. Amira should have been here by now. My parents could be here any minute and I don't think I'll be able to convince them of anything by myself.
I look around the small, damp smelling flat. I don't want this, I think again and again. But the trouble is, the only alternative is staying where we are. And that's not what I want either. This is hopeless…
A sharp nock at the door interrupts my train of thought. I rush to the door, hoping it will be Amira.
'Mum, Dad, come in please,' I say as I swing the door open.
'Thank you son,' Dad says, walking past me, Mum following suit.
The look on their faces speak volumes.
'You've just got to… use your imagination… It'll look completely different when it's decorated,' I try. It sounds half-hearted, even to my own ears. Shit, this is going to be a disaster…
Mum has a look of complete horror on her face. Dad has apparently decided to inspect every corner of the tiny flat and find fault with the lot.
'Hmmm… Argh, what's this?' he proclaims. He's found some iffy smelling dust and holds it out for Mum to sniff.
'It's nothing that can't be fixed,' I protest, starting to feel desperate.
The arguing seems to go on and on. Dad has no trouble finding flaw after flaw and Mum's disapproval reaches new heights. I think she'd drag me out by my hair if she could. Just grit your teeth and bear it, I tell myself. If I go back now, that means a lot more time right under their noses, them, Mum, scrutinising my life as they're scrutinising this flat. No. Just, no. I might not be happy about moving into this flat, but I think my need to get away from them might be greater than my need to not be here…
I cringe as I see Dad pick a new target.
'What's this? Ah, it's mouse poo'.
'Ok, no no no no no no, that does it,' Mum cries out. 'You are moving into this place over my dead body'.
She's shaking her head and flapping her hands about, a sure sign of how agitated she's feeling. This is going nowhere fast.
'I'll sort it Mum!' I blurt out. Because I want her to stop. To please stop and just fucking go away already.
'No you won't Syed!' she bites at me. 'You always say you do, but you don't. This is you all over. Jumping in without giving anything a thought. No, this is not going to happen'.
I'm shocked at how her harsh words can still hurt me so much. I've heard it all before, many times unfortunately. But somehow, that doesn't make it any easier to take.
That's the moment Amira picks to finally show up.
'Ok, ok,' she says, holding up her hands in mock surrender. 'Mum, Dad, I know you're worried about the decorating. So am I. Which is why I've called in some professional help'.
My heart stops. It literally stops beating for a moment, before it starts thumping, loud and fast. I know what's going to happen a split second before he walks in. Christian…
'Well actually, that ain't strictly true, is it. Well not professional. But I did once do this house up for a dancer mate of mine and, well, he was more than happy with the results,' he says, casual as you like.
I'm not sure what's happening to me… There he is, looking like the poster boy for DIY in his ridiculous dungarees, carrying his tools and a ladder. A ladder for fuck's sake! My breathing is out of control, along with my heart. I'm panicking. I don't know what to do…
From the corner of my eyes, I see Mum flick her gaze between me and Christian, looking for my reaction. I should pull myself together, but there's no chance of that any time soon. I think I might be in shock.
'Aren't I brilliant Mum?' Amira says, sounding smug. 'Christian will take care of everything for us. He'll have the place in tiptop shape, ready for Syed and I to move in in no time'.
Mum isn't quick enough with her reply. She's seen my reaction, I know she has, and she's struggling to regain control of herself. She manages it eventually, evoking no more than a quizzical look from Dad as a comment on the awkward silence.
'Oh… yes,' she finally manages, giving a smile that shows too much teeth to be mistaken for genuine. 'I'm sure he'll do a splendid job'.
I only half hear her. I'm vaguely aware of a conversation going on, Dad pointing out all the flat's deficiencies and Christian cheerfully stating how he'll fix every one.
I'm not listening. I'm too busy panicking to actually listen. The sight of Christian, here, so close, looking as gorgeous as ever… It brings it all back. It was there all along of course, denied but not forgotten.
I'm not even sure why it's hit me so hard all of a sudden. I mean, it isn't as if I haven't seen him around at all. I suppose it's the fact that he'll be here now, every day. And the way he looks. I can't deny it. Even though the dungarees are less then flattering perhaps, they do expose those fantastic , naked, arms. Those arms that represent so much of what I love, so much of what I've been craving… Strength, warmth, a feeling of belonging…
The walls of protection I had pulled up around me, start to crumble. I try and hold them up, too scared of what will happen when I'm left vulnerable and unprotected. But it's no use... Within seconds, those walls have come crashing down with a violence that leaves me reeling in its wake.
I won't look him in the eyes. Whenever his gaze floats my way, I quickly glance down. I think I might cry if I don't. Because all I want is him. Still. As hard as I've fought, that's all it comes down to. Wanting him. Needing him.
What am I going to do? What the hell am I going to do…
~s~c~
Thank you to all that have left me a review so far. I can't believe I've hit the 300 mark :-o
You have no idea how much that means to me :-)
