Chapter Seven

           THE SUDDEN, SHARP SOUND OF a bell ringing pulled Fatiha from the trance she had indulged herself. She was seated under a Flamboyant tree not far from the school buildings where her close friend, Basmah worked. Fatiha turned to look at one of the classes with a red paint above the door that read Sss2 A. The bell rang again and the students spilled out of their classes in greens and creams even before their teachers did.

It took a while for Basmah to appear but Fatiha saw her friend, eventually. Clad in her usual work attire: a perfectly ironed black slacks paired with a light gray button down blouse, and a thigh length jacket. Basmah shuffled out of the class looking pissed and ready to claw out someone's eyes.

Knowing the teacher for more than a decade, Fatiha knew she wasn't pissed off at the students. Basmah loved her students even though she avoided showing it. She was probably furious about something else. Something related to family.

After staring at the irate lady for a while, Fatiha finally pulled out her phone from the crocheted bag at her feet, typed down a text then sent it to her friend.

From her seat under the tree, Fatiha watched as the very dark skinned lady in her late twenties dug her phone out from her pocket. Fatiha saw her friend's temple furrow as she read the text, then she looked up and give the school grounds a sweep of her eyes, stopping when they landed on her guest.

With a weak wave and a tight-lipped smile, Fatiha called her over. She could hear her friend's sigh all the way from her seat, but was glad to see her coming over.

"What are you doing here?" Basmah interrogated the moment she closed the distance between the both of them. She flung her attendance book to the sand littered with red dying petals and plopped herself down next to Fatiha on a sturdy root of the tree with another sigh. This one fatigued.

In all the years that Basmah had started teaching, Fatiha had never known the physics teacher to carry around a lesson note. Basmah was that smart that she had gone to study physics in the university just so she could be a good physics teacher.

Pulling her legs up, Fatiha wrapped her arms around her keens. "Asalamualaykum to you too," she said.

Basmah didn't seem to want to play around with words. She turned to look hard at her friend. "Why are you here?" she asked again.

Fatiha pursed her lips in slight hurt. "Can't a friend just come over to her friend's place of work and say hi?"

Basmah snorted. "If it were Noor asking me that question right now, right here, it would be a different case. But it's you, Fatiha."

"What does that mean?" Fatiha demanded with faux disbelief. She knew exactly what her friend meant.

Nooriya Adam Madaki did the strangest of things and it wasn't just for her blog or YouTube channel. No. Noor was just like that. Noor was Noor. Dramatic. A ball of positive charged up energy. It probably was a good thing when one was in the line of business she was into, though.

Fatiha, however, was not. Reserved. Awkward. If it were up to Fatiha, which it wasn't when she had the sort of mother she had, she'd prefer to stay locked up with all that she needed close by. Books, food, water, chocolates and some yarns. She was putting herself down, she knew. But with what she had been through, Fatiha knew she had a long way to go before she became the sort of confident woman she wanted to be. The kind of confident women she had as friends.

"It means there's something wrong." Basmah disclosed. "I know Nooriya is around, so why didn't you go to her?"

Using her toes, Fatiha nudged at the sand underneath her feet until the grains coated her big toe. "I just wanted to see you. It's lunch break, let's go eat." It was a lie. She wasn't ready to go to Noor's house because going there meant seeing him. If it was possible, Fatiha wanted to avoid running into Munir as much as she could until he went back to wherever he'd come from.

"I'm fasting." Was Basmah's simple reply.

"Fasting?!" Fatiha shrieked, turning to look at the lady who was older than her by two years but still a dear friend of hers.

Among the three friends she had, Basmah Hussayn was the oldest followed by Aabidah Ali who was away on her honeymoon with her husband at the moment. After Aabidah's husband who had been a pilot died, she had returned back to her hometown which was where she met her current husband.

Fatiha could remember the wedding which had taken place just a month ago. She could also recall the way her friend had trembled with anxiety like every new bride did because a part of Fatiha had been jealous then, but she had reminded herself that everything happened according to Allah's plan and that all she had to do was have sabr. But her patience was growing thin and after the conversation she'd had with Munir a week ago, Fatiha feared that she might commit a sin soon by questioning her Lord.

"Fatiha!" Basmah yelled.

"Yes?"

"Why did you say fasting in that unbelieving tone?"

"I did?" Fatiha asked slowly as she tried to pull her mind from last week's conversation with Munir.

"Yes, you did." Basmah pointed out. "Do you think I can't do it?"

Fatiha tried to laugh it off. "Of course not. I mean, it's just... I was just surprised. Why are you fasting again?"

"I'm repaying my missed fasts."

The gasp was out before Fatiha could think about it. She slapped a hand over her mouth and scooted away from Basmah who glared at her.

"Look," Basmah said, "I'm in a really bad mood right now, so don't make me use the transfer.  Okay, sweetheart?"

Knowing she wouldn't want to talk about what was bothering her, Fatiha stuck to nodding instead, then softly asked, "Repaying your fasts? Just now?"

"What's just now?" Her friend rolled her darkly lined eyes. "There's still time. I only missed seven fasts, so I'm sure I can repay them in time. Besides, there's no fixed time for repaying a missed fast, so I can do it any time. Don't look at me like that. I'm older than you."

Fatiha could not believe her ears. Yes, her friend was a teacher who barely had time, but still repaying her fasts now? "But I always asked you if you've repaid your fasts and you always said yes."

"Did I?" Basmah enquired without glancing at her companion. "I can still do it, so stop nagging."

Fatiha pressed her lips together in exasperation. She closed her eyes for a bit, engaging in some breathing techniques that was said to help with relaxation. She wasn't nagging but of course whenever it came to reminding Basmah of these important things, Fatiha's advice could be considered as nothing but arrogant nagging. Fatiha didn't try to say anything else, she just hoped Basmah would at least for her own sake repay her fasts. Ramadan was just right around the corner.

"We have just a few weeks until Ramadan starts, when are you buying your Ramadan food stuffs?" Basmah asked.

Fatiha shrugged. "I don't know yet. I'll have to ask my mom."

"Hmm, okay." Basmah nodded like she understood, which she actually did.

Rashidah Abdullah always made sure to give her girls a list of what to buy weeks before Ramadan began, this year, however she seemed to have forgotten. Fatiha made a mental note to ask her mother about it as soon as she went back home.

The girls sat and watched the students running around in silence for a while until Basmah suggested; "Would you like to talk to Abs?"

"Aabidah?"

"You know I know why you're here, right?" Basmah exposed. "It's Faisal, isn't it?"

Just hearing his name made Fatiha's heart skip a beat. Whether it was from the love she harbored for him or it was from the fear of what Munir had said coming to pass, she had no idea. But one thing she knew was that she was close to teetering off the edge and yet, she didn't know if Faisal was the cause or if Munir Adam was.

"You know I give terrible advice when it comes to men, right? So, I'm not the right person to come to for such advice."

"It's not." Fatiha lied, then stuttered, "It's not because of him. I'm not here because of Faisal." But could denying part of the truth really be called a lie? Sure, Faisal was involved but it was Munir's involvement in all of it that scared Fatiha the most.

Basmah was already dialing Aabidah's number but she glanced briefly at her friend before disconnecting the call with an "Okay." She scratched her head through the soft fabric of the veil she'd fashioned into a hijab as she watched the kids moving about the school grounds.

"Why are you seating here?" Basmah suddenly asked in a quiet voice after just yelling at a group of senior boys who were cornering two junior female students. The contrast startling Fatiha.

She was going to lie again, Fatiha knew it even before she responded. It seemed to be all she had been doing since coming back from Abuja. About Faisal. About their relationship. About that day with Munir. About how she was feeling. And about why she was currently where she was.

"You could have stayed in the teachers room and waited for me. Why are you, instead, seating here under this blistering sun?" Basmah pondered aloud.

"Of course, because there's more air here." Fatiha lied. She was just uncomfortable around the other teachers. During her school days, she had been a reserved student who made sure she didn't stand out too much in front of her teachers, because gaining the favour of her teachers brought on more liabilities her way.

"The teacher's room is very hot and besides, I'm wearing a khimar." She told Basmah. "I'm not ready to die from heatstroke just yet."

"Hmm," Basmah looked intently down at her companion but dropped the subject and they once again elapsed into silence.

The teacher called a few students, either to warn or inform them about something, then she turned to her friend to ask, "It is not because you're running from something or worried about something, is it?"

Fatiha laughed nervously and shifted under her friend's pinning gaze. "What do you mean?"

"Ugly fact?" Basmah asked and Fatiha hesitantly nodded. "We schooled here, Tia. I'm not dumb and heartless enough to not care about knowing what this place is to my friend. It's your alone spot. Which is somehow ironical because everyone passes here."

Fatiha gave a laugh but didn't say anything. She didn't have anything to say to be honest. Basmah's ugly facts and truths most times left people at a loss for words. So,  instead of arguing that her friend had gotten it all wrong, she sat there and watched as Basmah grumbled but informed her that she was calling the only married woman among their group of friends.

"If you ask for my advice, it'll be ugly.  I'll tell you to break up with Faisal, you know that. But maybe there's something else you want to hear. Something I might not be able to tell you. So, I'm calling the love expert. Luckily, I have a date with her."

Fatiha had decided not to call her newlywedded friend so that she could have enough time with her new husband before they returned back home and resumed work. It took a moment for the Skype call to connect but when it did, Fatiha couldn't be more glad to have a chance to talk to the sweetest person she knew.

Aabidah's face filled the screen of Basmah's phone but it was her smile that Fatiha took home with her after she left the school.

————

     "Asalamualaykum," Fatiha called out as she stepped into the deserted compound of her parents house. She paused for a while just in front of the entrance door that led to the general parlor to call out her greeting again.

There was still no answer. With pursed lips she crossed the threshold and strolled down the well lit hallway into the parlor all the while wondering where her sisters and mother were. She ended up finding Nafeesah, her youngest sister seated in the dining room. She had books spilled open across the dining table with a headphone on, her hair which had been neatly braided two days back had been scratched roughly and robbed of its neatness and beauty.

Fatiha crossed the large space used as the general parlor in large strides till she got to her sister. She pulled off the headphones without warning and in turn scared the girl.

Nafeesah screamed with her hand on her heart. "Ya Fatiha! You should have said something." She whined.

Fatiha snickered. "You too dey fear. And besides I did salama." She dropped the white polythene bag she had arrived with on the heavy wooden table with a thud and used her finger to tap her hidden ear. "Na you no hear. You girls should share it amongst yourselves."

She began to leave but the next thing she knew, Fatiha was being crushed in a side hug. "Thank you, thank you!" Nafeesah screamed in Hausa with gale.

Fatiha laughed alongside her sister and it felt good. It had been a while since she had done so with the girls and she almost felt guilty about it. To be honest, it had been a while since she'd had normal conversations and bickers with her sisters. She had drawn a line and had silently told them not to cross it when all that was happening to her wasn't even their fault.

"You know what?" Fatiha asked her sister who had gone back to her seat. "How about we hang out tonight? Let's play a game or watch a movie?"

Nafeesah popped out of her seat and squeaked in delight. "Really?! That would be nice. We've been missing you."

"Yes. Where's Zarah and Madina?"

"Eh," the smile left the younger girl's face and gave way to thoughtful creases between her thick and dark brows. "They're not around."

"Oh, okay. Then let them know when they get home, okay? We'll use my room." Fatiha instructed and started for the direction of her room but was stopped by her sister again.

"I almost forgot," she said in English, then in Hausa said, "Mom said she wants to see you."

With a slow intake of air, Fatiha looked to the opposite direction where her mother's room was. Letting the air go, she changed directions and headed for her mother's room instead of hers. 

She knocked once before entering the brightly lit room and for a moment Fatiha wondered why the entire house was so bright.

Rashidah Abdullah's room was as elaborate as the woman herself. There was a king size bed in the middle of the black and wine themed room, a golden chandelier, and huge closets. Fatiha had always found it strange how her parents differed from each other. Her mother was tough spoken while her father was soft. If there was any good news, their father would want it to stay in the confines of their huge home until it was official to be out in public. Fatiha's mother however, screamed it to the world without hesitation.

Fatiha had only been to her father's room a few times since her birth but she knew from his white themed room that both her parents were polar opposites of each other. How they ended up with each other was the million dollar question.

Like she and Faisal. The thought crossed her mind and she smiled.

"Asalamualaykum," Fatiha greeted her mother who was seated in front of the only bright coloured furniture in her room; a silver and ivory crafted vanity table which came with three mirrors. Her voice was surprisingly light and gale. "Nafee said you wanted to see me."

"Yes, I did." Her mother drawled as she dragged a face wipe across the skin of her face. The white material came off with thick brown stains that had Fatiha wondering where her mother had gone.

"Did you go out?" Fatiha inquired as she settled down on the edge of her mother's littered bed. The array of clothes she had never seen before that pilled over each other on her mother's bed doubled her curiosity.

"No, I didn't." Was her mother's sloppy response. 

Since her mother was giving her brachysyllabic replies, Fatiha decided to just wait for her to tell her what it was she needed from her.

Finally her mother tossed the used face wipes now coated with her heavy makeup base into a waste bin she kept beside her vanity table. She stood up and Fatiha noticed that she was dressed up in her favorite boubou lace gown. The boubou gown she used to welcome guests. A knot formed in Fatiha's stomach before she even got the news.

"I've found you a husband. End things with Faisal so we can begin preparing for the wedding."

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Asalamu alaykum guys! Surprising chapter, right? I can't believe I wrote this in a day. I'm so proud of myself so I'm going to reward myself for doing a great work.

Anyways, I hope you're all doing great. Don't forget to vote, comment, and share.

Stay safe and take care.
Ma salaam 😘