Astraphobia

It was a beautiful morning, birds chirping, the wind howling amidst the rustling leaves, the shadow of grey clouds in the sky overshadowing the sun and the smell of a freshly brewed coffee. It was all so beautiful and breathtaking, I sat in my verandah waiting for the rain to enhance the beauty of the scenery. There was a lightning followed by loud thunder, I rushed to the bed and covered myself in blanket. I picked up a book to distract myself from the fear. It was going to rain which meant no leaving house for that period.

Rains in Jeddah were rare but when it rained, it would flood the streets and leave the city in mess. When trees shed off their leaves to be covered in snow during winter in cold countries, it would rain in Jeddah to welcome the winter season.

I loved being home and reading lazily with no care in the world. Books distracted me from the vexation of life, characters talked to me without speaking, it wasn’t lonely with books.

The door of my room flew open, in stood my mom glaring at me. I started recollecting what I had done since morning to find out the reason behind her anger.

Utensils; washed, the stove; cleaned, breakfast; ready. She picked up the phone and asked why was it off.

I looked blankly at her, it was waste reminding her incidents that happened three years ago when she would forget the next moment.

I stood from my bed, went to the kitchen and returned back with her breakfast and medicines. She said there was no time to eat since Aryam called, we need to leave for the hospital.

My older sister Aryam was pregnant and her due date was close. While the news worried my mom, I was excited to hold the baby.

I messaged our driver and packed the essentials for the stay in the hospital.

The ride was serene, it was still drizzling but roads were mostly clear. We crossed our old house and the memory came rushing back, it was like someone had hit me with a rock on my chest; dad’s death!

I still remember the day when we recieved the news that dad’s car had been struck by lightening. Mom was traumatized and later diagnosed with dementia. People began calling to say how sorry and upset they were at my loss, they visited us often and talked about how good my parents were, it was unfortunate of me to go through this loss at such a young age, they repeated the incident of my dad’s death, they said it all on my mom’s face, she heard it but never remembered, in my opinion dementia is a blessing.

I realized that people acted sympathetically because it made them feel good about themselves, to them their frequent visits were a charity to an orphan. To stop them I insisted on moving to a new house, I cut off all the connections from the outside world. Aryam respected my decision and only requested to take care of mom. I felt bad for her, she couldn’t cut off the contact like me even if she wanted to, she still had to meet the relatives and excuse hereself from revealing our address.

We reached the hospital, it was 9:10 a.m., we were directed to the third floor, room number 4207. Aamir, Aryam’s husband was outside the room, he informed that Aryam was going to be taken to the operation theater. His mom greeted us, before she could initiate a conversation Aamir informed that Aryam was waiting for me.

My once beautiful sister looked hollow, like life was being sucked out from her, her bumpy stomach, drips on her hands, dry lips and eyes sunken in sockets, her hair greasy and messed. She tried to smile seeing me, I was so pathetic, I couldn’t smile back, fear clearly written on my face. I was worried for her. She told me how she fasted 12 hours for the operation and that she couldn’t eat and drink even after the operation. I was horrified. There was machine recording baby’s heartbeat, the only good sign in the room.

Aryam was taken to the operation theater while we waited in a room assigned for her. At 11 Aamir came and took me and mom to see the baby, she was in nursery along with all the other newborns. Aamir asked if I would like to hold her, I was too scared to touch her afraid that my nails might hurt her or my hold would be too tight so I shook my head.

Aryam returned by 12, unconscious, on a stretcher. The nurses shifted her to the bed, gave her some injection, put the drip back and left. She was unconsciously crying in pain, my heart crumpled at her state, mom was fast asleep, Aamir had gone out for Zuhr salah, I was again alone with my thoughts, I kept staring at the two ladies in the room, noticing what motherhood had done to them. My mom had gone thru the same state that my sister was in. Every mother had walked the same path, it was not just a matter of nine months, those nine months are just a trailer, the entire movie is full of sacrifices and selfless love and restless life spent worrying for the wellbeing of the child. I mentally apologized to mom for the times I hurt her and wasn’t patient with her. I sat beside her drowning in guilt unable to speak, when I had the chance, I was busy being a nasty teenager and now when I realized my mistake Allah had taken away my voice.

The sound of thunder woke my mom, she embraced me in a hug seeing my tear stained face, “I won’t let it harm you, you are safe” she said. Dementia can take away a person’s memory but not their feelings.

#contest #story #fictional #rain #autumn #thunder #phobia #mom #baby #writer