*barf*
The free show had succeeded on taming the hot-blooded Nadirah, and despite how the temptation of escaping from the misery still running strong in her veins, she always liked to earn more points in those comedians’ books. After all, the two of them were indeed, amongst the popular writers on the site.
>Suri says:
Fine, I’ll lend you my favor, but a tiny amount of it, and no more.
>Ty says:
How come? O.o
>Suri says:
Unlike you, my dear friend, I actually have a life. And I’m breathing in it…in case you’ve forgotten what it’s like to have a life, that is.
>Ty says:
Oh lol But what about your column? D:
>Suri says:
I thought I’ve told you that my column will take a supplementary break.
>Ty says:
Oh yeah. You did. Oh well. Happy vacationing =D
>xyru says:
@Suri
Thank you very much. And don’t worry, I’ll try to manage the latter. It’s just that my motivation’s been running low every time I saw that humongous number on my email’s inbox. *shivers* If you don’t mind Suri, could you take the last ten, and Ty, you can take the last ten, and I will manage the rest.
Am I clear, or am I confusing? D:
>Ty says:
Crystal clear!
>Suri says:
Never been clearer.
>xyru says:
Good. I’ll give a message regarding my email address and password to both of you later then. Thanks again. I need to log off, I also have a life you see 8D
>Suri says:
Surely you will not ask for our help if you didn’t have one…
>Ty says:
Oh no Suri are you logging off as well? D:
Well, she hadn’t taken her breakfast yet.
>Suri says:
Is there a problem boss?
>Ty says:
Yeah, I want to be the first to log off! Bye bye Suri!
The administrator can be a tad insane sometimes.
Nadirah wrote her last words of farewell, and after closing the browser, she exited her room and headed to the kitchen. She was only halfway through her destination when she noticed Widad in the living room, freshly dolled up with her dewy make-up, elegantly clad in her brand-new yet expensive clothing.
Widad was glamorous—Nadirah knew that much. She was even certain that if Widad were to become a beauty writer just like her, she will steal her readers in a snap.
“Let’s go!” Widad was beaming with excitement, her high-pitched voice echoed throughout the room.
Nadirah peered at the nearby wall clock. “It’s 9—”
“I know,” she rolled her eyes, closing the distance between them, “But the party will start on 11!”
“It’s not yet—”
“11, I know, but we couldn’t arrive exactly at 11 if we didn’t go now!”
“Well,” Nadirah licked her lips nervously, “Her house—”
“Is not that far, I know, but it’s not that often we get a chance to go there! We can do some sight-seeing first and then,” she said indignantly, “We can visit her house!”
Nadirah was constantly reminded on why talking to Widad was such a pleasure.
No, she wasn’t being sarcastic. In her own twisted mind, she adored the prospect of having others finishing her thoughts, because she’d often get confused with the tedious mind of her own.
Obviously, all those years of managing Najhan had taught Widad on how to handle an easily confused person without breaking a sweat.
“Fine,” it was no use for Nadirah to object Widad’s powerful persuasion, “Let me change—”
“Don’t forget to wear your Meta!”
Nadirah waved her hand lazily.
“And your make-up—Oh!” Widad leaped at her,—nearly literally—loudly exclaimed, “Let me do that for you!”
Nadirah stared into Widad’s eyes with utmost ferocity, loudly wishing that her face wouldn’t be painted by her cousin’s hand. Undeniably, Widad’s makeup skills were far than satisfactory, but if she were to be in complete control and become Nadirah’s makeup artist for the day, she will no doubt use the colors from Nadirah’s very own extensive makeup collections. Knowing Widad, she will know no mercy, and waste a handful of shadows at a mere sweep.
Widad was not someone who had deep appreciation for money. She simply bathed in them.
Nadirah wouldn’t mind much if the shadows belonged to Widad—what’s with her ignorance of value and such—but no, Nadirah definitely bought every single thing with her own limited cash. Thus, she clearly pointed out with every emphasis in each syllable, “Not necessary.”
“Necessary,” echoed Widad—much more staccato than Nadirah had ever produced—before quickly switching her voice into a much alluring substance that was heavy lidded with menace, “Because I said so.”
No matter how hard Nadirah tried, she could never release herself from the clutches of Widad.
No matter how persistence she was in defying Widad’s gravity, this was inevitable.
“Fine.”
There was truly no point in arguing with this diabolic charmer any further.
Nadirah didn’t realize how slow the time was, or how fast their movements were, because by 9.30 am, she found herself comfortably seated in Widad’s luxurious car, already out on the road while listening to her favorite CD.
Favorite CD?
“Arina gave me that,” said Widad quietly, probably sensing the odd tingling in Nadirah’s head like the psychic she was.
Nadirah raised her eyebrows, silently agreeing with that statement. Arina was severely addicted to music, so much that if there were anyone who can recognize all the celebrities on earth, it would be her. And Ty of course.
Ty’s column had always been Arina’s favorite place on earth—despite how such a place didn’t really exist on the earth itself—and Nadirah could feel the doom world approaching closer as the time ticked by, patiently waiting for the moment of her final showdown with Arina at her grandmother’s house.
It also made her realized that she didn’t have much of vital information regarding the celebrity, only for the fact that he was apparently evergreen and classical.
Oh well, at least she had a head on.
As she dwelled further in her upcoming battle with Arina, she couldn’t help but notice the subtle humming by Widad, which was quite bizarre, even for Widad’s standard. Nadirah was tempted to ask, but decided not to since human’s emotion was very complex and surely, a different approach could do wonders in order to crack the ice.
“Sounds good,” Nadirah tried to steer Widad in a good direction, secretly maneuvering toward her own spell.
“Yeah,” she muttered gravely, “Not so bad.”
It was no secret that Arina’s types of music were Widad’s mortal enemies.
“She said that I will like this,” answered Widad.
Suddenly, everything makes sense.
“And I do,” she sighed, “Dreadfully so.”
“Live with it,” Nadirah was trying hard to suppress her laughter.
“I am,” she answered dryly, “Still, hopelessly addicted.”
“Avoid her—”
“She caught me off guard,” she replied glumly. “I didn’t have the time to unleash my natural charm.”
Nadirah stared at her in awe, her mouth couldn’t resist but utter a huge, “Wow.”
It wasn’t always that Widad was bested by a fellow human.
“Yeah,” she echoed in disdain. “Wow.”
Widad didn’t feel comply to stretch the matter further, and Nadirah didn’t feel the need of wasting her saliva more than necessary, so she just sat back and enjoyed the view, trying her best to resist chuckling at her cousin’s unlikely hum.
Minutes later, they’d finally arrived at their destination, and as Nadirah peered at the time, she blinked rapidly before further leaning he
r head toward the digital clock.
The time had just stroked 10.40, and she wondered if the slow time had decided to hasten itself.
Truthfully, it wasn’t too bad, since indeed, they only had twenty minutes left to spare. But still, Widad’s capability of leisurely wasting time on the road with her roguish car did impress Nadirah, more or less.
Nadirah had been to the doctor’s house with her father before, and it didn’t take more than half an hour.
“So,” chirped Widad cheerfully, “Which is the house?”
Nadirah arched her brows.
“Well, we couldn’t possibly do some sight-seeing now, could we? There’s not much time, so,” she clicked her tongue, “Since we’re already here…”
“Oh,” Nadirah pretended to understand the notion, even if she thought her cousin had been acting rather odd.
Too odd, to be frank.
“Searching for the house might’ve taken a longer time than we really thought,” she pointed out.
Nadirah just nodded.
“So,” she tried to recover her nervous tone with a smile, “Where is it?”
Nadirah unzipped her bag, plunging her hand down amidst the messy content and took out a slightly crumpled invitation card.
She held the card tightly with her fingers, her eyes deeply scrutinizing her cousin. “Widad.”
“H-huh?”
It wasn’t until Widad finished stammering did they realize that they had somehow exchanged personality, the hypnotizing CD possibly being the culprit.
Widad was never speechless, never stammered—at least, not beside Nadirah—in her life.
Suddenly, Nadirah felt superior to her cousin, and it was prominent in her speech as she said, “You don’t have any hidden agenda, do you?”
She can feel the Pandora box rocking its way out.
Widad staggered on her wheels as she exchanged nervous glances with Nadirah, uncertain whether she was mortified by Nadirah’s prim tone or by her own dishonesty. She opted to cease speaking, channeling the typical Nadirah’s trait by airily laughing to prove her point.
Yet it proved nothing, except that it definitely added more fuel to the suspicious fire in Nadirah’s head.
“Of course not,” Widad smacked her lips, noticing the impatient stare from her cousin. “Why did you say that?”
Nadirah shrugged. “No reason.”
Widad smiled sheepishly, but as she stared at her cousin again, she was constantly tormented by Nadirah’s overly placid face that she couldn’t help but blurt out, “I-I like to be the first guest!”
First guest. That was almost laughable.
Nadirah wasn’t in the mood to ascertain whether the words were truthful or merely an excuse, and truthfully, she didn’t feel comply to argue, so she was thankful that the house was in view, and that was the truth.
Yet her newfound confidence—or maybe it was just the agitated box—was boiling hard in her soul, beyond overbearing that she couldn’t resist but to snidely remark, “Seems like you’re not the first guest.”
It was true. The house was easy to spot since none of the other houses in this neighborhood had an open parch with food trays and chattering people, donning their best clothes.
“Seems so.” Widad sighed disappointedly, opening her car door and absentmindedly gazed at the humble house in front of her nose. She looked disappointed, and as they walked side by side to the gate of the house, not a word escaped from her mouth, only that of sighs and pained expression.
That confounded Nadirah. She wasn’t sure whether Widad genuinely cared of being the first guest for every gathering, or she just had an uncanny hidden talent in the theater department.
Nadirah went with the latter.
She could be nice, in her own twisted way, of course.
“Nadirah!”
The familiar voice grabbed her attention. As she swiveled around, she was overwhelmed by the friendly face of her psychiatrist, quickly shortening their distance until they were in an acceptable range for a friendly hug and pecks on the cheeks.
“How are you today?” the psychiatrist gently asked, her hands still clutching on Nadirah’s arms.
It was vital to keep a stabilize persona when dealing with your healer.
Nadirah adopted her utmost prim façade, her voice carefully structured to avoid any flyaway menace. “I am fine.” She released herself from the clutches of the doctor and began to tug Widad’s arm forward, saying the rehearsed words carefully, “This is my cousin, Widad.”
Widad shook the doctor’s hand, her face plastered with her serenest smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” the doctor replied with the same enthusiasm. “Nadirah mentioned a lot about you.”
“Really,” Widad’s face unconsciously stretched into a bigger forced grin, not out of impressiveness of course, but rather due to the painful unawareness of the subject in question. She adored the spotlights most of the time, but the thoughts of her name circling around stranger’s head behind close bars didn’t sit too well with her, especially when one of her cousins were involved. She didn’t need others to know about her private affairs, certainly not to this doctor, and Nadirah knew that much. The thought made her smile.
The doctor obviously noticed the slight change in her expression—or maybe her tone—nonetheless, it was expected since she was an expert in humans’ emotions, because she further added, “It’s nice that you’re being so supportive of her.”
Supportive was not Widad, even she knew that much. Nadirah just happened to be the better female cousin than Arina, and that was what made her likeable, since admittedly, she was more reserved and secretive, not at all bossy or demanding, the perfect companion for a day out in a mall.
Everyone knew that.
“It’s,” it seemed as if Widad’s face was forever engraved with the faux smile, “It’s my pleasure.”
Nadirah grinned, thinking aloud that maybe Widad ought to have a session with the doctor to nurture her sudden stammering.
However, she was also quite aware that if she were to announce that malicious thought aloud, her session with the psychiatrist will possibly be prolonged, and the rueful stare from Widad would defiantly be prolonged as well.
It was a good thing that the doctor gestured them inside, chirping like a bird as she said, “Please, help yourself—”
Her eyes bored toward something behind their backs. But before they could follow her gaze, she shifted her attention back to them, her voice sounded awfully hurried, “If you’d excuse me.” She briskly smiled before leaving their side to greet the other guests, most probably the ones behind their backs.
Nadirah wasn’t paying much attention to her psychiatrist. She was still in awe over a house party, unexpectedly crowded with guests, especially when the party had just begun and hadn’t reached the peak time yet. It was odd alright, but she had concluded that maybe everyone shared the same sentiment as Widad—the conclusion being that it was nice to be the first guest.
Maybe it was nice to come early because then, the food would be fresh from the oven and the cutlery had yet to be used by strangers alike, which probably meant less gross and gruesome.
That will sound appropriate to someone like Zahari, not Widad.
Oh well. To each of her own.
Nadirah was enchanted by the house garden, filled with trays of foods and chattering people, and as she tugged Widad along to the said destination, it proved to be solid hard, which confounded her brain.
It was then when she noticed how Widad was actually standing rigidly, thoroughly statuesque that she wondered if one of the guests was actually Medusa in disguised.
She curiously followed Widad’s gaze, and almost instantly, she saw the origin of interest—a guest that was currently being greeted by the psychiatrist with exuberant enthusiasm.
It didn’t seem as if the doctor was affected by the Medusa’s hard gaze, however.
“I-I—”
&nb
sp; “Since when do you stammer?” Nadirah eyed her playfully.
“Since,” Widad gulped. “Since now!” she snapped, suddenly hissing in such a vicious manner. “Listen. Follow me, no word, none at all, you hear?”
Nadirah shrugged, her face glowed with idiotic grin, brimming with adrenaline over her superiority of outranking Widad, mentally noting the day of history, possibly rejoicing over the thought of disclosing the information later to the twins, and several other things began to fly about in her head, but then she softly yelped as Widad tugged her hand hardly, leading her toward a bushy tree, dismissing all the other concoctions her brain had helpfully made, specially for her, and now she had forgotten all about it.
She grunted.
“Okay, here is what we’ll do,” her lips stretched into an overly sweet smile, engulfing Nadirah with the overly familiar sickening sensation, “I will wait in my car, and you will manage on your own in the house.”
Her voice was buttery smooth and dangerously alluring. Nadirah didn’t particularly appreciate her lack of immunity over the charm, but she just answered sincerely, since she didn’t have much of a choice. “Okay.”
And it seemed like her brain had refused to cooperate. Sulking, perhaps.
“Now run along,” she released Nadirah’s hand, patting her back, “And happy eating.”
“You?” Nadirah managed to croak.
“Fast-food’s always available.”
It was no use forcing Widad out of her will.
Widad quickly ran off, unaware of obeying her own order instead of watching Nadirah succumbed to her mighty finger. She barricaded herself inside her car, locking in the total solitude, and never glanced upwards—something that she seldom did.
Actually, it was something that she never did.
Sighing, Nadirah walked back toward the house, emitting negative vibe to everyone that passed by her, loudly muttering in her head, do not talk to me, do not notice me, do not talk to me…
She stacked a pile of food onto her plate, never stopped from emitting her hostile vibe. The connection abruptly crashed however, as she noticed a pair of eyes strangely staring back at her.
The staring went deeper, and she could feel the eyes penetrating into her irises, or maybe it was hers all along that penetrated onto his, but she couldn’t resist the vague sense of familiarity—
“Sorry,” he blurted out. “I thought you looked like someone I know.”
Nadirah blinked rapidly, unaware that the object of attention had shortened his distance and now standing right in front of her.
“Ah,” recovering her conscience, she waved her hand dismissively, “I believe I also thought that you look awfully familiar.”
“Y-you do?” he didn’t look much comfortable, but he tried to hide it with an unmistakably nervous laugh. “Are you sure?”
“Of course,” Nadirah had never been more serious—or perhaps she had—but of this she was quite certain, “You are Ikhwan.”
His eyes widened as he spluttered, “How do you know my name?”
Her last statement didn’t sit too well with him, and that was obvious by his loud, awkward fidgeting, but Nadirah didn’t pay much attention to the odd behavior.
It was a no-brainer that he was familiar, since he indeed was her primary schoolmate who she thought had nice hair.
Funny, that. She didn’t realize that she could have one minor positive thought about something entirely unimportant.
“Of course, you are my primary schoolmate who I—” she could barely manage to stop her tongue from uttering her inner thoughts aloud, which was quite odd, because it hadn’t happened for quite a long time, “I-I sat next to.”
The awkward fidgeting was gone, and his face was genuinely surprised. “Oh, you are—”
“Na—”
“Nadirah.” His face softened, probably gloating over his accurate guessing.
Somehow, that made her quite over the moon happy.
“Yeah,” she grinned.
He sighed in relief, looking overly content for a reason that she couldn’t actually comprehend.
Maybe the thought of remembering a long lost friend had such a great impact on him, you’d never know.
Humans were such complex species.
“No wonder you looked so familiar,” said he, “It’s been bugging me.”
Nadirah could tell that it was bugging the hell out of him.
“So you,” she eyed him carefully, “You have—”
“Have what?” his tone was rigid and too self-conscious that it caught Nadirah off-guard.
She began to think that maybe she shouldn’t be so straightforward, especially on the first meeting, so she amended her inquiry and asked, “Are you by chance an acquaintance of the doctor?”
“Oh,” his tone was a lot softer out of a sudden, “She knows my father.”
“So you come with your father then?” she asked, despite not knowing who his father was.
He shook his head. “No, my brother,” he tilted his chin toward a certain person in the background, and Nadirah followed his gaze as he spoke, “My father’s schedule is quite booked—”
“Oh!” she squealed loudly.
“What?” his voice was oddly startled and tense.
She didn’t realize that her excitement hadn’t been subtly verbal, so she toned down the surprise with a mere, “Oh,” and continued, “I saw him outside.”
“I saw you too,” he commented. “With your cousin. Where is she?”
“She—” her words stuck in her throat as she stared at him suspiciously. “How do you know that she’s my cousin?”
He clamped his teeth. “You don’t have a sister, not that I remember.”
“True,” she acceded.
“She looks like you, so she might be more than a friend.”
“You’re lying.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. So,” he was desperate to change the subject, and by the look of his face, it was resolute, “You are friends with the doctor as well?”
She snorted.
He arched his brows.
“I am the patient.” Nadirah loved to acknowledge the unstable state of her head freely without restriction, and to finally have someone hearing it aloud was such purely bliss. “I have a mental disorder.”
“Oh,” his face darkened with shame. “That’s,” he cleared his throat, “That’s rather unfortunate.”
No!
“No,” she blurted out. It truly wasn’t shameful of having a problem with your head, oddly amusing to say the least, but he was looking at her with such a strange expression that she rather not piled him more with her weirdness, so she added, “The doctor has helped me a lot.”
“That’s good to know,” no microscopic ears were needed to hear the relief in his voice, “She’s a good doctor.”
“Yes,” she agreed airily, didn’t feel comply to mention about how her recoverability was not more than 50%, since she still have difficulty in speech—
Wait, she didn’t.
Weird, she had been able to compose complete, perfectly normal sentences like a typical human being without squirming for mercy.
Maybe it was due to her victory over Widad. Never had she seen her so helpless by a human’s presence before, prompting Widad to beg for shelter at the opulent car.
It must have something to do with the baffling arrival of Ikhwan’s brother. Or the stupid Pandora box. She can’t even feel the rattling box anymore.
No. It must be the former.
“Who’s your brother?” she asked, and realized that the inquiry wasn’t as remotely nonchalant as she hoped it would be.
The box. Oh, it was certainly the box. No wonder she can’t feel the rattling; it’d been widely open.
How could that be?!
He looked at her quizzically.
She stilled.
And then she remembered her previous question.
“It seems like my cousin knows him,” she added in a deli
berately thoughtful manner.
“Oh,” something clicked in his mind perhaps, “He looks like he knows her too.”
“Exactly,” she snapped her fingers, “Who is he?”
“My brother Danial,” he shrugged, “Is just a college student.”
“Danial.”
“Yes,” he roamed his eyes over the attendants, “Who’s your cousin?”
“My cousin Widad,” she shrugged, “Is just a college student.”
“Widad.”
“Yeah,” she grinned. “Frankly, it’s none of my business, but she is quite weird…”
Nadirah went into a deep thought, measuring the level of weirdness of her cousin, comparing to her own weirdness, taking account of her other cousins’ weirdness, because no doubt, they were a couple of weird humans to roam the earth, pretending to be normal, and she pondered over the possibility that their grandmother was the core of their weirdness—
“My brother is weird as well.”
“Pardon?” she spluttered at his sudden outburst.
“I think everyone is weird in their own ways. I should have rephrased it to unique, but weird is possibly more accurate,” he clamped his teeth. “Some are outright weird, some are more subtle, some are conveniently hidden,” he exhaled a sharp breath, “Depends on your perspective of weirdness.”
Nadirah said nothing, but she felt oddly blithe over the fact that her weirdness could pass up as unique.
“I am weird,” he continued, “But I try to not announce that to the whole world.”
She scoffed, blatantly remarked, “I do try to not announce that to the world, but that is not possible.”
“That can’t be true.”
“Surely you think I’m weird?”
His face was pained as he replied, “No, not at all.”
“Well,” she stared at him pityingly, “Someday you’ll know.”
“Know what, exactly?”
Her eyes fell onto her plate. “That I’m going to eat.”
“Someday I’ll know that you’re going to eat?” he snorted, a faint chuckle escaped from his lungs.
She tilted her head side by side, ascertaining for the perfect reply, but gave up and just answered, “Precisely.”
“Okay,” he sighed disbelievingly, “You are weird.”
“Good,” said she, stuffing her mouth with food to emphasis her weirdness, which further made him having difficulty in suppressing his laughter.
“I’ll say,” she swallowed, “You always know the right thing to say.”
He looked genuinely startled, but quickly hid it with a small smile. “I get that a lot.”
“That is nice,” she said seriously, “Minimum chances of you getting an enemy.”
For a while, he said nothing, but then he sighed sharply and replied, “I hope so.”
“Why?” Nadirah’s voice was muffled over the stuffed mouth, “Are you anticipating for an enemy?”
He snorted again. “Not really, well, like you said, it’s not as if I know what it feels to have an enemy—”
“But you were saying—”
“Life is not that short, not that long,” he let out a heartfelt sigh, “Mysteriously enigmatical.”
“Yeah,” she stared at him incredulously, “You really know the right words to say.”
He smacked his lips, barely containing his mirth. “No, I’m struggling to be one, can’t you tell?”
“No.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You are very straight-forward.”
“I am struggling to be one, you see.”
“I find that very hard to believe, but anyways, you have succeeded.”
“In front of you, yes, but in front of—”
“Ikhwan.”
Suddenly, the box shut close.
Nadirah swallowed hardly at the distressed sound in the voice, but as she met the eyes of the voice-bearer, any trace of distress on his face faded away in an instant, replaced by a softened expression. “Assalamualaikum,” his voice was gentler as well, “Friend of my brother?”
If it weren’t for her naturally blank look, it would’ve been quite a phenomenal sight to see her gaping over Widad’s supposedly archenemy, who was quite a charming lad.
“W-waalaikummussalam, uh…” she exchanged glances with Ikhwan, resisting the urge of saying that his brother looked better upfront than from far away. And he didn’t resemble Medusa in any way either. Well, it was not as if she saw Medusa before, because, if she did, surely she won’t survive? Thus her only reply was, “Uh…yeah.”
“I’m Danial, Ikhwan’s brother.”
His manners were impeccable and dangerously suave that Nadirah pondered over the true reason behind Widad’s extreme intimidation.
Maybe that was it; he looked terrifyingly intimidating.
It might have taken quite a few minutes for Nadirah to do her once-over on the charming lad, because she didn’t realize the painful silent between the three of them until Ikhwan decided to intervene, “Her name is Nadirah.”
“Oh-h,” she answered in realization, forgetting that she had yet to introduce herself, for all she could think of at that time was Medusa, “Yes, my n-name is…uh.”
Danial stared at her deeply, probably curious for her odd behavior. Little did he know that his penetrating gaze did nothing to sooth her trembling words.
“N-Nadirah.”
“Nnadirah.”
“No,” she lashed out quickly, “Nadirah.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Nadirah,” he smiled politely. “Although, quite an odd sight to see a girl like you all alone at a function, saves for my brother.”
“She comes with her cousin,” said Ikhwan.
“Cousin?” Danial raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. “Where is she?”
“She’s…,” Nadirah bit her lips, “She’s,” she swallowed the useless words, and spluttered, “N-not well.”
“I noticed that,” he nodded. “I saw both of you outside, and your cousin did look quite…green.”
She liked to say that the greenness of Widad’s face was definitely caused by his very own grand appearance, but she just replied, “Ah.”
“Widad, isn’t it? I think I know her.”
She liked to say that she was not blind in recognizing the intensity of their relationship, which was definitely not just a mere acquaintance, but she just replied, “Oh.”
He curled his lips mischievously.
Nadirah wasn’t sure whether he could read her mind or was he indulging in his own thoughts, but her assumptions were quickly scratched from her mind as he said, “If you don’t mind me, I’d like to borrow my brother for a while.”
“B-borrow?”
His choice of word dumbstruck Nadirah, for what was there to borrow? She for sure didn’t claim full ownership of Ikhwan in the first place, and Danial might as well snatch him right there, right then. It wasn’t as if she had the power to make him stay anyway.
Nevertheless, she perfectly understood that Danial was being polite, and polite should be returned with equal politeness, so she tried to concoct a plausible excuse, anything satisfactory that’ll put his mind at ease. Unfortunately, she failed, so she tried to buy some time by slowly constructing her words, hoping that the idea would miraculously popped out, “S-sure. I,” she gulped, ascertaining her next words, “Need,” she roamed the room discreetly with her eyes, “To use,” she licked her lips, “The,” she was getting desperate, but thankfully, a piercing ringtone struck her ears, “Phone,” she finally said, quite out of breath.
“I’m sure you do,” said Danial quizzically. “Your phone is ringing.”
“Yeah,” she cleared her throat, “I’ll,” she stepped back, smiling nervously, “Take this.”
Ikhwan looked at her in concern, bewildered at her sudden change in personality. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” she gasped, quickly moving away from their view.
Even if she wasn’t fine, a legible doctor was available here for their aid.
>
She truly hoped that it wouldn’t come to that. She had enough embarrassment for one day, and perhaps another was on the way, judging by her agitated phone. She didn’t need to peer at her screen to know that it wasn’t a ringtone for an incoming call, but instead, a ringtone for her messaging system. Still, she was thankful for that. At least she had successfully escaped from the dragon’s lair.
She pressed the button with her finger, skimming the message lazily.
Have you read Ty’s new entry yet??!!
Nadirah had no idea which entry Arina was referring to, but since Arina was basically glued to the computer screen almost all the time, then maybe this particular entry was posted just seconds ago.
She pressed the button expertly, composing a reply to Arina.
No, I’m out. Why?
Seconds later, a new message popped in.
You know that celebrity who lost his precious thing? His fans filed a police report but he canceled it! The fans are furious. Do you know who he is??!! OH I’M DYING HERE!
Nadirah sighed, her fingers maniacally pressing the soft keypad.
He’s old, that is all.
That ought to do the trick.
Old? Oh. Okay. Fine, then.
That did the trick.
She flipped her phone close, slowly returning to her original spot, but as she became nearer, she couldn’t help but overhear the brothers’ conversation.
“Danial, I assure you that I’ve done exactly what you’ve told me to,” Ikhwan lowered his voice. “Really.”
“Really?”
“It’s about time that you place your faith in me.”
There was a short pause, before Danial started whispering, “I’ve always believed in you.”
“Well, maybe you should increase it a lot more then,” Ikhwan patted his brother’s back, “You don’t look too well, anxious, huh?”
Danial cleared his throat. “Well—”
“Why don’t you clear up your mind, sort out your problem—”
Danial stared at Ikhwan suspiciously, before sagely replying, “I guess so.”
“I still have some matter to discuss with Nadirah.”
“I see,” he raised his eyebrows, “I better not intrude.”
“But if you insist—”
“No, don’t worry,” Danial smiled. “It’s a private matter after all. It can wait.” He was about to leave, when his eyes abruptly flew toward Nadirah, or maybe it flew right across Nadirah, she wouldn’t know, “I just need to…” he sighed. “Do something.”
“Okay,” Ikhwan said jovially. “Have fun.”
“Not fun, I’d think,” he murmured gravely, but he gave her a warm smile, before disappearing into the crowd.
“You are a smooth-talker,” Nadirah sneered playfully.
He grinned. “And you’re not.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that,” she muttered in annoyance, “Your brother is—”
“Also a smooth-talker, defiantly better, but not as persuasive.”
She studied his face incredulously. He just took the exact words from her brain.
“Exactly,” she blinked, and stared forward again. “He’s like the current generation devil-may-care.”
“He’s a weirdo, and that’s his exact weird point.”
“I don’t think I understand,” admitted Nadirah truthfully, “And I don’t think a few minutes worth of idle chattering fares a lot to me in understanding him.”
“Not,” he smacked his lips, boiling with mirth most probably, “When it include several painful pauses and stuttering.”
“Not,” she narrowed her eyes, “That I can help it.”
“Not,” he grinned devilishly, “That I know of.”
She scowled distastefully. “Since when have you turned hateful?”
“Ah,” he looked at her smugly, “I am someone…who say the right thing all the time?”
“Almost.”
“Almost,” he echoed. “So big chance that I—”
“Say the right thing.”
“Exactly.”
“Of course,” she muttered.
He laughed. “People are such open books.”
“And I’m halfway open.”
“What makes you say that?”
Out of a sudden, she felt triumphant. “You can’t read me entirely, can’t you?”
“Why yes,” he clamped his teeth. “I do have some difficulty in that.”
She smiled haughtily, concentrating on her plate.
Ikhwan didn’t appear as if he wanted to let the matter rest however, and it was apparent in his tone as he said, “I don’t think I’ve mentioned that,” he arched his brows. “How do you know?”
“Well,” she couldn’t possibly confess out-front that she could rewind his speeches, but maybe in this situation, it wouldn’t sound terribly out of place.
“No, I’m struggling to be one, can’t you tell?”
“You were struggling to say the right words to me,” she said proudly.
He scoffed disbelievingly. “You have great memory.”
“Always did,” her grin grew wider, “One of my special trait, if I may say so myself.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
“About my special trait?”
“No,” he laughed bleakly, “About my weakness.”
“Your weakness being—”
“Look,” he quickly cut off, “Your cousin is here.”
She swiveled her head, and sure enough, her cousin was striding proudly amidst the guest, gracious like a precious peacock, before finally landing just in front of them with that sickly smile of hers.
“You,” Nadirah stared down at her, “Here. Why?”
“What?” Widad asked incredulously. “I was invited.”
“I thought you—”
“Change my mind,” her eyes roamed across the room, and in a slight miniscule moment, Nadirah thought that she saw the fall of Widad’s smile. But Widad braced herself quickly, smiling broader than before, “Or not.” Her attention shifted to Ikhwan as she mechanically said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you I’m sure, but she couldn’t lounge here any longer.”
“He’s not,” Nadirah lowered her eyes, “The host.”
“I know that,” she hissed.
“Nice to meet you too,” Ikhwan returned her smile. Then he faced Nadirah, politely smiling, “Well, I hope I’ll see you again.”
Nadirah was about to say the same thing, but her hand was suddenly tugged by a loud force, scurrying her out of the house.
“Relax,” said Nadirah. “You don’t want,” she took a deep breath, “More wrinkles.”
“I don’t have any wrinkles!” she snapped.
“You will,” she exhaled her breath, “If you keep,” she tried to match up with Widad’s pace and not being led like a cow, “In a bad mood.”
“I am not,” she said distressfully, “I just don’t—” she pursed her lips, continuing slowly, “Feel good.”
To that, Nadirah didn’t feel the need of wasting her energy for a comforting reply, since comforting reply didn’t sit too well with Widad. Thus, she opted to stay in silence and relished in the solitude as she was dragged by the cranky witch into her broomstick, which actually resembled a car…
It was a car.
“So who was that? A friend of yours?” Widad was much composed now, firing the engine away and dashed into the busy streets.
“Yeah,” Nadirah glanced at her, and decided that she might have the upper hand in prickling her annoyance, “Ikhwan. I also met her brother, Danial.”
Widad choked.
Nadirah hid a devilish smile.
The box rattled.
“That’s his brother?”
She deliberately answered in a voice full of ignorance, “Yeah, his brother’s name is Danial.”
“Oh,” Widad cleared her throat, summoning her supercilious self, “Of course.”
Nadirah wasn’t going to let the opportunity slid from her fingers. This was too
good to ignore. “He said he knows you.”
Widad tapped her fingers impatiently at the steering. “Your friend?”
“He too.”
“He too?” she asked wearily.
“Ikhwan said he saw you, Danial said he knows you.”
Nadirah had the wildest thought that Widad would turn into a stone right this second and thus unable to control the steering.
Thankfully, she was still alive, because she tried to respond nonchalantly, “Is that so?”
“Yes,” she answered. Despite the fact that she knew how her life was in Widad’s perfectly manicured hands, she couldn’t resist but to poke in the fun. “Danial said he saw you outside, and commented on how you look quite green. He also said that he thinks he knows you.”
Nadirah gaped at herself, secretly clapping at her vast improvement in speech.
Widad didn’t seem to notice, however.
She clutched the steering a bit too tightly with her white knuckles, probably having difficulty with breathing if one were to judge by her sudden purplish face. She glimpsed sharply at Nadirah, coarsely said, “Listen, Nadirah.”
Nadirah could tell that Widad was unleashing her little charm, and so she indulged in the leather seat and let the sickly sensation caressed her muscles.
“You will not mention this to anyone.”
Nadirah nodded.
“Not to Zahari.”
“Not to Zahari,” she echoed.
“Not to the stupid twins.”
“Not to them.”
“Especially not to Arina!”
“Not to any of them.”
“And Ikhwan! Definitely not.”
“Not to the brother as well.”
“Yes,” she gritted her teeth. “Don’t ever tell him that I told you this.”
“Sure,” the effect of the charm had worn down, and so Nadirah added, “I don’t know him anyway.”
“Of course you do,” Widad stared at her incredulously. “He’s your friend.”
“His brother is my friend—”
“Danial is your friend?”
Nadirah realized how the whole affair had turned Widad ridiculously agitated, prompting them to have a missed communication, which was beyond absurd, considering their reputation. “No, Ikhwan is my friend.”
Widad let out a sharp breath, her face changed its color again to plain pale.
She did look quite pitiful, so Nadirah said slowly, “I will not ask.”
“Thank you,” her voice was raspy, relieved by Nadirah’s lack of concern.
They didn’t exchange a single word all the way back home, and as they entered the house and received much exclamation from their parents on their early return, Nadirah swiftly excused herself, claiming that she had much work to do in preparation for the trip.
She didn’t, of course, but the errand for xyru suddenly looked far appealing than answering typical questions from her parents with odd concoctions.
She very much wanted to say that they left early because they met Medusa, but that was not believable.
They were still alive, weren’t they?
And that way why she sat on her stool, opening a browser in her laptop and keying the address of her cherished site.
A new message popped in, notifying that she had a new personal message. Undoubtedly, it would be from xyru, so she clicked the button, watching as the screen automatically flashed into a new window.
She skimmed the message, and after mentally noted the gist, she opened yet another browser and key in the email address, absentmindedly signing up with the given password.
Nadirah couldn’t help but gape at the outrageous amount of emails in his inbox.
She wasn’t sure if the inbox had its own spring-cleaning lately, but surely, not all of these mails were from his column alone?
Yet as she skimmed the first page, the subject did mention about the whole Metamorphosis issue, and so, adamantly certain, she clicked the last page and began to copy the ten emails into her laptop.
As soon as she’d done just that, she closed the useless browsers and started to concentrate on the given task.
Just one brief look at the first mail’s subject, Nadirah decided to skip the content thoroughly due to the obvious confession of a happy-ever-after marriage.
It was not as if a kid like herself would understand the joyous transformation from a bachelorette to a housewife.
Nevertheless, the most obvious reply for a confession of heaven would be; Thank you for sharing your story, we hope we could experience the glorifying sensation one day in our life, and may your life continue to live in its glorious form.
What else was there to say?
The second mail nagged about her inability of transforming into a butterfly, while the third mail exasperated on her inability of remaining as a worm.
Living in denial was no strange issue to Nadirah’s ears, since she was undeniably in denial herself, but in this situation, positive words were needed, and so she replied, life is not too short, life is not too long, so embrace for what you are, and try to live your life to the fullest.
Somehow, she was thankful that she met the righteous Ikhwan.
The fourth email had quite an odd subject. Nadirah was definitely intrigued by the sheer absurdity of the words.
The sparkling butterfly has yet to be seen.
Yes, and that was why she had yet to follow the invisible butterfly.
Anyways, the subject wasn’t exclusively talking about the problem. One would think that judging by the subject alone, surely, it would discuss the fact that the mailer’s life was stuck in a high tower, waiting for her prince charming to rescue her, or better, for her own ability to flourish and save herself from the solitary confinement, but alas, it has not happen…
It could be something to that extent, yet the mail was too bizarre to understand.
Where is the sparkling butterfly? My hands are still bare, my eyes are clouding with illusion, over the slight memory of the sparkling butterfly.
For years, the snatching thief had captivated the butterfly. For years, I have waited for the butterfly to flutter her wings towards my lap. But where is it now, why must they torture me so? I don’t appreciate prevarication, my dear grandson, so do what you must, but once it has safely kept in your possession, return it to me at once.
Do it wisely, and I’ll be sure to release you from my wrath.
She wasn’t exactly sure as to how the message was meant to be digested.
She sat rigidly on her stool, ascertaining the probability of her intruding a personal mail.
Probably not. After all, she wasn’t the one at fault. She had been given the permission to trespass someone’s private mail, and that was why she thought it would be best to tell xyru about her shameful encounter with the apparently private message.
However, she was certain that no matter how jovial xyru was, the fire in him would at least flicker in belligerence over the unprofessionalism displayed by the two of them.
Truthfully, Nadirah didn’t feel as if it’d be such a big deal if the mail didn’t mention the word possession, wrath and grandson. But it did.
Especially possession, whatever it meant.
Yet, if she didn’t tell him, she would forever live in guilt.
The least he could do was to avoid her entirely, which didn’t sound remotely caustic, considering how it would only happen in the virtual world that was filled with imaginary people and faceless names instead of the real world with real identities and real emotions.
Tell or not tell, both of them were guilt-inducing.
Truth to be told, she didn’t know why she cared so much, since it was thoroughly not her fault. If he asked, then she might as well fibbed on how she saw it, skimmed it, realized it was a private mail, ignored it, and forgot about it.
The mail was located on the farthest page in his inbox, so if it was something important, then Nadirah would like to believe that he already knew about the bad news. You couldn’t
rely entirely on emails nowadays, could you? Grandmothers ever so often summoned their minions, and Nadirah knew it too well on how true it was, because her own grandmother was a great example to the mighty finger of doom.
Granted, the fact that her grandmother was often true to her words may add to the factor, but she was certain that grandmothers in general didn’t have much patience in waiting for an email reply.
Still, it didn’t feel right.
Nadirah opened the browser and entered the site’s address, reluctantly composed a new message to xyru.
I’ve included an attachment of my replies for your mails.
There’s only nine, not ten, since one of the mails is quite confusing.
Perhaps you should check it out yourself so that you would know the right way to handle such a situation.
Anyway, hope you like my advices.
And yes, I do have common sense. Thanks for enlightening me.
Nadirah closed every applicant, and proceeded to lie on the bed.
It wouldn’t matter.
Internet life never mattered as much as real-life. You can always create a new identity if your previous one was about to crumble. You can never do that in real life.
Either way, he might live in the other side of the world…or not.
She didn’t know him anyways…or not.
Nevertheless, she had no idea.
Still, there was no reason for him to track her down.
chapter 3