Don't Forget Me (48)

Me: Sure?

I typed.

Zaid: Could you come over to the kid fair later today?

What?

Me: The kid fair?

Zaid: Yes, my sister's organizing it with a couple of her friends. It's in shaab park and I'd really like it if you would come, and also I'd like to apologize in person. 

That was...sudden. Plus we were fighting a couple of minutes ago.

Me: Zaid I can't leave the house after tonight, and I don't think your sister would want me there. 

Zaid: I don't care what she thinks. 

Me: Why do you want me to be there so badly?;p

Zaid: Because I'll be around kids from morning to nighttime and I hate kids. 

Me: That's serious. 

Zaid: I shouldn't be around sharp objects. 

Me: Very serious. 

Zaid: You could be saving a life, or ten. 

I couldn't help not to laugh.

Me: I don't think I can guarantee it though. The going to the carnival part, not the saving lives part. 

Zaid: Sure. Anyway goodnight. I should be up in three hours. 

Me: Ah, going to see kids while sleep deprived too?

Zaid: It's my lucky day.

Me: Well good night then. 

Zaid: Good night. 

/

"Barou7 3nd yaditich," my mother said as she peeked inside my room to talk to me. I guessed she missed talking to me, and even though I sent her a lot of apologetic texts she still wouldn't reply.

 "Okay salmay 3alaihum. Ana bag3ad adris," I told her. It was almost 4 PM, oo I woke up like an hour ago. Badda3t bl noma.

I opened up my books but I wasn't feeling it. It was one of these days where your mind was all over the place that you couldn't actually study even if your life depended on it.

I opened my phone, which I was still surprised my mom allowed me to use.

Me: How's the carnival?

I contemplated going, but what he had said at 5 AM really confused me, what was his deal? I really wanted to see him again, so I bit my lip in contemplation and got dressed. I was very stupid, I admit, but I had nothing to lose, but I had a lot to gain if I did go.

I changed into a pair of black leggings and a long white shirt with accessories; I kept it simple since it was a carnival, a kid's one to be precise. I got into the car and drove to Shaab park. The parking was so full that I had to park fog ilra9eef. I saw Zaid's Bentley at the entrance of the park, he must've been there very early.

I entered the park, free of charge, then went to the carnival, which consisted of booths lined up at the entrance and all around the park along with lights suspended between the booths to give it that "carnival" feel. I looked around for Zaid but I couldn't find him so I checked my phone; he still hadn't seen the message.

"Asfa bas t3arfeen wain Zaid?" I asked a teenage girl who was a volunteer.

"Zaid Al-M?" she asked me and I nodded.

"Umm chini shfta 3nd 9ob il9a7an," she said. I thanked her and began to walk to il9a7an, keeping an eye out for Zaina and for Zaid, and a close eye on my phone as well in case my mom or Zaid called.

I finally saw Zaid as he was hanging a sign on a pole. He was wearing jeans and a white polo shirt and a jacket, of course there was no need for me to say that he pulled off whatever it was he wore. I almost backed away but instead I gathered up all my strength and walked to him.

"Hey," I said.

"Niyah, yeetay," he said while smiling, surprised.

"The things I do to save kids," I told him, and he chuckled.

"Shlona?" he asked as he looked around.

"Fa'6ee3 mashallah," I told him and he smiled.

"Sharabt gahwa?" I asked him.

"Glibat chabdi," he said. "Mashkoura inich yeetay," he added.

I shrugged. "Il3afu."

"Oo awal shay gabl la nabdi bas widi agoulich asif 3ala ili glta. Wallah kint 7mar madri shafaker fee w ana aktib ilmessage. Please sam7eeni wallah adri maloumich itha ma sama7teeni bas..." he ended his sentence with a shrug.

"Zaid it's fine," I said. Although I was still annoyed at the message.

"Ma9adgich bas ba7awil feech," he said with a chuckle and I just looked away.

"Niyah, asif," he repeated, sternly this time.

I didn't reply.

"If it makes you feel better tara 7ta ana 3ndi issues ma3ah," he said. I looked at him. He never told me that.

"Na3am?" I said.

"Gltlich 3ndi mashakil ma3ah," he repeated.

I cocked my brow.

"Ma gltli mn gabl," I said.

"Ista7ait agoulich," he said. I looked at the floor.

"Shinu the issues?" I asked him. He knew the issues between me and my dad, so it would make sense for him to tell me. He took a deep breath.

"Kl hama ukhwani oo ana wala chini mawjoud.  Mat'himni ilflous, bas ukhwani 3nda shay w ana ma ylageeni wayh, ya3ni china ana balwa 3nda, madri. 7awalt akalma bas kila ygouli a9ik ilmaw'6ou3 oo ga3d atdala3 oo madri shinu," he said.

"Nafs ubouy," I told him as I nodded in understanding.

"Bl thab6," he said.

I felt bad for him now, because I knew exactly what it was like to be ignored by your own father, and it really hurt. I didn't really blame him if he went over the edge, especially with his mother gone and other household problems he had kept away from me.

"Um fa tabeeni a36eech tour?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yallah," I said.

"Yallah," he repeated with a wink, hinting at our catchphrase. Only he thought of it as something and I thought of it as something else.

***

Yallah two-post Monday 3ashankum;p
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