I rested my head in my hands, leaning my forehead forward to rest against the small, cold bedroom window. My eyes were transfixed upon a goose against the dusky clouds, flapping its wings furiously against the rain that effortlessly worked to heave it towards the puddly grounds.
“You can do it,” I whispered under my breath. “Keep flapping.”
The rain did not cease, nor did the goose, but the goose didn’t move forward either. It was a static, gloomy scene. I broke away from the window, running my fingers through my hair, to realize that my bedroom had grown considerably dark. I walked to the light switch and flicked it on and off with no success.
“Mother, did the lights go off again?” I proceeded down the creaking stairs. “How am I to grade essays when there are no lights?”
Mother was sitting on her old, wooden chair, slowly hand-kneading dough for dinner. Ali sat beside her on the table cutting his toe nails. My mother looked up from her work with soft eyes.
“The generator,” my mother said under heavy breaths. “It’s behind my mattress in the room.” She paused for a second. “I’ll get it for you-”
“No need,” I sighed, “I’m going to Aarif’s house. I might be late for dinner.”
I swung around and opened the slate of wood which we had the audacity to call a door. I stood outside while buttoning my coat, then hopped onto my bike away from the slums I called home.
Mother came at the door behind me, “Son, take an umbrella!” But I had already passed over the crosswalk and was racing towards- towards what? A blinding light crossed the sky and I lost my balance for a second. Towards someplace the sun shone. The wind pushed me forward and I stared straight ahead, ignoring the dilapidated buildings that slouched over me, as though cowering against the weather.
I reached Aarif’s. The rain was slow in this part of the city. My clothes were drenched, but at this moment, it didn’t matter. For years, Aarif’s house was my comfort place, with every book of his immersing me in worlds that I longed to explore. I climbed up the sturdy, newly-painted stairs and knocked on the door.
The door opened, and I was greeted by a warm, embracing hug from Aarif, “Haider! Come in.”
“I was going so fast on my bike, I almost passed your house. A few more miles, and I would have ended up in Istanbul, eh?” I chuckled.
“Yeah, that’d be a nightmare wouldn’t it?”
“What, why?” I refuted, “it’s a prosperous city. You yourself told me that Istanbul University’s library has perpetual rows of fascinating books that one can spend a lifetime exploring.”
“Did I say fascinating books? I must have meant isolating. I know, you’re going to argue with me until the sun goes down, but I’m going to stick by my claim. University does not guarantee you the brightest future.”
“You’re ridiculous” I said, sweeping the dust off the cover of one of his books, “I’d do anything to attend university, even if it meant getting run over by a car, ya know? I’d jump right onto the street if that’s what it took.”
“Well, it would be cool, the sight of a corpse attending a lecture on Shakespeare,” he laughed. He looked up at me, and his eyes widened and his smile narrowed, as though he’d just fully comprehended the truth of my conviction. The rain outside slowed almost to a complete stop, a faint pitter-patter only the sharpest of ears could hear. He put his arm around my shoulder.
“You finally are going there, aren’t you?” He asked smiling.
The corners of my lips rose, “5:45, tomorrow afternoon.”
I stood up poised and gently placed the book in the shelf, as though I was preparing to leave at any second.
It was almost midnight when I arrived home. Mother was sitting at the table, fighting the urge to sleep, when she stood and began walking towards me as I entered the house.
“Oh Haider,” she lowered my head with her frail hands, slowly planting a kiss on my cold forehead, “I’m glad you’re home safe.”
“You don’t always have to wait for me Mother,” I spoke, “I’m a responsible person.”
“Oh I know you are, my son,” mother coughed, “You take such good care of your brother and I. I just worry.”
I slowly led my mother to the couch and seated her.
She continued speaking, “We need you to be here, with us, son. I speak in more than just financial terms.”
I looked away, pretending to have seen something outside the window. I walked over and reached out my index finger to touch the algid window pane. The cold sensation began to spread from my finger to the rest of my hand, and I jolted awake. I pulled my hand away and into my jean pocket for warmth, where my pencil rested.
“I’m going to go to sleep,” I muttered. I could feel my Mother’s gaze upon me, but I did not look at her. I walked towards the stairs, when I spotted a wooden bucket of rainwater glaring at me from the kitchen. It must have been the rain dripping from the ceiling.
“Yes, please put the bucket of water outside,” Mother said, looking in my direction. I trudged myself towards it and pulled it up. It had a hefty weight, but thank goodness I was strong. I bet Istanbul University doesn’t have leaking ceilings, I thought to myself and smiled.
It was raining again, but with more intensity than yesterday. The dark clouds shrouded the city, enclosing every part of the sky that could bring the town a sight of the warm, cheerful sun. I was walking home from the a long day of tutoring children, my tie nearly choking me and my drenched suit clinging to my body. I looked down on my cracked watch: 5:22. Nearly twenty more minutes until my travel to Istanbul would commence, where I’d live as a post-secondary student, not as a son. Where my obligations would solely be limited to studying, doing what I love. I reached my home and loosened my tie.
“Mother, I’m home. I just need to collect my suitcases and- MOTHER,” I ran towards the kitchen floor. She was lying idle on the ground, with her eyes barely blinking and her hands gone cold.
“Mother,” I repeated horrified, lifting her frail, light body onto the couch. She was alive. She was alive.
“Ali, go call the Doctor, quick!” I shrieked at my brother, who was jumping outside in the puddles. He ran towards the other side of the block, doing as he was told. I ran back inside, collecting blankets to warm my Mother in. I gently put the blankets on her, then paused to take a long look at her. Her face had grown so skinny and from the last time I noticed, the lines on her face had grown deeper. I held her hands. The once warm hands had become gilid, and the same sensation crossed my body as when I had touched the window pane last night. But this time, I did not pull my hand away. The rain was beating against the ceiling and window, trying to force it’s way through the house. She needs me, I convinced myself. She opened her eyes to look at me and softly smiled, as though she had read my thought.
The bucket was collecting rainwater again. I stood up, walking to the kitchen and carrying the bucket outside to empty it before the water reached the rim and overflowed. I put the bucket down outside, and strained my neck to see if I could spot Ali and the Doctor running in from across the block. There was no sight of them yet. I was turning around to return to my Mother when I spotted the red bus that was waiting for me to step aboard- waiting to take me to the place I dreamed of since I was a child: university. I turned around to face the bus; the red hue of the bus contrasted the grey, despondent atmosphere of all that surrounded me, and the rain drops just repelled off the bus, neither denting it nor weighing down upon it. My tie was heavy with the water, weighing down on my neck as though it was trying to pull me into submission. My wet fingers fumbled, trying to take off the tie or pull it over my head, but it was too tight. It was choking me, but at least I could still breathe. I grunted and threw it over my shoulder. I glanced down on my watch, 5:44. I still had the opportunity to leave. There, I would have no obligations, no responsibilities, just piles of incredible books and long nights with them; I ravished and beamed at the idea. I just had to walk across the street. Ali could take care of Mother, right? The Doctor would be here soon too, I thought to myself. I took a deep breath of the crisp, refreshing air, and stepped towards the crosswalk, the crosswalk that stood between the bus and I, when a honking car sped past me and I hurdled backwards into a deep, muddy puddle. I laid on my back, unable to collect the strength I needed to stand up again. I rested my head on the cold, stoned sidewalk, looking up at the sky to see if I could spot the goose that I had seen a few days ago, struggling against the force of the rain that pushed it towards the puddled grounds. It was no longer there. When I got up from the sidewalk, neither was the red bus.
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