Wilted Lilacs

Gauhar's POV

Life seemed to have an uncanny way of putting me in situations I despised and enduring places that I couldn't bear to stay in. Maybe it enjoyed how I struggled to keep my head up and how I refused to give up even when something felt impossible to conquer. 

I had a feeling that it would be hilarious to an onlooker, a pathetic and futile display of determination, like a dying fish jumping fervently to get back inside water even when death is destined.

A bitter smile graced my features as I marvelled at the visceral reaction of repulsion and dislike this place incited within me. It was pretty hilarious to think that despite my discomfort I frequented it a lot more than I did at my house these days.

The utter silence and shadow of death that gripped the walls of the hospital instilled a strange fear within me, a fear that I couldn't quite put my finger on. But the unsettling feeling that was lodged in my chest refused to dissipate.

It made me feel helpless and weak. But then I guess every man was weak in the face of death and that gave me a little bit of reassurance that I wasn't as big of a ninny as I thought myself to be.

I took a deep breath, the sharp smell of alcohol and despair burning my trachea and leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

I pushed my hands in my pocket, my fingers brushing against the cold wrapper of the candy Natalie had given me in the afternoon and the delicate petals of the lilac that had most likely wilted by now. I took it out of my pocket, remembering that she wanted me to give these to my father. 

These little trinkets from an innocent girl held more warmth than the electric heaters that warmed these stark walls. And the burned like a talisman against my thigh, filling me with strength and maybe a bit of optimism.

I smiled to myself as I made my way towards his room, my heart wrenching painfully as I remembered the words and emotions behind those flowers. I knew my father would love these flowers, no matter the slight browning of the once bright purple petals and the sad droop of its stem.

"Gauhar! Ah you're here." the familiar voice of my mother made me stop in my tracks. I felt a cold sense of dread wash over me, instantly dousing the warm feelings swirling within me moments ago. 

I nearly chuckled to myself as I thought of the fact that hers was  a voice that was  supposed to be comforting to me, a voice that gave me strength and healed my wounds. But the cold that I felt wrap it's wispy fingers around me was testimony to the fact that that was not the case.

I felt empty within as I realised that I had forgotten when it had stopped being that way to me.

It made me let out  loud a hollow laugh, the sound echoing across the sterile lifeless walls and most likely confirming my mother's suspicions of my insanity.

"Gauhar ! Gauhar do come here will you?" The urgency in her voice bordered on desperation and spurred my steps in her direction.

There seemed to be something that was troubling her and despite everything I couldn't let her be. 

"Yes Mama, I'm here." I affirmed, smiling at her expression of relief. It wasn't often that my presence elicited any positive emotions in her and watching her smile at me caused a violent burst of warmth within me.

Suddenly the dreary whiteness of the hospital didn't seem half bad, maybe I was just exaggerating it's unpleasantness.

I was surprised I had overlooked her on my way here. She was seated on one of the hard grey metal waiting chairs, her mustard yellow hijab loosely thrown around her head, her flowy olive green dress surprisingly complimenting it.

Another thing I couldn't quite imitate her in, her effortlessly stylish way of dressing.

 Another thing I let her down for.

"Where were you heading?" her tone expressed confusion and… maybe a little bit of disappointment. 

As if she were asking me 'where were you going to leave me here? Did you not notice me?' 

I shook my head to rid myself of those wayward thoughts, I am sure I was imagining that. It was difficult to remind myself to not get ahead of myself and build castles out of smoke and false beliefs, but seeing the way her eyebrows were furrowed and her warm brown eyes were raised towards me in question, I couldn't help but let my heart wish and hope.

'ha hope' my reason sniggered at my delusions 'stop imagining things Gauhar, she was just alone here and as her daughter it's your duty to keep her company. Don't read into it more than you should and hurt yourself all over again.' It was only good that my reason caught me in time and slapped the brutal reality to my face.

Really what was I thinking?

"To check up on Baba." I pointed towards the doors that held the patients, barely stopping myself from adding a 'duh' in the end.

 I winced to myself as I realised that my tone betrayed my impatience. But the damage was done, mother's lips had formed a thin line as she nodded at me, she understood that I didn't want to be with her at all.

That was just as well in my opinion, she deserved to know how I truly felt.

"I suggest you don't go in there right now….I- I would rather you stay here for some time." Although her face was hard and didn't show any vulnerability, I could sense the emotion in the slight quiver of her voice.

To a stranger she would appear to be extremely composed, her face an impeccable mask of strength. But I could see my fears mirrored in her eyes, I couldn't imagine how she could act as composed as she was, but I respected her for that.

Another thing I failed to inherit from her, her stoic mask. I on the other hand was incapable of hiding the smallest of emotions from my face... I despised it.

It was because of her strength that we were able to brave this situation without breaking down. But I realised now that she needed some support, and I would gladly stay with her for that.

At least I could do that much for her.

I took the empty seat beside her, the cold metal biting my butt through my jeans. I turned towards my mother, studying the lines of her face that still looked as beautiful as it was when I was younger, the fine lines around her face, betraying her age and signifying what she had been through.

The silence between us was heavy with unspoken words, and I was afraid of the time when we would have to voice them out loud. For now we were  comfortable letting them fester between us in silence and I liked it that way. My eyes followed her line of sight, although her eyes were focussed on the doors lining the wall in front of us, I could see that she was seeing something that none of us could.

"Mama?" I ventured, causing her to start a little upon the intrusion of my voice. She turned towards me, her eyes questioning.

"Are you…" I looked down at the slightly wilted lilacs in my hand "Aren't you scared?" I felt something stuck in my throat as I looked at her confused face.

I felt as if she were asking me 'fear pffft what was that? And how dare you presume I feel something as weak as that?'.

Her expression of confusion quickly vanished as she looked into my eyes. Her face turned dark as realisation dawned on her, it didn't require me to give her any explanation about my question. She swallowed thickly, her hands going over her head to smooth her hijab.

As I saw a darkness spread onto her eyes, I felt a sinking feeling in my chest. I sighed dejectedly as I twirled the little lilacs in my fingers.

"Yes I am."

I felt my heart break.

The words were barely audible but I caught them, my heart shattering as I realised just how difficult it was for her to admit that. I reached out to place my hand on hers, which rested on the armrest between us.

My hand touched the slightly warm metal, as she abruptly pulled her hand away. Clearing her throat, she placed them on her lap. 

I felt my heart fall as I internally slapped myself for getting ahead of myself…for being hopeful. I felt the dejection and sadness envelop me anew, I had convinced myself a long time ago that her distance didn't hurt me, I still had her around me and I should be thankful for that.

But no amount of convincing could reduce the stinging hurt that I felt. I clutched at the flowers in my hand a bit tighter, praying for strength. That was something that I wanted from my mother- her strength.

"Go to your father now." Her voice was guarded and her dismissal abrupt. She couldn't have made it clearer that my presence was not required anymore if she wrote it on the walls in bright red paint.

It baffled me how she managed to bottle her emotions, how she kept them on leash. I wondered if she was actually as strong as she portrayed herself, her fainting spell earlier betrayed the fact that she was only human and she did feel.

But she didn't express it and that hurt.

I silently nodded as I got up, my feet feeling detached from my body as I walked towards the room. I could hear heated voices coming from within which caused me to furrow my brows in confusion