Before Time (The Time Trilogy Book 1) (5 page)

That day, we connected like never before. Maybe,the bond of friendship had finally solidified, but that conversation is still embedded in my mind like it happened yesterday. He left an impression on me because it was so easy for me to talk to him about anything. If I look back at the conversation, it was all about me: what I thought, I ate, I did, my opinions.

Girls like being the center of attention for guys, but here I was, feeling something missing. I enjoyed talking to him; that much I had told him. It was interesting to converse with him, share myself, even though we didn’t know each other’s names yet. Weird, wasn’t it? Anyways, on that freezing cold December day, our conversation marked a new fate for us. He didn’t show up for two days, in which I didn’t feel that his absence was that much of an issue. I had other friends on IRC and I stayed busy with them. At the back of my mind, he was always there. That was a bad omen.

Chapter 4

I woke up to a bleak December morning. A quick glance on my cell phone informed me that it was eight a.m., but from the weather outside the windows, it seemed like daybreak. I stretched like a cat and rubbed my eyes. What made me wake up this early? That was when I remembered that I had an interview today. I jumped out of the bed as if electrocuted. After a quick shower, I stood in front of my wardrobe and eyed my clothes.

What should I wear?
There were all shades of pink, as that particular color was my favorite, and then there were shades of black. I chose a black dress with tube sleeves and a broad neckline for my interview. It was conservative and elegant, a perfect combination. Even though the voice in my head chided me and insisted that I would fail, I drove myself forward to go because that was what Mom wanted from me. By the time I was ready to go, it was nine o’ clock, and my reporting time at the university was ten o’ clock. The university was on the outskirts of Islamabad, so if I wanted to reach it on time, I had to leave right now.

It was raining cats and dogs all the way to the university. As I watched outside the window, people walked along the footpath under their umbrellas, desperate to get out of the cold rain. The trees looked fresh and green. The rain had washed all dirt from their leaves. Everything around me had been rinsed clean.

This month always filled me with happiness. Another year was about to end, and we would enter into a new one, with new hopes, resolutions, and expectations. But this December was even better. As November bid us farewell and December came, the happy feeling of something wonderful coming stayed with me, a more specific hope than usual. The interview didn’t seem to be the root of my destiny, but something wonderful in my destiny was definitely coming.

As the car turned a bend, I saw the university looming on the left side with its wrought-iron gates closed and guards posted on the outside. I grimaced at the imposing structure of the med school, which would be my place if the interview went well, and waited for the car to stop. Soon we reached the gate and I got out. I was supposed to walk a long way before I reached the main campus. A steep, sloped driveway led towards the main building. I walked, looking around at the deserted university. Many students wearing their lab coats sat here and there, studying in groups and chatting.

Finally, I reached the main campus and walked towards reception. A woman in her thirties stood at the desk, looking questioningly at me.

“Hi. I’m here for my interview for the BDS program.”

“What’s your name?” she asked as she took out her register.

“Onaiza Shahid.”

“Wait a second,” she said. I looked around the reception area as she looked for my name. There were several pictures with positive, educational greetings written on them. One of the quotes attracted me, because it described my inner feelings pretty well.

“Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.” – Nelson Mandela.

“Here you are, dear. I found it. Please go straight from here and then turn left. On your right hand side, there will be door with a bold number two on it. That’s where you have to go.”

“Thanks.” I said, walking the way she had directed. As I turned left, I saw the bold black number two on the door. I turned the handle and entered. Another woman, a little younger than the receptionist, smiled sweetly at me and came towards me.

“Hi! I’m Onaiza Shahid,” I blurted.

“This way, Onaiza.” I followed her towards the end of the room, where some of the other students were sitting as well. I sat down on a chair, which was further apart from the others. Company of any kind repelled me. It felt like the other person would know everything about me if I opened my mouth, and then they would surely hate me. I refrained from engaging in small talk. It was an agonizing wait, and smelled a bit like a hospital. Another look around the room told me that this was the biochemistry lab and that was why there was a strong smell.

After what seemed like hours, it was finally my turn for the interview. Suddenly, my body started shivering. I walked on legs that felt like jelly towards the door and opened it slowly; a panel of teachers stood in front of me. I walked towards the only seat in front of them and sat down.

“Hi. Please have a seat and introduce yourself,” the female teacher, sitting in the middle seat said. She had black hair which was bound in a tight bun behind her head, and she wore thick black-framed glasses. Her mouth was quite stern and intimidating.

“My name is Onaiza Shahid and I have recently completed my A-levels from Cambridge University. I’m the fourth daughter in a family of five and my father is a government employee. That’s all about me.”

A teacher on the left spoke up.

“Why do you want to study dentistry?”

“I’ve always wanted to help mankind, and any kind of help is good enough. I believe with my curiosity for knowledge, I will be well-suited to assist people and help them.”

“Tell us an example of how you cope with stress?”

“Well, I am an optimist, so I try to keep myself calm, but then, sometimes I just lose my temper. I’m working on that.”

“That’s all, Onaiza. Thank you for being truthful. Have a nice day.”

“Thanks.” I gave them a small smile and came outside. Sighing deeply, I walked outside towards my car.

Mom was in her room, taking a nap, when I returned home. I didn’t want to disturb her. I tiptoed softly through her room towards the staircase that led downstairs towards my room. Halfway through, I heard her walk out of her room.

“Onaiza!” I turned around on the staircase and went back upstairs.

“I’m here, Mom,” I said and sat down beside her.

“How was the interview?” she asked.

“It was alright. I really don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I answered all of their questions. Let’s hope for the best.”

“My prayers are with you,” she said, smiling.

“Thanks, Mom. I really need to get out of these clothes and put on something warm,” I said, standing up.

“Sure, go ahead.”

I went to my room and changed into my comfortable trousers and a t-shirt, then put on my two layers of sweaters and socks. I went upstairs to grab something to eat and then returned to my room. I was sometimes impulsive, and that day, with the bleak mood I was in, I did something that I should never have done.

Every druggie, drinker, and doper finds reasons to justify his or her actions, regardless of the intensity of what he is doing. I was no different. I wasn’t a regular addict, but I had my weaknesses. When those took over, I sometimes took reckless measures. Therefore, that day there were many factors that contributed to what I did. I’m not proud of that, but I just have to live with it now. Perhaps it was the after-effect of the gloomy med school I had just visited or a conflict of emotions from a long time back, but I broke down.

I went upstairs to grab something to eat, as I was quite famished. The kitchen was empty, as there was nobody around. I opened the refrigerator door and glanced at the shelves, but there was nothing that tickled my interests. Making a face, I closed the refrigerator door and headed towards my mom’s room. Mom had my niece in her arms and was cuddling the little one.

“Mom, I’m hungry. Is there something to eat?”

“Onaiza! How many times do I have to tell you to find food yourself? You’re a grown up now,” she said condescendingly.

“There’s nothing in the fridge, Mom.”

“Then I can’t help it. Why don’t you go and make a sandwich?”

“Never mind.” I went down to my room. She always treated me like that and didn’t even care. All she wanted from me was to get into med school and be her puppet, I thought bitterly. I didn’t want that; I wanted a life in which I made my own choices.

Back in my room, I sat on the bed and stared into space while tears of futility filled my eyes. Was my becoming a doctor more important to my mom than me?
It was a question that plagued my mind. Then a thought occurred to me. I quickly stood up and walked towards the storage room.

I had been more depressed a few days back and had no idea what to do. Recklessly, I had asked a friend to get me a bottle of Smirnoff. And so he had, understanding my predicament. I had stored that bottle away from my room, in a corner nobody checked. I found the bottle that I had placed there few days ago. I hadn’t decided them whether I really wanted to do it, but today I was sure. I picked it up and carried it to my room. Sitting down on my bed, I uncapped it and took a swig.

I wasn’t really in the mood to talk to anyone, as I wanted to wallow in my silence and pity myself. I was just lurking around mIRC, sulking. Even mIRC didn’t succeed in lifting my mood. It was boring. I switched the window to the channel where we sat together. At that very instant, he logged in and joined the channel.

ME:
Welcome!

Impassioned:
Thank you.

There was silence. I privately messaged him when he didn’t say anything more.

ME:
I am sorry I haven’t talked to you much because I am drunk today.

Impassioned:
Did you say drunk? Like, drunk would really mean under the influence of alcohol.

Me:
Yes.

Impassioned:
What kind of reaction would you expect from me after listening to this?

ME:
Anger.

Impassioned:
Why? You don’t belong to me in any way.

After a short pause, he said more.

Impassioned:
Disappointed is the best word that describes it.

ME:
Hmmm…

Impassioned:
I expect more than this, at least. Just tell me why?

ME:
I was having some problems.

Impassioned:
Physical or psychological problems?

ME:
Psychological.

Impassioned:
Obvious answer.

ME:
Hmmm…

Impassioned:
Would you like to elaborate the obvious problem? Or perhaps you would want to give our trust a little more time? I am saying this because we are now reaching a point where one of us has to break his/her rules and trust the other.

Ugh! He asked so many questions.

ME:
I would like to have more time.

Impassioned:
These kinds of discussions have little meaning in chat. Therefore, for better results, kindly arrange a number that you don’t use and take this discussion with me to voice. Please note that I have broken a rule that I have been observing for one decade by asking for this.

ME:
Voice? Now?

Impassioned:
Not right now; I have to go to the university to deliver a lecture. Probably tonight!

ME:
Alright. Get a Skype ID then.

Impassioned:
I said voice, which doesn’t necessarily mean over the internet. I will not turn on my laptop at home, AND I cannot possibly voice chat in my office therefore, read what I wrote carefully: “kindly arrange an unused number and take this discussion over voice”. What I meant was cellular phones.