I am so sorry for your loss.” Nabila whispered. “Al baqaa’ lellah, ya Tante”.
Nabila hugged her friend’s mother as she struggled to lock her tears in by keeping her eyes wide open. The woman’s body started shaking as the sobs escaped her mouth. Nabila’s body quivered at the woman’s convulsions, then tears betrayed her strong front and stained the woman’s black wrinkled scarf.
“I am so sorry.” This time Nabila was crying, her voice trembling at the end of every word. She tightened her grip on the woman’s waist with one hand and patted on her back with the other hand. After a few seconds, Nabila loosened her grip and the woman leaned back to look in Nabila’s eyes. Her eyes were swelled and red as Nabila watched the crystal beads trail down her cheeks till they merged into a stain on the scarf by her neck.
Nabila squeezed the woman’s trembling hands and assured her that Farah was in a better place than theirs. Giving room for the rest of the guests to offer their condolences to Farah’s mother, Nabila entered the bright hall that was filled with women and young girls wearing black. The hall’s walls were carved with Islamic verses from the Quran, and the dome-shaped ceiling was decorated with Arabesque art creating a fusion of golden brown and royal blue. People’s humming voices echoed in the hall with the sound of the Sheikh reciting the verses from the Quran in the background. Nabila sat down next to the door glancing every now and then at Farah’s mom as guests came and left.
“Poor little girl!” A woman in full makeup murmured to the other woman next to her. “Heard that she died in a car accident.”
“Aw! That is so sad!” The other woman flapped her hand in the air, her diamond ring flickering.
“Oh my God! Tohfa, your diamond ring is so fabulous!” They both giggled quietly and discussed the latest trends in the jewelry world.
Nabila fiddled with her tissue paper as Farah’s memories faded away those petty conversations. Death had never crossed Nabila’s mind; her biggest fear was to fail her IB exams, but losing a friend in a car accident had never occurred to her. She received the news of Farah’s accident last night and couldn’t sleep all night. For the first time in her life, she had experienced a sleepless night of intolerable pain and loud tears.
Nabila snapped back to reality when Yasmin, Farah’s college friend, called her name. She stood up and hugged her, and again her eyes resumed the crying.
“It’s going to be okay.” She whispered in Nabila’s shoulders. “She will be fine.”
Yasmin sat next to Nabila and rested her hands on her shoulders. Black looked odd on Yasmin, the girl who always wore colors and was never friends with black. They sat silent for a few minutes, listening to the Sheikh’s strong voice reading verses that talk about heaven’s luxury.
“When did you last see her?” Nabila’s voice was barely hearable.
“Yesterday at university.” Yasmin answered.
Nabila glanced at Yasmin in despair to hear more.
“I had to submit a project, so I didn’t spend a lot of time with her. I can’t believe she won’t be here anymore.” Yasmin clenched her fists.
The two girls went over to Farah’s mother. They offered her a bottle of water and a chair. They stood next to her, shaking people’s hands and receiving condolences for their friend’s death. Farah’s mom would tear up every time any of the condolences mentioned her daughter’s name.
“My only child. The light of my eye.” She would wail. “My beloved baby died.”
Yasmin left after an hour, but Nabila stayed with Farah’s mother until the end of the service. After making sure that nothing was left behind, Nabila helped Farah’s mom into the car with Farah’s dad. Nabila offered her condolences to him and asked him to drive home safely. She wasn’t very acquainted with Farah’s dad since he wasn’t always home when she came over.
The next morning, Nabila headed to Farah’s house to keep her promise to Farah’s mom that she would be helping with sorting Farah’s stuff. Nabila never wanted to do this, but she couldn’t leave Farah’s mom on her own. She rang the bell as soon as she arrived, and Nour, their maid, opened the door. She didn’t say a happy ahlan as she always did before, instead she stepped aside for Nabila to enter and lowered her gaze to the floor. The drapes were shut, preventing sunlight from entering the house. Nour went back to the kitchen while Nabila climbed up the stairs to Farah’s room. Nabila remembered the numerous times she had climbed those stairs with Farah; how Farah used to drum roll on her back whenever they were in a hurry to go somewhere; how Nabila used to sit in the middle of the stairs and give Farah a fright then fall to the ground laughing. The memories kept rushing through Nabila’s mind as she heavily lifted a leg after the other to reach the villa’s first floor.
Nabila could hear Farah’s parents talking in their room, opposite to Farah’s room across the corridor. She went over to Farah’s room and waited for them to finish their conversation. The door creaked open and Nabila slowly stepped inside. The dreary room suddenly became glistening with Farah’s presence. She was there on her bed, resting her long hair on the pillow with the laptop stand above her abdomen and her right earphone on. She smiled as soon as she saw Nabila and waved for her to come over and share the laptop screen with her. Just when Nabila was racing towards the bed, darkness prevailed and Farah disappeared.
She is gone. Accept that she is gone, forever.
She squatted to the floor and rested her back on the edge of Farah’s bed. Dim light penetrated the grey curtains reflecting on the white tiles. Nabila hugged her knees and cried. She caught her breath in between her soft sobs.
“Why did she do this?” a loud shriek came from Farah’s parents’ room. Nabila could recognize Farah’s mother’s voice.
“Why do you think she did it?” a hoarse voice answered. It was Farah’s father. Nabila was able to identify his raspy voice, though this time it was roughly different.
“Why do you think she did it?” Farah’s father repeated, but this time his words were intensified. “She did it because of you. Because of me.” His voice elevated to a higher pitch, “She did it because you didn’t give her the care she deserved.”
“Bullshit” Farah’s mother’s cry interrupted him, “You know very well that this isn’t right.”
“I gave you the responsibility.” He yelled, as the sound echoed through the floor, “You only had to take care of her. That was all you had to do. But you failed.” He paused. “You failed.” he repeated.
“I don’t know from where she got those pills.” Farah’s mom roared.
“Because you are so busy with those retarded friends of yours.” He replied. “You never knew because you never cared.”
“And where were you?” Her voice was hysterical. “She needed a father!”
“Don’t put the blame on me, woman.” He hissed. “I’ve put up with all your shit for the past years just for her sake.”
“Now she’s gone.” She snapped. “Leave then! Leave!”
“Our only daughter killed herself, and you are talking about leaving?” His voice grew louder. “She killed herself.” He was wailing.
Nabila gasped. Lightning struck her at those three words.
Impossible. No. Impossible. This can never be true. She died in a car accident.
Nabila stood up and stumbled her way to the light switch and turned on the lights. The room wasn’t messy like it always was. She headed to the commode next to the bed and opened the drawers and searched through them. Her heart was racing as she tried to quietly look for any sign of pills. Her hands stopped as soon as she saw an orange pill container. Her hands were shaking as she focused on reading what was written on the container.
Effexor (venlafaxine hydrochloride)
She flipped the container to read the description of the medicine. A structurally novel antidepressant for oral administration. Nabila’s eyes widened; her best friend was taking antidepressants and she didn’t know. The container crashed to the floor and the white oval-shaped pills spread on the floor. Farah’s parents rushed to the room as soon as they heard the sound and found Nabila soaked in her tears on the floor next to the drawer. Farah’s mom gasped and hurried over to Nabila while Farah’s father collected the pills and put them back in the container.
“When did you arrive?” Farah’s mom asked.
Nabila held tight to Farah’s mom and rested her cheek on her shoulders and wailed. Farah’s dad threw the container in the bin and took it outside the room.
“Farah didn’t kill herself.” Nabila whispered in between her sobs. “She couldn’t have done this.”
They both kept on crying in each other’s arms.
The following day, Nabila went over to Farah’s house. All night, she had been thinking about possible reasons that made Farah commit suicide. After she poured out all possible tears her eyes could produce, she felt the urge to understand her deceased friend; this was the least she could do towards her. When she arrived at the house, she heard Farah’s parents quarrelling again. Nabila heard a crashing sound as soon as she climbed up the stairs to the first floor and watched small turquoise pieces of crystal sprinkle across the marble in the corridor. Farah’s mom screamed then Farah’s dad stormed out of the room, ignored Nabila’s faint figure in the corridor and climbed down the stairs then slammed the door of the villa behind him. Nour hurried up the stairs to remove the pieces of glass on the floor as Farah’s mom’s sobs pierced the silence in the house.
Nabila hurried to Farah’s room and shut the door behind her. What Nabila was seeing and hearing didn’t make any sense; it tore apart the perfect picture that Farah had drawn in her mind. She could still remember how Farah used to boast about her parents and their love story. Farah would joke about how her father teased her mother and how it would make her crack up. It all shattered with the vase that fell to the floor into pieces.
She never told me that her parents weren’t going along, Nabila thought.
“I have another best friend.” Farah had once said when Nabila was over at her house. They were sitting on the bed; Farah was playing on her phone and Nabila was watching Friends.
“I know you only have me, loser.” Nabila replied. Farah shook her head then glanced at Nabila to show her a sly smile.
“Show her to me then.” Nabila challenged.
Farah left her cellphone on the bed then stood up and went over to her cupboard. She grabbed a small key and unlocked the top-right drawer.
“This.” She exclaimed as she waved a purple notebook in the air.
“This is your best friend?” Nabila smirked.
“Yes. My other best friend.” She nodded. “My diary.”
“Show me.” Nabila demanded.
“No!” Farah shook her head. “You can never see this unless I die.”
Farah locked the notebook back in the drawer and put the key underneath her books in the cupboard. Nabila had made fun of Farah’s other best friend then resumed her watching.
Nabila fought the urge to break down at those memories and opened the cupboard, hoping to find the key to Farah’s other best friend. She lifted the same pile of books and found the key. Nabila’s heart was bleeding; did Farah say this when she knew that she was dying soon? Did she really mean it when she said that I would only see her diary if she died. She unlocked the drawer and got the purple notebook out. A thousand thoughts battled in her mind; she knew that if she opened this notebook and read it, it would change a lot of things in her life. If she found out why Farah killed herself, she would never be able to remember Farah as a happy memory, rather a painful one.
Nabila carefully flipped the pages of the diary, wondering whether she should read her friend’s diaries. A small squared yellow paper fell to the ground. Nabila picked the paper and noticed Farah’s curvy handwriting.
Nabila, burn this if I die.
Do not show them to my parents.
Nabila was struck to find her name written inside her diaries; Farah wanted her to see this. She put the notebook in her bag and locked the drawer then took the keys. She wanted to leave so she can absorb all of that. She passed by Farah’s mom in her room and told her that something came up so she would come later at night.
Back in her room, Nabila began reading Farah’s diaries starting by the first page. It was written five years ago, when Nabila and Farah were in middle school. Her writing was shabby and full of grammatical mistakes. Nabila smiled at the memories that were described in Farah’s diaries. Farah kept referring to Nabila as her “bestest friend” in her diaries. Nabila kept on reading, flipping the pages to her friend’s memories, smiling and crying at the same time. In some of the pages, Farah expressed her sadness towards Nabila’s busyness and how they were becoming more apart. In other pages, she wrote about how Nabila was the only friend who understood her and made her life brighter. After 3 years’ worth of diary entries, Farah’s writing began to dig deeper into aspects of her life that weren’t known to Nabila. She talked about her parents fighting and the night she woke up to her mother’s sobbing. She wrote down her feelings of agony and despair towards her family, and how she felt that she was the only tie that kept a wrecked family together. At times, she wished for death so she could give her parents the freedom they wanted.
Nabila felt guilt leaping out of the purple notebook and stabbing her heart. She was always next to her friend yet she never got to see the pain she was going through. She hid everything from Nabila so that she could never doubt that something was wrong.
Nabila skipped two years and resumed her reading starting the past two months. There were a few pages that talked about happy times with Yasmine and Nabila, but the rest were depressing. She mentioned disappearing and dying many times in her writing. On March 18th, she decided to go to a psychiatrist that she found good reviews about online. She wrote how desperate she felt and how much she needed help. She said that she didn’t want to tell any of her friends so that they wouldn’t feel burdened by her low self-esteem, so she tried to avoid meeting any of them for some time.
Oh God! That is why she was avoiding me. Nabila thought as she wiped away the tears forming at the edges of her eyes.
The mood began to shift as Farah described how the treatment was positively affecting her. She went back to her normal life and took the prescribed dosage of antidepressant pills every day.
Nabila flipped the page to find nothing. The last diary entry was two weeks ago. Nabila kept on flipping the pages, hoping to find something more, but there wasn’t. She grabbed her cellphone and dialed Yasmine’s number.
“Yasmine, its Nabila.” Nabila’s breathing was getting heavier.
“Nabila, Hey!” Yasmine’s voice was soft.
“I want to ask you a quick question if you have a minute.” Nabila said.
“You said you saw Farah a day before she passed away, right?”
“You take classes with her, don’t you?”
“Yes, I take three classes with her.” Yasmine seemed worried.
“This past week, was there anything weird about her attitude?”
“Did she talk to you about anything?” Nabila asked. “We met before my finals, so I didn’t get to see her after that.”
“What’s wrong, Nabila?” Yasmine inquired.
“Please, just tell me.” Nabila pleaded. “I just want to make sure of something.”
“Okay okay!” She paused for a few seconds. “She seemed upset about something, but she didn’t want to talk about it. I thought it had to do with the projects and finals.”
“I see.” Nabila said. “Thank you Yasmine. I am so sorry to bother you. Will call you again later to explain everything.” Then she hung up.
Nabila put the purple notebook back in her bag and wore her sneakers then went over to Farah’s house. Farah’s dad’s car was parked in the corner of the street; the engine was still on. Just when Nabila was about to pass by it, Farah’s father got out of the car and opened the backseat door. A little boy, who looked about 4 years old, jumped off the seat into Farah’s dad’s arms. A young woman, with golden brown hair and ocean blue eyes, got out of the car and put her hands on Farah’s father’s shoulders. He smiled at her then kissed the boy on his forehead.
“Baba, promise me you will come and watch me in the school’s play!” The boy exclaimed as he held onto Farah’s dad’s shirt.
“I promise, son.” Farah’s dad said and then passed the boy to the woman next to him.
She waved at Farah’s dad as he walked towards the villa’s gate, then she put the little boy in the back seat and drove off.
Farah’s dad waved at them as they passed by him then entered the villa and closed the gate behind him.
All of a sudden, Nabila felt the weather became so cold; she was freezing.
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