THE DEGREE OF HAPPINESS

8

Tina was waiting for me at the entrance.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," I replied. Jida had an arm around my waist, helping me walk since my left leg made it difficult to walk. Tina came forward and I shifted my weight from Jida to Tina.

"Jazakallah, Jida," I said.

She smiled, "No need for that, dear. And call, if you need anything."

I nodded with a smile and turned to leave when Soroush called, "Elizhapedia?"

At once, my head jerked back to see Soroush standing behind his grandmother.

Elizhapedia. This was the second time he'd called me that, after so many years. Despite the illogicality of it all, it still made my heart pound.

 He appeared in front of me and said, "Jida, hold her arm, please. And remove the sleeve a little bit."

Jida did as her grandson said. Soroush took a permanent marker from his pocket and wrote down his number as Tina and I watched, unblinking.

Finished, he took a step back. "Call me. Even if it is at three at night, call me. I don't care about the circumstances, they can be as stupid as wanting a button for your sock puppet,  you just call me. I wrote my number in permanent ink so that it doesn't get erased easily. So that you have no choice but to memorize that number so that even if you are stranded with nothing but a button phone,  you just call me. Do you understand?"

I stared at him, unblinking, unsure of what to say.

"Is what I said clear?" he asked again.

I didn't reply and turned, to go upstairs to Tina's place. To Soroush's credit, he didn't try and stop me.

-----

Three days later and my gaze still went to the number Soroush had written on my arm. It was faint now, not fully gone because I was too lazy to scrub it off. I'd given up after two tries. 

I ended up memorizing it, on account of how many times I'd stared at it.

It was.....comforting, I suppose. Having someone that cared enough to do such a step.

Even if that someone was Khalid Hakeem's son. A man I'd much rather never associate with.

"Hey, Elizha? Your potatoes just burned," Tina said.

"Huh?" I asked.

"Potatoes," she said, indicating to the pot in front of me, the potatoes now char black and steaming.

"Shit," I murmured. I turned off the stove and took the pot and placed it in the sink. 

That was a horrible move. My palm had burned in the process, since the handle was way too hot. 

"Shit," I murmured again as I turned on the sink and placed my hand under.

"Be careful, you moron," Tina said. She placed her hands under the sink too and tried to soothe the burning.

Mom was coming today. We were in my house, preparing dinner. My aunt, aka my father's sister was also supposed to come too.

Normally, I wasn't a horrible cook. I could cook basic stuff. 

Today, however.....

"Sorry," I said, "Way too distracted."