By: Liaba Aamir
Posted on: July 31, 2022
Cover Image: "A Ride Through the Clouds"
Cover Image by: Shreeya
Her eyes incandescent, the luminosity of her love filled them to their brim, as a tear trickled down her pale cheek, setting the disparity in her expression aglow.
Was it something she could ever bring herself to make amends for? An intelligible murmur in her head soiled seeds of remorse in her heart. Even before she had time to confer the validity of her choices. And her heart, making hasty conclusions, sensed the tension in the air and the hesitance in her feeble voice. It pounded exasperatedly against her rib cage, yearning for an escape. An escape from an adamant flood of absurdity determined to submerge and engulf her. And she was afloat amidst the turbulent currents, indifferent to the chaos that had grown fond of her.
She appeared timid yet well-composed. From the first impression, even before approaching her, she seemed a tamed yet collected person. Yet inside, she was a complex weaving of the hollowest and shallowest depths of unspoken emotions that quilted the demurring embroidery she was.
"Are you sure you wish to undergo this procedure?" the nurse asked, breaking the long-held silence with a professional yet empathetic undertone.
Without a second thought, Anahita blurted out the answer she had memorized on her way to the hospital in the cab, "Yes, I am sure. There is no reason to wait any further. It is what I want. I do not intend to change my decision again." Though it was far from the truth, she was not 'assured' what a mediocre word to describe her deposition, she thought. She was well aware that if she were to give in, even for a mere millisecond, her conscience would convince her into weaseling out.
With her stern stare, the nurse nodded and said, "Then you must be there tomorrow at 6 pm for the procedure." Anahita nodded, and the nurse left her alone with her sanity spinning at the center of its gravity, in the waiting area. Interrupting her trail of thoughts, she clutched the files of her medical reports close to her heaving chest.
The liminal void of the waiting area echoed the relentless fidgeting of her nails against the washed-out blue plastic chairs with rusted edges. Her heart beating in excess, she leaned forward as she reminisced what Ashkan had said to her earlier today. "With our menial income, we cannot even afford this month's rent. How are we to raise a child with such a disability? What about its medical needs? How will we pay for its medical bills? You are not thinking straight."
The truth was, she had always wanted a child. "A child is a blessing in itself," her mother would tell her. Persian Lores of dauntless mothers while she would help her stack the piles of saffron on one another.
A jubilant childhood hers was. She would coax dolls out of corn husk and dream of a day her child would possess those same dolls. Little did she know the day would come, and it would bring every possible means of deteriorating her motherhood. Was it too much to ask for a child with a bony skull and big almond brown eyes like their fathers', one that would rekindle an incomprehensible bliss in her heart? A bundle of joyful giggles, one that she could nurture in the all-so cherished wooden cradle her mother had given to her as a dowery. One that she refuses to neglect in the dusty attic and has gathered plenty of space in the corner of her compact bedroom.
Anahita pressed her palm flat against her belly. She thought if all the voices in the universe hushed, she would be able to listen to her child's heartbeat syncopated to hers. Her fingers circled her belly soothingly as if even a harsh wind would harm her child. Though, it was the irony of the whole notion that seemed funny.
And there it came, a moment of self-reflection, maybe it was her motherly instinct, or perhaps it was some sort of a miracle that she decided not to do.
She ran through the hallway recklessly, with love for her unborn apparent through the tears forming in her eyes. Indeed, it was Anahita's Miracle.