Scatterings

Hi, my name is Afnan. No, I am a girl, and yes, this is the story of my life. Well, not exactly. This book is about how I wanted the story of my life to go. And all the ways it did not. And also about how its currently going. I need prayers, mortal immortal alike.

My perfect life is far from my current life. How I would have wanted to grow up, is not how I grew up.

My ideal life would have been a normal American highschool. Lockers in the hallways, different classrooms for different subjects, walking around the small school building, food fights at the break in cafeteria: you know, a typical life of a highschool student. Mine was nothing like that. I went to semi-government school, the type that won't listen to the government and was mad expensive. They overcharged us for everything: notebooks, stationery, art supplies. We even had to pay for our farewell parties.

We did not have lockers. So you can imagine the torment I had to go through carrying a heavy bag to school every day, in a uniform that I swear will haunt me even 20 years from now. No ponies allowed if your hair were long enough to be braided. Trimmed nails, no dangling earrings, no piercings of any other kind, no makeup, restrictions on lunch money, that kind of school.

We were always in the same class, not allowed to fly paper planes, throw notes, or eat inside classroom. We weren't even allowed to eat anywhere outside the cafeteria. They searched us for any goodies we might sneak out. So much so that it became a game of dare. People were coming up with unique ways to sneak food, and if someone ever saw someone else get away with it, they never snitched. It was an accomplishment, trophy-worthy.

It was a pretty strict school alright, until we entered two years of our A-Levels. After that, it was like we had stepped into another world entirely.

We were encouraged to join and lead committees, clubs, sports. Our opinion was taken into consideration. We organized events, hosted sport galas, drama, fairs, you name it.

The downside? We were worked like slaves, and never given enough credit anywhere. Well, not we, my classmates. I never had the will to join anything. It wasn't compulsory, and the way colleges work in my country, you just have to pass an entry test which was tough, because well, there was too much to learn.

Maybe if I had done some extracurriculars though, I wouldn't have been rejected by most colleges because I would have had something to show.

I also never experienced teenage love. Or a love that was reciprocated anyway. I've had crushes throughout, but one that was reciprocated? Life did not like me enough. Oh, what would I have given for wanting to wake up for school, just to see him and hold his hands, to wander around the hallways alongside him, smiling, laughing.

But it was okay. Just because I did not have the perfect teenage hood, did not mean I could not have the perfect adult life.

Boy, how wrong was I.

Let me tell you, taxes came as a huge shock. And the change in my surroundings even more. I had always wanted to live independently. Alone, get a 9-5 job, come home to no-one, no nagging, no irrelevant opinions, no picking up after another human being, or a feline. Life, in my imaginary world, would have been perfect; no touchy-feely emotions, no compromises, no unnecessary judgement.

However, I graduated A-Levels. And had a gap year because no university would take a lazy student like me in. Funny enough, it was then that I realized how scary adulthood could be. I had to pay for my own clothes, hot water, gas, electricity, everything. My family would meet, all the cousins, while I would be living alone, at a remote place. I realized how even though I was not a fan of them, I would infact terribly miss them.

But this story is not about my teenage-hood. It's about my adult life. How weird it went, how far from what I wanted it to go did it go.

The day I turned 18, I was coming back from an interview at a potential college. I was in the bus, travelling back to my hometown, in a seat right behind the bus driver. It wasn't a nice experience. He cleared his throat and spat on the road. He waved angrily at the cars infront of him and kept horning at them. This man was tired of his life, and he was hell-bent on not letting anybody else find joy in theirs.

I was in the seat by the window, hoping nobody would fill in the seat beside mine when the bus hostess came over and leaned in.

"Is this seat taken by anyone?"

I nodded.

"Oh! I can seat you here sir." She turned, motioning a guy behind her towards the seat. He thanked her and sat, while she adjusted his duffel bags on the overhead storage. I looked at the guy discretely, trying not to be rude, yet wanting to know if I could spend the next 8 hours beside him.

Olive skinned, black hair silkier than mine that stopped short of his shoulders, legs looking for a comfortable way to fit in the tiny space.

"Hi," He looked at me, a smile so pretty it took everything in me not to keep staring. Before I could reply however, the hostess turned towards him, "You are all set. This bus would stop by the rest area in about 3 hours, where you can catch your bus. Be sure not to miss that one sweetie."

He smiled at her and nodded.

It felt awkward to greet him back after we had been interrupted so I went back to my phone. Out of the corner of my eye, he did too. I mindlessly scrolled through my Instagram when a notification from Eshaal popped up. I clicked it.

Eshaal had been my best friend since fourth grade. We were just classmates at first, but when our O-Levels rolled around, we got really close. We studied together, talked about everything that went on with our friends, gossip majorly.

How did the interview go?

It went fine. Not hopeful at all.

CHILL. They need the money, they'll take you. Fingerscrossed!

Fingerscrossed for this guy beside me. Feels like right out of a YA romance novel.

OMG?! SHOW.

WHAT THE HELL NO! Stop being a creep.

Shut up and do it.

The bus is moving. Talk to you later.

It's not an airplane. what the- COME BACK!

;D

Well. This guy beside me was attractive yes, but I was not that smitten I'd act a creep. The hostess came on the microphone.

"Greetings passengers," : which turned into a half an hour ted talk about staying calm in case of any emergency, a detailed explanation about the appropriate usage of the buttons above us, and not shouting for refreshments.

"Would you like a mint?" Silky-Hair offered.

"Does my mouth smell?" I still do not know where did that hostility come from. Maybe that I was weirdly aware of the fact that I was travelling alone. Instincts?

"No?" Confused, he retracted his hands. "I'm sorry I did not mean to imply that."

"Right, then no."

"Alright, why are you so fired up? I was just being nice." He threw his hands in the air and waved them around.

A blush crept up my neck from the embarrassment. Maybe I was being too rude. But I did not know how much nice could I be before this guy here took it as an invitation to start shamelessly come on to me. But it was a little comforting see the hostess shoot me death glares for my exchange with Silky-Hair. At least she'd step in, even if not for the right cause.

Good for me, I was wearing a hoodie, so he couldn't see the change in my skin tone.

I picked up my phone again, and opened my messages. No reply from Dad. He must be still mad, and hell is he stubborn.

You see, my father did not like me much. My sister and brother were academic weapons, my brother an all-rounder with MUNs, sports, declamations, Olympiads and whatnot. My sister was the distinctions holder, every year till Year 4 of her medical college, and counting. And I? Well, I was the middle child. I was gifted academically, but not enough. And my parents and I got into fights over my life, a lot. Any activity besides studying was a 'way to waste your time with friends, having fun and not caring about your future at all!'

Before I left for this interview, my dad had told me not to go because he saw it as me going on a vacation. That I was barely 19, with no job, no life, nothing to show to the world for it remembered me. That I was a embarrassing failure who had spent her life leeching off them, and would spend her life leeching off her siblings.

Parents can be cruel, but they can be right too.

I had picked my bag and stormed out, leaving the door banging, my last words to him being: "My life would be way better cleaning other people's kitchens and doing their laundry if it meant never having to attend humiliating dinners with you swines anymore!"

They were mortified. And so were my siblings when they heard about it. And so were my first cousins, my second cousins, my third cousins, my aunts and their in-laws, my uncle and his extended family, our maid and her sister and her brother-in-law, our neighbours, and I'm guessing our neighbour's pets too.

I ignored them all the whole week I was away in Islamabad. He was so angry at me he cancelled my hotel reservation, and the bus ticket. I had just enough saved up for a one-way ticket, so even though I was in tears at the bus-stop with no plan of what to do ahead, I still boarded my bus and came to Islamabad.

And I did what I had to, to make ends meet for the week. I found a motel, and agreed to work as a house keeper by hours to earn just what it cost my room. The owner guy was a man, with streaks of gray and white in his hair, wrinkled forehead and saggy double chin. It was surprising when he showed me his yearbook, all excited to have someone share his evening tea with, and I did the math to figure out he was just forty-two. He offered me a food everyday for the whole week because he knew I did not have the money to afford a proper meal, because something I realized as soon as I came here, was that Islamabad was expensive. Too expensive for someone with no job. I would've had to sell my organs to afford only a day's meal, had it not been for this lovely man with a motel.

I closed my phone and looked outside. Maybe if I was just smart enough, I could have avoided every single argument uptil now. I was tired, and against my will, I fell into deep sleep.