That Night, Small talk with the Beardy Man...

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She rubbed her hands with her teary eyes. She looked away from the computer monitor she has been staring at for the past three hours. She stood up to the window bar. The stars were scattered around the dark sky surrounding the half white shiny moon. The city looked sleeping and quite from her fifth floor small apartment.

The clock was ticking past midnight. Tomorrow was Monday.  She hated Mondays because they were the epiphany of her resentments towards the system ‘who invented this Monday to Friday work thing’ she always cursed that man who structured human life and doomed their creativity forever or ‘till after retirement’ as if there were enough brain cells left to fire at that age. who are they kidding!'

Creativity needed efforts, breathed consistency and most importantly took time and courage. She didn’t have time nor energy for it.

She recently craved for something; or someone and she didn’t know what medicine to take.

Suddenly, she walked to her coat stand, grabbed her blue jacket and Hijab, put on her boots and shut the front door behind her. Ops ‘I hope I didn’t wake anybody’ she thought

She walked to the park beside their condominium, which  was just about  five minutes away, aside from her morning jogs she never visited this park at this time or seen it’s light, or seen the homeless people sleeping on the benches all alone in this weather.

One of them was awake staring at her through his smoke circles  , she did not feel scared or frightened as usual, like when she passes through the train subways when coming late from work, fearing to be killed for a laptop or pushed over because of the cloth wrapped around her head. ‘Some people feared that cloth smh’

“It’s very cold Ma’am, what are you doing out here, this hour” he said with a high pitch voice, she almost feared he woke up the whole neighborhood “nothing sir, I couldn’t sleep so I was just having a walk around here” she said coming close to his bench, surprised with her newly found bravery at 1 am.

“You couldn’t sleep in your warm bed?” he threw a discontinuous laugh that sounded struggling on its way up “lets switch tonight, yeh?” he suggested, followed by a short giggle again and put the cigarette back to his beardy mouth.

She felt grateful to her warm bed.
“Do you mind telling me since when this bench is your home?”

“Since the police chased me from CityLab neighborhood” “I wasn’t always homeless, you know, I used to have a life like you and worry about other stuffs, now all I worry about is my next bite and where to put my head....I have a daughter about your age, who lives in another state, she is married with four kids, I never told her because I don’t want to add into her worries. She is a good girl”

Hasna suddenly said “have you had dinner tonight sir? “

 “No, I had 4 cigarettes so far, it’s enough to make my stomach warm till tomorrow” he giggled with his discontinues laugh . “Wait a minute sir” said Hasna her eyes lightening up. “I’m not going anywhere young girl“

She ran back to her apartment ignoring the growing cold in her feet. Sneaked into the door, tip toed around, opened the full fridge. There were plenty of leftovers from her mother’s feast yesterday. Her mother had a habit of inviting community mothers over to their place at Saturday evenings and cooking her best recipes. She never hid her agenda of looking a decent husband for her daughter of 28.  Who was gradually exhibiting the typical attitude of (Gumees) spinsters, not even projecting the audacity of helping her hoyoo in front of their guests,who were usually keen observants and loved to exercise their tongues often .

She packed the leftovers in what she could find of plastic containers in the kitchen. She thought it was 2 days worthy of food for the bench man. She tip toed again. And shut the door behind her.

That night she slept on her warm bed. Not hating on the system or on Mondays .Not thinking she was jailed living. Aware of all of her blessings, including her bed and hoyoo. ‘

She decided that tomorrow will be a new day, that Face book  or negative emotions will not eat 3 hours of her precious time. There is nothing wrong with being single and 28? Her Mom should stop making her feel bad or calling her gumees or saying “nayaa asaga wala qaba” whenever she complains of something. ‘calaf was calf’ what meant to you is meant to you and its not going anywhere.

Her medicine was in her head.