Noor

Hi, Daphne. How's everything? I hope you both are doing well. I wanted to ask you if it would be okay to visit you and meet her. I hope you don't mind, but I totally understand if it's something you're not comfortable with.

Hi, James. We're both doing good. I would be very happy if you met her. Mornings are the best option, since I'm alone with her and she's rested and awake. Would you like to come this Wednesday?

I'm very glad to hear you're well. Yes, I can be there this Wednesday. Can you text me the address and at what hour would you like me to go?

The doorbell rang and I dropped the fork that I had in my hand while washing impulsively the cutlery. I had been pacing, cleaning and organizing the house since 5 am. It was 9 am and the bathroom had been cleaned twice, the kitchen reorganized completely and the living room looked fresh out of an IKEA catalog. With the ring of the bell, I noticed how the color from my cheeks faded, how my heart started to beat faster and how I was looking at the door with terror. What if I didn't let him in? What would happen if I faked that I wasn't home? But my legs weren't listening to me, neither my hands, and so with the last question formed in my head, I saw myself opening the door. And standing in front of me, him. 

I truly believe he saw no expression in my face. My eyes were fixed on his, drinking all his features. I hadn't seen those eyes in months, but I had dreamt of seeing them again almost every night before she came to life. I convinced myself they would be forever trapped in my nights, and I would not be able to experience them in person ever again.

But there he was, and he was looking at me with an anxious expression, trying to figure out what I was thinking. I couldn't speak. I knew, in the back of my mind, I had to speak and let him in. I needed to smile and ease his concern, and keep myself moving, moving from the past and what it could have been. I needed to move, but I had him, in front of me, made of flesh and bones, and all I could think is that I used to caress that face.

—Hi. 

The sound of his voice broke part of the spell, but not all. I looked at him, shocked, for a second, before I put myself aside as to invite him home. I still couldn't bring myself to pronounce any sound. He kept looking at me while he entered the house, while he took off his coat and while I closed the door. I tried to keep my eyes off him but nothing in my brain was acting the way it should. I was memorizing everything: his small eyes, his eye wrinkles, the mouth I used to cherish, his neck.

—Hi.

I said it too quietly, too shy. My voice was thin and raspy, as if I hadn't been spoken in days. But I had! I had been singing, had been talking, had been even laughing the day before.

—Hi.

He echoed. He was uncomfortable, and in trance. I thought of hugging him, to ease him. I stopped myself. I thought of kissing him. I bit my inner cheek with such force blood came out of it. It helped me to bring me back to focus.

—Do you want something to drink?

I didn't wait for him to answer and I busied myself in the kitchen, taking out glasses and filling them with tap water. I heard his chuckle first.

—Yeah, water would be nice.

I wanted to smirk. I so badly wanted to show myself amused, because I was, I was ecstatic and full of electricity. I wanted to turn myself, with a mischievous grin on my face, and a witty reply. I wanted to flirt with him, as I had done before, as we used to do. All I managed to do is to lock my eyes on his and give him a glass. I stayed in silence and, after a second, he decided to take a sip, as if to give me space and time to talk. It didn't work. He stopped drinking and he received no sound from me. He fidgeted with the glass before opening his mouth.

—How was-?

—I named her Noor. I don't remember a lot of what happened... I do remember it started to hurt, suddenly, and I had to call my mom. I was rushed to the hospital but I don't remember getting in the car. I remember being in a room full of women telling me to push, then she started crying and after that I only remember her in my arms. She was beautiful and so, so tiny. She's huge now. You won't think that, because she's still very little, but she's grown so much... She eats every three hours and barely cries. She likes to be carried, but not too much. She likes when I sing stupid songs and when we lay her in bed right after I wake up. She doesn't sleep with me, mind you, she's very independent and I wouldn't sleep with her in bed being so little. But I do like having a moment just for us.

I had to stop myself to breathe and swallow. My body was shaking and my throat hurt, and I felt bad for interrupting him.

—Oh, well, that's...

—Do you want to see her?

I did it again. I bit my tongue. We had been locking eyes since he had sipped from his glass. I blinked a few times once I felt my eyes sting.

—Yes.

I nodded, took my eyes off his and began to walk towards my room.

—Very much.

I halted. I turned my back and faced him. He locked me, uneasy. I felt my eyes water and become softer. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I wanted to say many, many things, but deep down I knew there was no space for them. I nodded, briefly, and kept leading him to her.

And in a few seconds, we both were in front of her crib, looking down at a tiny, gorgeous, awake baby. She had this thick brown hair and two beautiful set of brown eyes. I forgot he existed the moment my eyes found hers. My whole body relaxed and I smiled, instinctively. I reached to her and picked her up. 

—Hello, my love.

I said with such love, feeling so alive. All the nerves, all the tension, all the sadness had been washed out of me. She was the only thing that mattered, ever, and all the suffering I had endured before having her and while I was waiting for him to come wasn't relevant. She was too important, the most important thing in my life. But he was by my side, and even though I wanted to enjoy her, he was in the room, with us. I took a last look of her before facing him.

—Do you want to pick her up?

He wasn't paying me any attention. He was fully focused on her, as if time had stopped. I felt how my insides turned jelly again. I had felt the same when I saw her for the first time.

—She's the most beautiful baby I have ever seen.

I chuckled, but part of the giggle got caught in a sob. I gulped, hard, hurting my throat while doing so, because I didn't want to cry. Not now.

—I mean, I know I'm not objective, but I feel the same way.

—It's not about being objective or not, it's about stating facts. She's delightful. 

I smiled, now with my eyes fixed on her. I was so proud I wanted to puke.

We stayed in silent, both of us absorbed by her.

—Can I... can I pick her up?

I turned my head so quickly I felt my neck crack. I nodded and handed her to him. He took her, his hands trembling but with decision, and my lungs stopped working. 

There they were. My daughter, a month old, in the arms of her biological father, the man I still liked but with whom I stopped meeting the moment we found out I was pregnant with her. There they were, father and daughter, looking at each other with such devotion that I felt a shadow of a heart attack. It all hit me right away and I didn't have the chance to control myself, so I started crying. He noticed and lifted his eyes from her. It made me go from crying to sobbing, all in silence. He gaped for a few seconds before deciding to put her in her crib again. My eyes were blurry but they still followed every movement he made, just to be sure she was okay.

—Can I hug you?

I nodded very subtly. I felt his arms go around my shoulders and my tears duplicated. My silence broke and I started to fully sob in his arms, shaking and trying my best to breathe. He held me tight, with the strength I remembered he had, and smelling the way he used to smell when I could kiss him and tell him how much I liked being around him.