I am nobody. For most people I don’t exist. I blend in the background. People may walk over me without even noticing. And as long as they don’t give me any trouble, I don’t mind either. The troublesome part is when they do notice me! Oh boy! From my features to my eyes that make me look like I walked out of a morgue; they mock at everything. When God makes people like me, He usually compensates for it by giving them good brains or courage or any commendable trait. Me? He forgot to put anything in me I guess, or probably He did it out of convenience.
After being called a cabbage, pea-brained and the queen-of-dead at school, when I reached home, I found my sister crying her lovely eyes out. She had stolen my father’s brains and sturdiness and my mother’s good looks. The only problems in her life were either boys who cheated on her, a very ugly pimple or the girl-who-wore-the-same-dress-like-hers-at-the-party! Sounds like misery, doesn’t it? My father adored her and pampered her like queen-bee. My mother was the quiet sort but I have seen the way her eyes shine when she looks at her as if saying with pride, Look! I birthed her!
“What happened?” I asked.
“Oh Amna! He did it again.” She had class even when she cried. Her mascara never smudged and her nose never ran!
I sat beside her and opened my arms inviting her to hug. She really was in distress I guess, because she hugged my stinking-uniformed-self without even wrinkling her nose.
I held on to her, as tightly as I could. She was the stronger one! Without knowing it, it was she who infused her strength into me and her strength multiplied a thousand times engulfing me in its warmth. I let out a shivery sigh. If for nothing else, I was so grateful to God for this; for providing me a way to heal without asking for it!
©2012. Habiba Danyal
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This is a work of Fiction for Trifecta week 56.