“There is one thing imperfect…” he said. “Maybe… you could work on your rajma recipe.”
“I know right!” She pulled back. “It was bad, no?”
“Hmm.” He managed, apologetically.
“I thought so too, but you were eating it quietly so I thought, maybe I am not enjoying my food because of the long day.”
He chuckled, pulling her back under his chin. “Thank you.”
“For all that I have done and will do?”
“For who you are. No other woman in the world would put up with a man like me, forget work so hard to make him happy.”
“Do I make you happy?”
“Whatever is good and happy left in my life is you, Amaal. Every innocent moment of my life belongs to you.”
She raised her face. “And you?”
“I belong to you, too.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm?” He raised both brows.
“Hmm. It’s difficult between us right now, but it will not be so forever. Ok?”
“Hmm.”
“And I will not come into your bedroom. That’s your space. Show me what you want to show me, hide what you want to hide. That will be our LOC, I promise”
“I…”
“I promise.”
His mouth snapped shut.
“Hmm?”
He smiled. “Hmm.”
————————————————————
That night, he peeled all his clothes off, then the compression jersey and slacks, and came face to face with his own body in its entirety after two months. He had seen grafted and recovered third-degree burns in textbooks, seen fresh burns with his own eyes, treated them, known how they would always live on that body. Now he saw them on his own.
The upper left corner of his chest, running up his shoulder and neck, was melted. The hair follicles dead. The colour lightened from grafts. His left bicep was melted, the skin running down to his wrist and back of his hand leathery. This particular wrist was also jammed. His physiotherapist was paying extra attention to return motion there.
Samar turned his attention to his right hand. Some of the palm had burned but it was healing well. No scarring. The scars began at the back of this hand and continued to the back of that arm, running all the way up to the shoulder. He turned, and everything south of his neck was melted, the lower back affected the worst, as that part had come in contact with live fire as he had jumped.
Amaal was right. He had to be grateful that he had lived. He was. But his mind was shifting between the blessing of a new life, of being reborn for her, and making peace with offering her this version of himself.
Maybe theeverythingshe saw for them would become visible to him, too, one day.
Until then, he would make sure his body worked well for her, even if it did not look well for her.
46. Do you believe in god?
“Do you believe in god?”
