Architect and Mrs Dantata

25: AMAL

I am no weather forecaster and I don't know much about how it works. One thing I do know is that it shouldn't rain this heavily in the middle of March. But then again I never thought I'll go from being one of the happiest people in the world to one of the saddest. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised.

I stare out of the blurry window as the plane comes to a slow stop. If anyone told me I'd be back in Nigeria before my graduation and that Zayd and I wouldn't have spoken for a month, I would have laughed and told them they were being absurd. How fast the tables can turn.

"Dear?"

I turn away from the window to look at the older woman who sat beside me throughout the entire flight. We didn't say more than five words to each other and she has no idea how grateful I am that she didn't try to force a conversation.

I lower my gaze to the portable, folded umbrella she's holding out towards me. I bring my gaze back to her face, shaking my head. "No, you need it more than I do."

She smiles at me and it makes my chest squeeze. She takes my hand and puts the umbrella in it. "I bought two in Paris. I didn't know why I was motivated to get two then but I'm glad I did." She pats my hand. "You need it more than I do, sweetheart. I don't know what made you this sad but I hope you feel better soon."

I was so sure I had no more tears to shed but the opposite seems to be the case as I stare at the umbrella in my hand. I sniffle and manage a smile. "Thank you."

Her smile widens. "You're welcome...What's your name?"

"Amal. Amal Muhammad." At the start of the year, I was so certain that by the end of the year it'd be Amal Dantata. "What's yours?"

"Melody. Melody Smith...Do you live here, Amal?"

I nod, the movement of passengers a blur around us as I stare back at her. "I do. I'm schooling at Stanford though. I just wanted to change environments for a bit."

She pats my hand again. "It's needed every once in a while. I hope by the time you have to go back to Stanford, you feel much better."

"I hope so too. Thank you, Melody."

"You're welcome! Come on, let's get out of this plane. I have to meet my son. I haven't seen him a year since he moved here and got married to my daughter-in-law...Let's go?"

I nod, rising to my feet. "Let's go."

I go through the processes on muscle memory. It feels like an out of body experience and I don't think I can change that. I'll have to try though. Mama, Mahmud and Baba think I'm in Nigeria because I just didn't want to spend the two weeks break we got in Stanford. I'll have to tell them the truth, I know. I just need today for myself. I need a little more time.

Melody and I part ways after claiming our luggage. I open the umbrella as I step out of the terminal, the rain now heavier than it had been when we landed. It takes a minute to spot Baba and his purple umbrella brings a small smile to my face. He's had that umbrella since my first year at Stanford. Mama got it for him and it's one of his most prized possessions.

I wanted Zayd to have a prized possession too; one that I'll give to him after we got married. It doesn't seem like that'll happen. That takes the smile off my face and I swallow the lump in my throat before heading towards Baba. I put on the mask I practiced time and time again in front of my mirror: wide smile, bright eyes (as bright as I can manage) and near perfect happiness.

"Baba!"

He hugs him once I'm in front of him and our umbrellas create the perfect shield from the rain; his way bigger than the one I was gifted. He laughs. "Hello, Amal." He pulls back. "How was your flight?"