The Name of Red

by Beena Khan

  She turned toward him, her eyes blazing. “Dammit Kabir, it’s not a competition. You dropped out of the program that you worked so hard to get into. You changed your whole career. You punish yourself every day for the patient’s life that was lost.” Elif took a deep breath and continued, “We both lost people. We know each other’s pain and can relate. We both suffered, just in different ways. Don’t compare.”

  There was a red light and Kabir had stopped the car. He stared at her, dumbfounded, with a new respect and admiration for her.

  “Your Wafa turned into a bewafaa, it’s kind of funny,” Elif said, trying to suppress a smile.

  He laughed abruptly at her hidden remark.

  The intense atmosphere in the car was lightened with her single joke. The name Wafa meant loyal, and his former fiancée was the opposite. She was a bewafaa. She was disloyal.

  Kabir’s laughter was loud and deep. They both high-fived each other as they began to laugh until they had tears in their eyes. After a few moments, their laughter stopped, and they were left gazing at each other.

  Beauty still exists in the darkness.

  She was a dark beauty that gave him soft, dark, hope.

  She was like the dark that comes just before sunrise. Elif’s eyes shone with a gentleness, and Kabir felt at home with her. She was the first to break eye contact, and said, “The light is green.”

  He slowly accelerated and glanced at her, but she turned to doing what she knew how to do best, drink.

  This time from a Fanta bottle.

  ❖

  Elif was unable to concentrate at work the next day.

  She was slightly hungover, but it wasn’t too bad.

  Her hangovers worsened day by day. She always woke up to a pounding headache that ached throughout the morning. Her mind was always swirling first thing in the morning when she opened her eyes. The headache felt like a balloon, it inflated more as the pressure built.

  She popped some painkillers in her mouth. She always carried them with her. She had gotten in trouble for being late to work before. Sometimes her hangovers were so bad she had to miss work.

  Kabir had stopped her from over drinking this time.

  His fiancée left him at the altar, she thought sadly as she began sketching a design for a project she was working on. The company she was working with was in the process of creating an underwater aquarium. Such news would usually excite her, but it didn’t hit her that way today.

  She pondered over the fierce debate he had with her last night on who had suffered more.

  He was fighting for me to win.

  She smiled to herself at his fondness.

  Which was worse, being left at the altar or at death?

  Both of these pains are unimaginable. These were things you wouldn’t wish on an enemy. She looked up and made sure no one was looking before she took out her hip flask. Sometimes, she tried to sneak in a sip, but there were cameras around her so she couldn’t.

  She sighed in frustration and ripped up her design. She began to sketch again, her mind going in different directions.

  Focus, Elif.

  She remembered when she had first heard of this project, she was so excited, and she felt lucky to be chosen to work on it. It wasn’t the same anymore. Her body felt heavy these days with her brain struggling to recover.

  Elif felt her phone vibrate and she pulled out her phone from her bag. She glanced at the screen and smiled. The name —Khala—flashed on the screen. Her aunt Ismat had texted her.

  Aunt Ismat: How are you?

  Elif: I’m okay, I’m working.

  Aunt Ismat: I miss you.

  Elif smiled.

  She missed her aunt too, but she didn’t speak much to her after she moved to New York.

  Her thoughts went back to Kabir.

  Alcohol addiction, huh? she thought. She’s always known her habits weren’t healthy, but she couldn’t forget the past.

  Old wounds should have stayed as old wounds, but they’re back. They’re glued to my skin, haunting my core now.

  Chapter 24

  Elif and Kabir’s friendship deepened once the secrets were laid out in the open. “Your parents died too?” he hesitantly asked her the next day.

  “Murdered,” she corrected him.

  Kabir’s eyes turned to her.

  Her complexion looked ashen and pale. She resembled nothing like the woman who had first came to his restaurant. Her wildness and her fire was faded. He knew that woman was still in there, but he didn’t know how to bring her back again. He watched as her eyes closed as if sinking into a deeper place to cope. He felt the heaviness of her heart and her mind.

  She’d had a rough life. She didn't have anyone. She had lost her parents, her husband, and her unborn child.

  Life isn’t fair, Kabir thought.

  He felt hopeless.

  Something ached inside of him as she stared at her. He knew heartbreak too well. He felt bound to her, to her... loss. He knew what it was it like to lose someone to death and believe it was your fault. He wanted her to laugh with him again. He didn’t want to pity Elif and her situation since that was the last thing she needed. He prayed that the burden on her shoulders was less now that she had someone to lean on, but he wasn’t too sure he was helping.

  “What happened?” Kabir asked softly.

  “My parents were wealthy. They owned their own business. It shouldn’t be a surprise someone would try to rob another person who was rich but it was unexpected. I never expected that to happen to them. It happened when I was fifteen-years old. I was so young. I wasn’t home—” Elif stopped to catch her breath, her eyes glistening.

  She continued, “A man broke into our house and murdered my parents. They died in their own home. I was at my friend’s house. That’s the reason I survived. Otherwise I would have died with them.”

  “You got away,” he whispered.

  Elif shook her head. “I've escaped death twice now.”

  “There’s a reason you survived.” Kabir wrapped his arm around her pulling her in close.

  “And what is that?” Elif laughed bitterly. “To waste my life drinking alcohol?”

  “So you can come into my life,” Kabir whispered softly, but Elif didn't hear him.

  She was too lost in her grief.

  Kabir realized, ever since Elif opened up to him, her grief slowly worsened. He thought if she shared her feelings with him, she would feel better. He regretted asking her, a person who was grieving inside silently, and he had unintentionally brought her pain to the external surface again.

  He brought up her old scars again, and now he couldn’t leave them on the shelf like books to gather dust.

  Chapter 25

  Elif didn't come to the bar the next day.

  There were multiple missed calls from Kabir, but she hadn't answered her phone. It was mean, but she didn’t want to speak with anyone at the moment. It had felt good to speak to someone about the accident after a long time of silence though.

  She found her voice, only to lose it again.

  She was sitting in the bedroom and saw a box peeking out from her cupboard. She hesitantly raised herself up from the bed, lifting her weight from it. The mattress squeaked as she moved. She walked in small, slow movements toward her cupboard, her legs almost giving out below her.

  With a deep breath, she opened it.

  The box fell out crashing to the floor.

  Pictures of Isaah and her were scattered. She sucked in a breath and slowly, dropped to the cold floor gazing at the pictures. The tiled floor felt cool against her bare legs. She shivered at the touch. She stared at the pictures of their college days and their wedding.

  Our wedding.

  She remembered their time together.

  She smiled bitterly. I was a widow at the age of twenty-seven.

  Elif put the pictures back in their place and prepared herself for work. She put on straight black pants and a white shirt underneath and layered it with a black blazer. She
made herself breakfast and silently ate at the table. After she finished, she fetched her designs for the underwater aquarium which were due today.

  She came back to the kitchen but suddenly glanced up. Across from her sat a wine bottle on the table.

  I shouldn’t drink right now, I have to go to work.

  Then, she began to second guess herself. She placed her designs on the table and began to reach for the bottle before darting her hand back at the table. She placed her hands firmly against the table so she wouldn’t do anything drastic.

  She stared in awe at the bottle. The wine in the bottle seemed cool and refreshing.

  I’ll just take one sip, she debated with herself.

  No, no, no, you got a warning from work last time, her inner voice argued. But it was too late. Elif grabbed the bottle and unhooked the cap. Then, she took a big gulp before she could change her mind. The smell of alcohol penetrated her nostrils, and she shook her head in delight.

  One big gulp turned to two, then three, then four.

  I should stop.

  She felt as if she had no control over her hand. Her hand wouldn’t stop holding the bottle, and her throat wouldn’t stop drinking. She craved booze, more than anything right now. There were other ways to clear the brain and cope with bad memories, but alcohol was her choice.

  She finished the wine.

  Elif hiccupped. She felt relaxed and better than before, but she still craved. She moved from her seat as she went to the refrigerator. She bent down and peered inside, the cool air hitting her heated face, fanning it. She saw two more wine bottles.

  She smiled and reached for the wine bottle nearest her to meet her needs and cravings. Her mouth was already sore from the amount of alcohol she had poured into it, but Elif didn’t care anymore.

  Drinking was the best idea right now.

  She took the wine bottle and wobbled her way back to her chair. Suddenly, she bumped into the chair, and her jelly-like hands dropped the bottle. It splattered on the table breaking a part in large glass pieces. She watched as the liquid spilled onto the pieces of papers.

  My work designs, she slowly thought.

  Her brain was fuzzy and in a rush at how much alcohol she had downed in just twenty minutes. Her eyes widened as the realization hit her with full force this time.

  My designs, oh fuck.

  ❖

  A week later

  Elif’s hair was in a loose bun and she looked tired.

  She had deep, sunken dark circles underneath her eyes, and she wasn't wearing a trace of makeup. Her face was clean-faced—her once natural ivory skin was sunken in color to something so lifeless. She was wearing a black flowy dress ending at her ankles. Her dress today seemed to match her mood.

  “Where were you this past week?” Kabir asked, sliding up next to her.

  “Nowhere,” Elif replied softly.

  “Everything okay?” Aryan asked her.

  Something had happened, Kabir thought. And Elif was hesitant to tell us both.

  Kabir nodded at Aryan to turn away so he could speak with Elif in private, even though he knew he could still hear from the distance he was at.

  “So, since you obviously don’t want to tell me what happened. Tell me something else I don’t know about you. An honest truth.” Kabir didn’t ask, he demanded this time. It comforted him to know a part of her every day, things that no one else knew.

  Elif paused, thinking, “I have a large dress collection.”

  Kabir smiled. “I know about your dresses already. I noticed them, especially the red one.” He rubbed a hand over his dark stubble that was growing now, and he asked again, “Why do you wear dresses in winter time? It’s freezing outside.”

  He glanced at the windows. It was April yet frost grew over the windows, even though the air inside his restaurant was warm. He watched ice-crystals grow for a while, until she spoke, and he snapped his head in her direction.

  “Maybe, I want to freeze to death.”

  Kabir glanced at her sharply. The muscles in his face tightened. “You have such terrible thoughts.”

  Elif smiled at him. After a few moments, she was deep in thought. She rested her chin in her palm and said softly, “He liked my dresses. Whenever I wear them, I feel a part of him with me.”

  He.

  She smiled and continued, “That red dress is the one I actually wore on our first date.”

  It's sentimental.

  “What made you wear it to the bar?” he asked.

  She tilted her face toward him, leaving on an elbow. “Reminiscence. I wasn’t planning on coming to a bar that day. I was just walking, just wandering. And it started pouring all of a sudden.”

  “What was Isaah like?” Kabir asked. He was curious about the man Elif loved and had married. He didn’t want to compare himself to him, but that thought was deep in his head.

  Competing with a dead man, that’s pathetic, Kabir, he thought.

  Elif’s eyes lit up at the thought of Isaah. “He was kind like you, a quality most people lack. He was funny, that was initially what had drawn me to him.” She was smiling now. Kabir wondered what memory she was thinking of her husband and felt jealousy stab his heart.

  “What was a bad quality he had?” he asked.

  He didn’t like hearing about Isaah anymore.

  “He thought he was the shit. He used to have an annoying smirk, and he was so full of himself at times.” Elif wrinkled her nose, Kabir assumed that she was thinking about another faint memory, one that wasn’t pleasant, and he smiled.

  Kabir, you shouldn’t have to throw dirt on another man to feel better about yourself, his inner voice told him.

  He regretted his earlier thoughts instantly, and he hung his head down in shame and guilt. Elif didn’t notice, since she was staring at the table in front of her.

  He asked about Isaah again but differently this time. “What was his nickname for you?”

  “He didn’t have one. He called me by my name,” she said, smiling. “I thought it was sweet he didn’t try to give me another name.”

  Kabir looked at her, unsure how to respond. Elif caught him looking. She shook her head at him and said smiling, “No, I like it when you call me Red. I let you.”

  Kabir let out a sigh of relief.

  After a few minutes, he asked her, “How did you cope with your pain before coming to the bar?”

  “I kept myself isolated, and I didn't come out of my house for months,” she responded.

  “You still keep yourself isolated. Not much has changed, right?”

  Elif gave him a small smile.

  Kabir asked, “Where are your friends and family?”

  “My maternal aunt and my uncle live in Montreal, Canada. I still speak with them. Most of my cousins still live in Iran and Pakistan, but I don’t talk much to them. I love my aunt. She raised me after my parents died. I stopped talking to my friends over a year ago though. We had a falling out.” Elif scowled at the memory.

  “What happened?” Kabir asked.

  “Isaah and I had the same circle of friends. After we were together, my friends became his, and his friends became my friends. We all hung out together.”

  “You didn’t answer the question.”

  He noticed.

  Elif glanced at him sideways and smiled.

  “We had a falling out because I wasn't willing to move on with my life…My friends wanted me to start seeing other guys, but I didn't want to. There was a particular guy that they liked, but he would have ruined me so I left him,” she said.

  Kabir was secretly glad he was gone.

  “Who was he?” he asked.

  Elif was quiet, and Kabir was afraid she wasn't going to answer.

  “His name was Saagh.”

  Chapter 26

  Kabir asked curiously, “What happened?”

  Isaah and Saagh.

  One man left me and the other ruined me.

  Elif remembered Kabir’s words, when she first confessed her truth
to him.

  Can you find that moment again?

  Isaah was the reason she started drinking, and Saagh was the moment when she had almost stopped. Now, they both were gone. She didn't like speaking about Saagh.

  That was one secret that she would never reveal.

  “You’re too nosy,” she replied to Kabir, her eyebrows furrowed. She didn’t want to burden Kabir about Saagh. Kabir was already too involved in her life. It was a painful time that was better left unspoken of.

  Kabir’s cheeks pinkened, and he looked down.

  Elif smiled at his expression and promised, “Ask me something else, and I will answer.”

  Who’s Saagh? Kabir wondered, but instead he asked a different question, “Where were you born?”

  Elif snapped out of her dark thoughts. “I was born in Tehran, Iran. My mother is Persian, and my father is from Karachi, Pakistan.”

  “You remind me of Claudia Lynx,” Kabir admitted. She was a famous Persian actress and model. She was well-known for her beauty: her black hair, distinct blue eyes, and prominent cheekbones.

  Elif turned toward him with a smile. “Yeah, I’ve gotten that before.”

  “Do you speak the languages Urdu and Farsi?”

  Elif replied, “I can speak some Urdu, but I understand the language. I speak Farsi fluently.”

  Kabir was fascinated. “Say something in Farsi?”

  “Hala har chi,” Elif said softly.

  “What does that mean? I secretly hope you’re not cussing at me,” Kabir said, narrowing his eyes.

  “It means ‘whatever,’” Elif replied, mischievously.

  Kabir rolled his eyes at her, a smile breaking on his face. “All those words just to say whatever.”

  Elif laughed. “Where were you born?”

  “I was born in the states. My family is from Lahore, Pakistan. Tell me something else about you.”

  “I’m kinda an heiress, a small one. I inherited my parents' money after I turned twenty-one. It’s why I’m able to afford this booze,” Elif said, raising her alcoholic glass.

  Kabir looked at her in surprise, as if expecting her to add more to her statement.