23. Putting the pieces together

...

The last time Salman saw Jamil Bashir was at his fifteenth birthday party.

It was one of the most significant days of his life. His grandfather had arranged a party for the birthday boy at his countryside residence. All day, Salman waited for Jamil to show up. It had been months since he had last seen him, so his anticipation for his father was greater than the party itself. All of Salman's friends and cousins had been invited. They were excited to finally meet his father as well.

Jamil did show up. But when he did - he stayed for only fifteen minutes before leaving without any explanations.

Neela tried to explain to Salman later that Jamil acted the way he did was because of his perpetual conflict with his Nana Jaan, it had nothing to do with how he felt about him; but they both knew it did little to console the young boy's heart. The memory of that night was something Salman carried in his heart, even all these years later.

Salman kept checking the GPS as he drove down the unfamiliar street. Jamil Bashir resided in a two bedroom apartment near Rearview Lake - Salman had learned from his mother. The area was a quiet residential neighborhood - a place Salman did not visit often; yet, it was only a forty-five minutes drive from their apartment. His father had been only a forty-five minutes drive away for all those years and he never knew - the thought was strange to him.

Salman's mother was sitting on the passenger seat and his sister in the back, with her child. They had tagged along on his insistence. Salman cooked up the feeble excuse that Jamil had requested to see his grandchild - which neither women questioned.

Jamil had never made any actual efforts to maintain a relationship with either of his children. He occasionally called Neela to ask how they were doing, texted Salman after hearing about his engagement with Farrah, congratulated Malika on Facebook after seeing Aisha's picture. That was the extent of it.

Both Malika and Neela were casually talking and laughing. His sister was telling them that after attempting her hand at several career paths, she finally realized she wanted to be a stay-at-home Mom. She was just forcing herself to choose a profession due to the pressure from society, but in her heart she knew this was what she wanted.

Salman, on the other hand, could barely keep his thoughts straight. Neela had long ago healed from the scars her ex-husband left on her. Malika did not have sufficient memories with him to be scarred enough.

They arrived at their destination soon. The building was a sleek and contemporary structure surrounded by tons of greenery. The apartment itself contained modern décor. Salman's eyes caught a lot of geometric patterns and metallic splashes, with tall windows facing the jewel-toned green lake.

His father was waiting for them by the living room. Jamil Bashir was once a famous architect and interior designer, even more well-known was he for his devastating good looks and philandering ways.

Salman grew up hearing he was his father's mirror image. However, when he glanced at Jamil, he almost didn't recognize him. Old age had caught up to the man, and it wasn't pleasant.

Malika took the lead in starting a conversation, sparing Salman the burden. They shared pleasantries, exchanged light conversation, and then Malika handed him Aisha. Jamil held the baby in his arms with delight.

Salman had played this scene in his mind a million times, and he was certain when his eyes would land on his father he would be fuming with anger. However, as the time arrived, he couldn't bring himself to determine what he was feeling.

He recalled the last time he had seen his father. Jamil was in his mid-thirties back then - young, eccentric and charming. He did the mental calculation and realized his father was nearing his fifties now. Salman silently watched him play with Aisha, then had a startling realization that Jamil was in a wheelchair.

"I suffered a stroke at the beginning of the year."

Salman looked up to realize Jamil was speaking to him.

He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said. "I had no idea."

"It was rough," Jamil told him. "I didn't think I'd make it through."

"How are you doing now?"

"Still did not regain movement on my left leg, but better otherwise," Jamil responded. "How is your fiancée?" he asked. "Or has she already become your wife?"

Salman shook his head. "The engagement was called off."

"That's unfortunate."

Silence engulfed them. Salman flitted his gaze towards the window again, from where the deep green lake was visible. In favor of their luck, Neela Bashir chose the moment to saunter into the room, shattering the pregnant pause.

She had been strolling around the apartment since they arrived, shuffling her gaze over everything, sniffing her nose in a condescending manner.

"I see your taste in interior decoration hasn't changed," she said with a sigh.

"Neither has your tendency to insult it," Jamil retorted.

"Heard you almost died," Neela said with a little too much excitement, occupying the empty space besides Malika. "What happened?"

"I had a stroke. You didn't even come to visit me at the hospital," he said, tone turning accusatory.

She sucked in a loud breath through her teeth. "I had a nail appointment that day."

Malika shot her mother an exasperated look, then turning back to her father she said, "she's just messing with you. We heard about it through one of your friends. Mom and I checked up on you occasionally. We may not have come to visit, but we frequently contacted the nurse in charge of your floor."

Jamil pursed his lips in reply, but he certainly looked less vexed.

This was news to Salman, not only was he oblivious to his father's health condition, but he was kept in the dark by both his mother and sister.

He couldn't believe that neither Neela nor Malika had informed him. His mind went back to the time it happened, and it occurred to Salman that he was dealing with his own mess with Farrah back then. Learning of his father's condition would have been too much. Realization dawned on him, Malika and Neela had been trying to protect him.

Jamil informed them a little bit about his own life. He lived alone, only with appointed nurses taking shifts to take care of him. Salman knew he had married two more times after his mother - but none of his marriages worked out. He also knew his father had other children - half-siblings that lived out of the country. But by the sound of it, neither his children, nor ex-wives, kept contact with him.

Whenever Jamil talked of his loneliness, his voice turned accusatory and his eyes found Neela - who never failed to remind him it was his own lack of loyalty that landed him where he was today.

Salman's eyes never left his father. He grew up idolizing the man. He grew up bearing through their family's taunts. Salman even began to believe at some point that there was actually something lacking in them that caused Jamil to leave; but he could never put the man at fault.

However, as Salman now saw him, he only saw a man who ended up lonely and broken due to the fact that he could never see beyond his own selfish needs; and still failed to take responsibility for his actions.

They ended up staying the entire afternoon. Before leaving, Neela informed Jamil that they were celebrating the inauguration of her new store with her family at Jala-ud-Din Osmani's residence, and he was more than welcomed if he wanted to attend.

Jamil's eyes sparkled with excitement at first, but soon darkness descended on his face. Still after all those years, the name of his ex father-in-law brought him discomfort, and if being honest, a little fear.

"Do you have to hold the event there?" he asked gruffly.

"Get over it and find way to deal with my father once and for all." Neela rolled her eyes.

Salman did not say much during the entire visit, but before leaving he did say he hoped Jamil would end up attending the celebration.

A couple days passed after their visit. Salman went in search for Katrina in their office. His mind was churning a million thoughts.

There were people in his life who had been fighting for him for years - despite how difficult he made it; and there were people who were ready start fighting for him - even if he didn't always deserve it. What he realized was that it was high time he fought back for those people.

Salman found Katrina. The girl shot him silent disappointed looks from across the room. He had dropped their relationship cold after the last conversation, but he was determined to make it up to her.

He took the seat in front of her and let out a sigh.

"I don't even know where to begin," he said.

Dahlia and Kaveh returned home for the first time since their wedding.

Their vacation had ended. They were both due to work soon. Dahlia had a mountain of assignments to make up for MBA, as well her job. There were at least twenty phone calls from relatives they had to attend to, and friends to get back to. On top of it all, their house was an absolute mess.

The couple was in the middle of moving to their own apartment. Getting their own place wasn't an easy decision to make in the first place - considering both of their families were disapproving of it - and they knew now settling down would prove equally challenging. But Dahlia had her heart set on getting their own apartment, so Kaveh stood firmly by it.

Layla Fayyad was the one who volunteered to approach their parents and try to convince them.

"He went to the University you wanted. Got the degree you wanted. Settled for the career you wanted. Even married the girl you chose for him. And you can't let him have this one small thing?" she accused her parents.

Kaveh was astonished. "Why did you say that?" he asked his sister later. "I married a girl of my own choice; and Oxford was my dream too."

Layla shot him a hopeless look. "Just remember to thank me later when you get what you want. Actually, if it works, which I know it will, you need to have my back while I convince our parents that I do not want to pursue higher education. Once and for all."

Layla's manipulation worked so well, their parents not only gave the couple their blessings to move to their own place, but Yasmine Fayyad got teary-eyed and offered to pay for the apartment too. Kaveh was so impressed with Layla that he not only took her side, but for the first time in his life he realized his sister deserved more credit and trust.

Despite having their own apartment, Kaveh and Dahlia were still spending the nights at the Fayyad mansion. With all the post-wedding dinner parties, along with the trip to the village, the couple just didn't find sufficient time to move all their belongings.

The only thing the apartment had so far was a bed in their bedroom. The rest of the space was just cluttered with suitcases and cartons. The sight was beginning to give Dahlia anxiety - and her tolerance level for messes were much, much higher than her husband's; so she could not even begin to imagine what Kaveh was going through.

That was the case until Dahlia's parents had sent furnitures for the entire house as a wedding gift. She watched with a helpless look in her eyes as the movers kept shifting one piece at a time in their already mess of a space. Both her and Kaveh had hoped to utilize the weekend and get a move on organizing. But by the looks of it, they weren't getting organized anytime soon.

Kaveh was deeply offended by her parent's gesture. "I can't accept these. This is a toxic tradition," he told her.

"Just consider it a wedding gift," Dahlia tried to reason. "Neither you nor your family created any pressure. My family send these by their own will."

Kaveh accepted her reasoning with deep dissatisfaction. Dahlia looked at the movers with a sigh. What else was she supposed to say? This was a toxic tradition.