16- Asahd's POV
Writer’s POV:
Throughout that week, Asahd worked nonstop. He rested throughout the weekend and spent his time in bed and on his phone.
He’d succeeded in bringing sixty five dollars and additional tips from work, everyday, that week. As planned, he would give thirty dollars of his money to Djafar as his contribution to bills, and would stay with what was left. Djafar was very happy with Asahd’s efforts and would call the sultan to give him details.
Asahd was improving when it came to getting rid of his laziness. But there was still many other problems that needed to he solved. He remained the same egocentric, rude, disrespectful, spoiled and selfish Asahd. When he demanded something useless that he couldn’t buy himself, and Djafar said no, he would go into uncontrollable tantrums. Typical.
It saddened Djafar who hoped Asahd would learn to appreciate the little available, would learn to be humble and control his loose temper.
Asahd was as stubborn and steadfast as ever. Throughout that week of work, he spoke to neither Djafar or Saïda, unless it was concerning his work and the money he had to contribute for the so called bills. He ignored them and wanted to discuss nothing with them.
It hurt Djafar very much that Asahd ignored him that way. But even though it saddened him, he remained very strict and firm. Whenever he felt like giving in to Asahd’s nonsense, he would remember that all he was doing was for the Prince’s good.
Asahd’s POV:
I lay on my bed, manipulating my phone that Sunday afternoon.
I then received one more call from my parents, for the fifth time that afternoon. I’d been rejecting their calls ever since I’d discovered this stupid plan of theirs. But that particular day, I decided to pick.
“What?” I asked lazily, picking the call.
"Finally, my dear. How are you?
-Are you okay??” I heard my parents ask.
“Well, I’m not dead yet. And it’s not thanks to you two. I was robbed and had a gun pointed at my forehead, the first night I spent in this city! The first!”
"Asahd, we tried to call you that same night, after Djafar had told us about the horrible incident. We were so worried but you refused to pick our calls and since have.
-Your father is saying the truth, Asahd. Sweetheart you should understand that this is for your own good. Djafar told us about your job and how you are doing great with it. We are so happy.
-Yes dear, we are very proud of–"
I hung up before they could finish whatever bullshit they were saying. In just a minute or so, they’d bored the hell out of me.
“Proud of my ass,” I mumbled.
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
“Go away!” I said, manipulating my phone.
But the door opened and Saïda stepped in. I rolled my eyes. I’d ignored her throughout that week and though she tried to speak to me, looking for all means for me to answer and speak to her, I still did not say a single word to her. Wasn’t interested, didn’t care.
“Asahd?” she called and approached my bed. “How are you today?”
I sighed and put my headphones on. I wasn’t going to listen to her. She was still trying to speak to me but the loud music I was listening to, covered up her gibberish.
My eyes grew wide in disbelief when she pulled my earphones off. I looked at her like she was mad.
“How dare you??” I asked, annoyed.
“Will you please listen to me?” she grumbled.
“I have nothing to say to you or your father. Leave!” I stood and grabbed her arm, forcefully leading her towards the door.
“Asahd, listen to me first!” she said angrily and abruptly got out of my grip.
“What??” I asked, rolling my eyes and already exasperated.
“I– I convinced father to get you a car for your job,” she said and I froze, looking down at her.
“What?”
“I convinced my father to get you a car that would help you with your work,” she repeated.
I couldn’t believe my ears.
“You did that?” I asked, unable to believe a single word.
“Yes.”
“Why?” I scoffed and folded my arms. “What’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch. I promise.”
I squinted my eyes and stared at her until she flinched. She never did anything nice for me unless it was for some reason or so.
But it hit me. I’d noticed that she’d looked kind of uncomfortable around me but still tried to speak to me. Like she was trying to regain my favors or so.
“This is because I said I hate you, right?” I asked, slightly amused.
“Honestly, yes. I don’t like you at all Asahd, and it’s no secret. I like to see you have a hard time with this new life but there’s one thing I don’t want. I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t want anyone to hate me. You can dislike me, but hate is a different level.”
“And so you convinced your father to get me a car so I would stop ‘hating’ you?”
“I don’t want you to hate me. And the only thing I could do to get a little favor from you, was to convince my father into getting you a car,” she admitted.
“He wants to talk to you. He’s in the living room.”
She ended and left the room. I followed her to go meet Djafar.
“Yes?” I said to him, folding my arms.
“Saïda has probably already told you the necessary. Yes, I got you a car for work. If it was left to me, you would never get one because you have to learn to toil, Asahd. However, she succeeded in convincing me, making me realise that you work more than five hours a day and waiting for a bus or going to a subway is even more tiring after a long day. And so I got you one. Nothing special, so don’t get all hype. It’s a secondhand car. You’ll have to deal with it.”
′It can be that bad.′
I tried to think positive, though a lump grew in my throat almost immediately.
′I miss my baby.′
Oh, how I missed my sweet and expensive sports car, back in Zagreh. The sting in my chest at the thought of it was almost unbearable.
-
Djafar stared silently at me, probably expecting me to say thank you. Tsk!
“Don’t you have anything to say, Asahd? Not even to Saïda?” he asked slowly.
“Where’s the car?” I asked casually and he shook his head a little, in clear disappointment. He’d betrayed me and so I didn’t give a damn about his feelings.
“Saïda, go show it to him,” he told his daughter.
“Okay.”
She led the way out of the apartment and I silently followed her. We took the old elevator and went down. We left the building and stood on the sidewalk. There were a lot of different cars parked outside and so I didn’t know which exactly was the one Djafar had gotten me.
I followed her down the sidewalk till she stopped in front of one. My heart sank.
“This is it??” I asked in disbelief, my eyes wide as I stared at the old car.
“Yes,” she replied, her lips twitching in clear amusement. She was trying hard not to laugh. I didn’t find it funny at all!
“This is it?! It’s so old school! And ugly. Oh gawd,” I ran my palms over my face in disgust. “Saïda, does it even work?!”
“It does,” she cleared her throat, still withholding laughter. “It works perfectly well.”
I stared at the junk.
“This is it?? Are you kidding me?” I went round the car. “This is what I’ve been brought to, now?”
The window of the seat next to the driver’s seat, was completely down.
“It’s bad. So it remains open,” she mused, after seeing that I was staring at it.
“Oh my gawd. Why?”
I thought I would pass out. I stuck my head in through the open window and the smell almost killed me.
“I’d rather die than ride this,” I gasped in shock, stepping back. “Thanks but no thanks. I’ll manage the bus rides and subway for as long as possible. It smells like ass in there, Saïda!”
“I got you these,” she smiled and showed me an air freshener and car perfume or so. “Put them in and by tomorrow, it would have a different smell. As for the outside, we can wash it together if you want.”
“I’d rather die, than ride this junk!” I covered my mouth, unable to realise the terrible reality. “What the hell is this?? It looks like a stolen car and smells like someone gave birth in the backseat! I’d rather die.”
Saïda frowned a little.
“This junk, as you call it, is what a lot out there are praying to have. This junk, is what some people sleep in because it’s the only thing they have close to a home. You don’t want it? Fine. I’ll go return the keys to my father,” she frowned and walked away.
I stared at the ugly car.
′It’s not like you have a choice. You need it, Asahd. Get a grip and take it.′
Hating what my life was at the moment, I reluctantly turned and called Saïda.
“Saïda? Wait! Please come back.”
she stopped and turned, then she approached me.
“What?” she retorted. “I had to talk a lot for my father to get you this, and all you do is be ungrateful and reject it. What is it??”
′I can’t believe I’ve stooped so low. But she is right. I need the car.′
“I’ll take it. I actually need it,” I muttered, a lump in my throat.
Her face brightened a little.
“For real?”
“For real.”
She smiled and gave me the keys.
“You won’t die, Asahd,” she mused and turned to leave but I spoke again.
“I– I accept your offer in helping me wash the car.”
“Get the buckets of water. I’ll get the cloth and cleaning materials,” was her reply.
“Saïda,” I called again and she turned once more.
“What again?”
“Thank you. Very much,” I meant it. “And I don’t hate you. I didn’t mean it when I’d said it. Never did, and never will.”
“Good to know,” she smiled. “You’re not that dumb after all.”
“You’re not that witchy either,” I chuckled and she laughed a little.
“Let’s go get the stuff to clean your new car,” she mused.
“Please don’t call it my car or new. I’m still trying to get over the trauma. Shish.”
It gave me goosebumps just thinking of the fact that I had to ride in it.
~~~~~~
•AN: I enjoyed this chapter 😂 Any thoughts on Saïda's act?•