It was She

    By Ana A.

In a world full of over 8 billion people, I am alone. In a country with a population of over 500 000, I am alone. On these islands, for hundreds of years, I have been alone.

It is neither wonderful nor terrible. It just feels… lonely.

I rested my head against the trunk of the coconut palm, watching the sun disappear behind the horizon line, as dusk fell upon us once more. I drew a long, heavy breath.

Villingili was as peaceful as it seemed, especially at night, but on this particular evening, I felt the need for some noise.

I heaved myself back onto my feet and stretched out lazily.

“I should go to Malé,” I muttered to myself as I walked down the empty, dim-lit street. “I wonder how many people are going to take the ferry mirey*.”

I approached the ferry terminal, finding approximately 30 people waiting at the seating area and 5 more lining up to buy tickets at the counter. I gave them a sideways glance. The number of people would have been a problem if I had social anxiety or whatever it is the teenagers of this day and age have, but I don’t.

I stride past the ticket checking officer and take a seat on the white, plastic chair at the far corner, crossing my legs and resting my arms on the armrests. It wasn’t as if he’d notice me, ticket or no ticket. 

Suddenly, people scrambled towards the door as the ferry neared the docks, pushing past one another and fighting to be the first passenger on the boat as if they were stray cats fighting over the last morsel of tuna that some stranger left behind.

“Chill guys,” a yawn escaped my lips. “It’s not like it’s the last ferry for the night.”

***

As soon as I got off the ferry, I shoved my hands into the pockets of my worn out jeans. I moved with a crowd crossing the street, heading to wherever they were going, stepping into the oncoming traffic and observing as they skillfully dodged the speeding motorcycles and cars.

So many people.

I stopped walking, unfazed as vehicles drove through my partially intangible body.

So many voices.

I knew I wanted noise, but why was it so loud?

So many…

Letting out a frustrated breath, I grumbled bitterly, “This is why I hate Malé.”

Over the past two decades, the capital of the Maldives had urbanised itself almost completely – going from an almost peaceful island, with sandy pathways in the place of concrete roads, to a heavily polluted city, overpopulated with people and motorcycles.

If I had to guess, there had to be at least 100 000 motorbikes in that place. Everywhere you turn, you can trust that you’ll see at least ten bikes parked in that direction. It was annoying really. Especially considering the island has an area of only about 8km2.

I made my way onto the narrow sidewalk and was walking down Ameenee Magu when I noticed a small group of boys huddled together, loitering outside a closed shop as they pushed each other around, joking and vaping..

Wasn’t it a school night?

I moved closer to them, attempting to get a gist of their conversation – they wouldn’t see me anyway.

One of the boys took a puff, “By the way, what school does Alya go to?”

“That one international school,” another replied. “Hulhumalé ga*.”

“Does that mean the party is also in Hulhumalé?” a third one asked.

I noticed the smell was unusually sweet and fruity in comparison to the acrid, stale stench of regular cigarettes.

“Yep,” the second boy nodded. “Thursday night, 8pm.”

“Hamza, will her parents be home?” a fourth one chimed in, turning to a fifth one.

“Nope,” Hamza shook his head. “They’re flying to India Wednesday ga for some surgery.”

Number two chuckled, “She has the whole house to herself.”

“Ehenveema*, we can do whatever we want,” the first one’s grin widened with glee.

“Yeah, like–”

“Ew,” I scrunched my nose. “What the hell is wrong with you guys?”

I took a seat on the sidewalk, next to the fourth one’s feet, crossed my legs and looked up at them, “Honestly, y’all are animals.”

“Speaking of,” Hamza crossed his arms. “Do you guys think Aila is going to come?”

I casted him a disapproving look. “With what you guys are planning, I hope no girl even thinks about going to that party.”

“Alhey*, how are we supposed to know?” the third one shrugged. “Why don’t you go ask her yourself maadhama* in school?”

“Or,” the first one suggested. “Text her. Faster reply.”

Hamza groaned, “So you see, here’s the thing.” He buried his face in his hands, “She kinda doesn’t have a phone.”

I quirked a brow, carefully turning my head towards him as we collectively wondered the same thing; how old was she?

“What?” Hamza looked uneasy. “Why are you guys looking at me like that?

“Did her phone get taken away?” the fourth one cleared his throat, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Permanently?”

“No?” Hamza shifted his weight from one foot to another. “She doesn’t have a phone at all.”

The first one tucked his vape into his pocket and leaned against the glass of the shop’s window. “How old is she?”

Now that was a man asking the right questions.

“Sixteen?” Hamza shot him a deadpan look. “She’s our age, you fool! She just has overprotective parents who won’t buy her a goddamn phone.”

“Oh,” all of them said simultaneously, releasing a sigh of relief. “Thank god.”

“But, Hamza,” the third one rubbed his chin. “How is she going to go if her parents are overprotective?”

“Good point,” the first one said, pulling his vape out again.

Hamza wore a blank expression, “I don’t know.”

“Hamza, you’re pathetic,” I pulled myself back onto my feet and stood in front of him. “What school again?”

Hamza turned to his friends, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms. “I think it’s time for me to grab a cab and head home.”

“Already?” the fourth one whined. “It’s only like 9.”

“Easy for you to say, your place is like a 5 minute walk away,” Hamza checked his watch. “It takes like half an hour for me to get home if I take the bridge.”

“Does that mean you’re gonna take the ferry?” the second one snickered.

“I hate you guys so much,” Hamza rolled his eyes and waltzed through me, hopping onto the road and pulling out his phone to call for a taxi. “See you!”

“If I’m going to be honest with you guys, you’re all making this storyline so boring,” I glanced at them and back at Hamza, who was already walking down Ameenee Magu towards Moonlight Hingun. “You’re no better, but I lowkey want to see what you do next.”

So, I followed him home.

***

The next day, I sat down in his room, cross legged, as his mother dragged him out of bed and he readied himself for school. A white button-up shirt, a navy tie and dark trousers. If he had a vest and blazer to match, all he’d need was a woman other than his mother to put up with him and he’d be ready for marriage.

He applied a ton of hair gel and poured on so much cologne that I left the room entirely, waiting for him on the sofa in the living room.

I folded my arms and quietly trailed after him as he left the apartment, trudged down the stairs and stumbled down the pathway towards his school.

“How slow can you be?” I looked over at the phone of someone walking by. “Don’t classes usually start at 7:45?”

As if on cue, he checked his watch, his eyes widening with alarm, “Oh no!”

“So, now you can run?” I gaped at him as he began to sprint down the road, running like a chicken in a marathon, almost tripping on thin air. “Or maybe not?”

“I guess I’ll see you there?” I called hopelessly, folding my arms. “I have never hated another human being more than I hate that guy.”

I frowned. Would I be considered “human” enough to say “another human being”?

He arrived at school with two minutes to spare, bursting into his classroom in a frenzy, announcing, “I’m here! I’m here!”

“I guess I can check your school out while you suffer in class,” I mused, rocking back and forth on my heels with my hands clasped behind my back. I noticed sets of small cupboards outside each classroom.

I snorted, “Tenth grade and they still have cubbies?”

Suddenly, the bell rang and, in the blink of an eye, the hallway was filled with kids.

“Now,” I let out a long breath. “On a scale of 1-10, where ten is the hardest, how difficult will it be for me to find Hamza in this crowd?”

“Alya! Lana!”

I flashed him an unimpressed stare, “Negative two apparently.”

“So,” he approached two girls who were standing near the railings and chatting, clutching textbooks close to their chests. He turned to the girl with a french braid, “When’s your party, Alya?”

“I already told you, Hamza,” she giggled, dusting his shoulder off. “It’s on Thursday.”

“And,” Lana added, reaching out to rub his arm. “You can bring your friends from Malé too.”

“Amazing!” he curled his lips with quiet arrogance. “Is Aila going to be coming?”

Both girls batted their eyes and gave each other a look.

I grimaced, suddenly starting to feel queasy, “Oh no.”

“Of course she is!” Alya snickered. “She and all her friends.”

“All of them?” Hamza raised an eyebrow.

“Of course!” Lana twisted her lips wryly. “What kind of a party would it be without her?”

Whoever Aila was, I didn’t want to think about what was coming for her at the party.

I shut my eyes, trying to focus on anyone else saying her name when–

“Aila!”

Bingo.

I jerked my head towards the girl who called her name.

“Aila!” she ran towards a group of friends standing together outside their class. “Did you hear?”

I spun around and marched in their direction.

“Alya’s inviting all of us to her party,” the girl rambled on. “I’m so excited! What will I even wear?”

“Calm down, Amaya,” the boy standing with them said. “It’s at the end of the week. It’s only Sunday.”

One of the two girls smiled softly. “We can all meet up after school on Thursday and get ready for it together.”

“She’s right, OMG!” Amaya clapped her hands, turning to the girl facing away from me. “Don’t you think so, Aila?”

“We could meet up at my apartment and walk there,” Aila suggested.

I froze, wide-eyed and stiff. Her voice… why did it sound… familiar?

I tried to get closer, to get a better look at her face, but then the bell rang once more and all the students started to head back inside their respective classrooms.

“Why…” I bit my lip. “Why do I feel the need to follow her?”

With no forewarning, the door opened once again and a girl stepped out, “Hold on guys, I forgot to grab my Math homework!”

She crouched down by the cubbies and pulled out a neat file of papers. She sprung up onto her feet when something caught her eye. She spun around and stared in my direction, allowing me to finally see her face.

I could have sworn that time itself had slowed down for that moment.

The gentle morning sunlight reached her dark eyes, transforming them into an indescribable hazel gaze. I knitted my brows. Those eyes… I’ve seen those eyes before.

I looked over my shoulder. There was nothing there. What was she even looking at? Who was she looking at?

Then, out of nowhere–

“Good morning!” she greeted me. Me.

I did a double take before slowly raising my hand and waving back at her, “Hey?”

Her smile grew bigger, “I’ve never seen you around here before.”

I couldn’t believe it.

“Well,” she pushed the door open, holding onto her file with her other hand. “I’d hide before the head teacher sees you out of uniform.”

And, with that final remark, she disappeared into the classroom.

I sucked in a shaky breath, “She… she saw me.”

But how?

***

Eight-hundred and sixty years.

That is how long I had spent trapped in my prison of isolation, incapable of communicating with another person, incapable of being seen by another person, incapable of being heard by another person.

Eight-hundred. And sixty. Years.

But now–

She changed everything.

In a world full of over 8 billion people, it was She… In a country with a population of over 500 000, it was She... On these islands, after hundreds of years, it was She who defied my curse.

But who was She?