Riyad really couldn't tell the difference between red and green apples. His initial theory was that the red ones were sweet, simply because he had never eaten anything red that was sour. With the same logic, he settled on the green ones tasting the opposite. The theory, however, quickly dissolved once he bit into a green apple that tasted anything but sour. Grapes! How could he forget about grapes? Frustratedly, he put the whole theory to rest and it was never to be picked up again. Well, until now.
To say that Riyad was having a bad day would be an understatement. To say that his day was just as bad as the day when his aunt Nur had passed away would be an exaggeration, but he couldn't help it. It was almost disrespectful, but the feeling of his gut being choked and the fleshy pain of fish bones stuck in his throat were the exact feelings he was dealing with as he laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling. To make matters worse, the feeling of loss was just as painful, except this time, nobody passed away, but a part of him did.
To put it bluntly, Bibha rejected him. Well, why would she not? She had never talked to him nor had she ever met him. They were both in Eleventh grade, but they only had English together. Even then, she sat on the front, while he daydreamed about her in the back.
Was Riyad aware of his situation? Absolutely, but as the school year crept to the tail of the summer break, some crazy determination took him over. Class time would be spent daydreaming about all the amazing ways he could ask her out. He daydreamed about her so often, he could not imagine a scenario where she could reject him. He would practice how he was going to ask her out like a ritual that was to be performed during the walk to school and home and of course, when he would see her in the distance.
"Hey, you know what your eyes remind me of? Honey. Let me be your sugar." " Hey, do you remember me? I was in your dreams last night." There were more, but before he could finish reciting them all, he would usually end up bumping his head onto a pole and embarrassing himself.
The moment Bibha did reject him, however, was the moment all the illusion shattered around him and revealed the reality hiding behind. It made him realize the fool he had made of himself. What was he thinking? Why would she even say yes to him? He was not even close to being six foot nor would he consider himself handsome. His black hair was no special and his ordinary-sized lips were unable to make him stand out. The only thing that was going for him was his mellow smile, which would only come out on rare occasions. If only he had the confidence needed to approach her like the popular kids and get to know her before rushing into asking her out.
A whole year of daydreaming amounted to nothing but a funeral for his feelings.
The rejection was not even close to being the worst part. The contenders for that either had to be the part where Bibha scrunched her nose and said, "Eww, I don't even know you" or the part where her friends were snickering at him. How a sweet angel like Bibha was capable of uttering such words shattered his heart. She could've at least kindly turned him down. Riyad sighed.
All along he thought she was a sweet apple, but now laying on his bed, he realized that even the red ones could be sour.
Before he could recite the whole day from the beginning again, his eyes laid closed and became sealed with his dry tears. It was almost three in the morning and his body was all out of fuel and tears. Soon after, Riyad started snoring—almost as loudly as his mom next door.
He began dreaming of Bibha texting him and telling him that she wanted to give him a chance. He then took her to the park across from his apartment and climbed the mango tree together. He also dreamt of his aunt, Nur. She patted him on his head and told him that everything was going to be alright.
The next dream was a strange one. He was laying on his stomach on a grassy field. The grass tickling his nose felt so real that he could almost sneeze. It was a sunny day and the sun was directly above him, but the light felt soothing and calm. What a nice dream, he thought as he tried to make his real self more comfortable on the bed, but only to end up uncomfortably rubbing his body on the grass.
He slowly sat up. A stream gargled close by his left arm and there were plants sparsely scattered to his right—trees that looked like they were at least a hundred years old. He was a little taken aback by how real it all felt. Was he lucid dreaming? Did he finally lose his mind from the rejection and now, his mind was rejecting reality and hiding deep within his dreams?
"No, this isn't a dream. This is real!" Riyad yelled out loud in shock. "What am I even saying...Impossible."
He ran his palm over his forehead and caught some sweat on it. It was cold. He could feel it. He ran his fingers through the grass and he thought he could almost smell the wet soil.
No, this has to be a dream. That was his last thought before he laid back down with a forced yawn and closed his eyes.
It didn't take him long to fall back asleep. Once he was awake, Riyad didn't even have to open his eyes to realize that he was back in his room. It was dark, unlike the sunny field he was on. He could hear the low hum of the fan pointed at his feet and his mom was snoring as loud as ever. He sighed in relief and went back to sleep. He didn't want to waste any more of his energy or time dwelling on the strange dream.
After a couple of hours (or at least, that was what it felt like to him), Riyad woke up once again. He kept his eyes shut, but the red of his eyelids was enough for him to realize that someone had turned on the lights. He guessed that it was probably his dad getting up to get some water—one of the shortcomings of sleeping in the living room. He waited to hear the heavy footsteps of his dad, but nothing came. He also noticed that the light felt different. It was warm. He tried to pull the blanket over his head only to realize that he had no blanket over him.
"You've gotta be kidding me!"
He was back on the field. He shielded his eyes from the sun as he cursed. His body was too exhausted for him to be able to do anything other than laying under the sun.
This has to be a joke, thought Riyad. It had to be a sick joke of Irfan. His brother was a senior at the same school he attended. Irfan must've somehow found out about Bibha and now he carried him to this field as a prank, while Riyad was asleep. He wasn't surprised. This was not the first time he had done something like this. He lost count of how many times he had woken up to a bucket of ice water on his face.
Without moving, he yelled out, "Alright! You got me Irfan. You got me pretty good, not gonna lie! You can come out now before I turn your face into a rotten tomato!"
How was he even able to carry me? He's like the same height as me. Even if he could carry me, how was he able to bring me this far? Where the hell even am I? Is it morning already? Thoughts raced around his head as he rubbed his head in annoyance. Despite all the other thoughts contradicting his assumption, he still held on to the idea of being pranked. It was the only option for his sanity. If he was not being pranked, he realized that the explanation for his situation would blow his mind, but then he heard soft footsteps approaching him. Two sets.
That explains it. He freaking brought a friend with him to help him out. He groaned.
"Let me guess, Jacob told you about Bibha, huh?" he mumbled in exhaustion.
No reply came. Riyad slightly lifted his hand from his face and the sunrays sipped between his fingers, obscuring his view.
Two blurry heads came into his vision. He could recognize his brother no matter how blurry he looked. Neither of them was Irfan.
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