weekly

Damian's POV

Mum was asleep when I entered, so she didn't see my initial horrified reaction to her lack of hair. Maybe it was better she didn't, because I knew how much my mum cared about her hair, like most women did. She cared about her hair more than I cared about mine, which was saying something, and now it was all gone. It had been gradually falling since she started the chemo, but only in small clumps that were barely noticeable. For the past few days, however, the hair on her head was shedding so much you could see patches of her scalp, and it wasn't just the hair on her head that shed - her arms and legs were also becoming hairless.

The nurses had said the chemo affected the hair follicles somehow, and it would take three to four weeks for hair to fall out. It had been over three to four weeks now, but it was still hard for me to see her like this - looking like those patients you see in movies who have cancer. Without hair, my mother was barely herself anymore.

As soon as I sat in the chair Mum's eyes opened, and she smiled at me. "Like my new look?"

I swallowed back the lump that was forming in my throat, and forced a smile, hoping she didn't notice that I was trying not to cry. No, Damian, don't you dare cry, not in front of Mum, I mentally slapped myself.

Mum rubbed her own hand over the smoothness of her newly shaven head, the wires of the drips rising with the movement. She was connected to so many drips, and she had a nasal cannula in to help her breathe. She let me try it once, but the nurse walked in on us and told me off. It was the purest oxygen I had ever breathed.

"I miss it already," she murmured melancholically, her blue eyes distant.

"Mum, you still look beautiful without it," I complimented her in a soft tone. I didn't know what it was about hospitals, but they made me want to lower my voice.

Mum beamed at me, lowering her hand slowly. Then her eyes brimmed with tears, and I ended up by her side, holding her in my arms.

"Oh, Damian," she sobbed, and I tried to hold her as gently as possible, because she was fragile, and I didn't want to suffocate her. There was this pain in my heart - some people thought I didn't have a heart, but here was proof of that - and it was only relieved when a tear slipped from my eye, and I wanted to curse myself for letting that happen, until I realized that it was okay. It was okay to cry, and Mum and I cried with each other for a little while, silently cherishing each other, cherishing life, until we had no more tears to cry.

I handed Mum a tissue which she used to wipe her cheeks, and I used the back of my sleeve to get rid of my tears. I had a right to cry, didn't I?

"I promised myself," Mum croaked, bundling up the tissue in her hands. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry in front of you. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," I assured her, clearing my throat. "It's good to cry."

As soon as the words left my lips, I started to believe them. And I think Mum did too, for her blue eyes filled up all over again, and she blinked them down. "I love you so much."

I nodded. "I know."

Mum chuckled. "My son, the know it all. But you really don't know how much I love you, do you?"

I shrugged. "I'm guessing the answer to that is no?"

Mum closed her eyes. "You will never know until you become a parent yourself."

"What if I never become a parent?" I challenged.

Mum opened her eyes, and she frowned at me. "God forbid, Damian. I want you to get married someday and have kids. I want you to have more than I could ever have in my life," she said almost wistfully. "You know, I always wanted to have four kids, but unfortunately, God didn't plan it that way for me."

"What do you mean?" I asked. If she wanted four kids, she could've just screwed my dad four times. Easy as that, right?

Mum sighed, glancing down at her hands. "We were going to have another kid before you, Damian. But I had a miscarriage. We tried another time, but the baby died when it was barely four weeks old. When I got pregnant with you, it was like a gift from God. You were born perfectly healthy, and we finally had a son," her face lit up as she described my miraculous birth, and I had to admit I was surprised. Mum never told me she had miscarriages before I was born. I never even knew she wanted more kids - I always felt cursed that I was an only child. I had to play with other kids in the neighbourhood to make up for my loneliness, and I always craved a sibling, someone to look out for me and someone to play with. I was jealous of the friends I made who had siblings, wanting to be their friend but secretly hating all of them. Maybe if I had siblings, I would've been a better person, less bitter, less cynical, less...me.

"We tried once again when you were three years old. Your father and I wanted you to have a little brother or sister, but unfortunately, that never worked out. I was too stressed, balancing my job and raising you, and I wasn't getting enough sleep, and I was smoking more than ever," Mum grimaced as she said this. "I was only thirty three, but my body was forty three. I wasn't healthy enough to have another baby. You were the first and last, and that's why I love you so much, Damian."

"Shit,' I muttered, fighting the stupid prickly feeling of tears. They just kept coming back, and Mum's stupid heart-touching story was threatening for them to return. I felt guilty for some reason, as if I didn't deserve Mum's unconditional love. She loved me not just because I was her son, she loved me because I was her only son, the only one in the whole world.

I looked up at her, taking in her thin frame drowning in a spotty blue hospital gown, the sheets draped at her waist, the ventilation system in the hospital keeping the room cool from the heat outside. It was mid-March, and yet we were still experiencing hot humid days.

"Thank you, Mum," I said finally, realizing that I should've thanked her a long time ago for putting up with me. I wasn't the best son in the world - in fact, I was pretty shit. I guess mum's illness woke me up big time, because I wasn't even going to parties anymore. Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same for drinking. Dad kept beer in the fridge, so I'd smuggle a few cans and sit in the backyard, drowning my sorrows and staring at the stars, thinking about Mum all alone in hospital and how she didn't deserve it. Maybe she should've listened to those smoking ads, but I wasn't blaming her. No, I couldn't blame my mum, even if I wanted to. I was blaming God. What kind of atheist was I, blaming God for all my problems? A pretty shit one, that's what.

"For what?" Mum cocked a pencilled eyebrow amusingly, forcing me to spill my guts.

"For being my Mum, duh," I rolled my eyes, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. I wasn't a feelings kind of guy. Admitting my feelings was like admitting I had an STD to the whole school - embarrassing. Maybe that's why I could never commit to a relationship with Sam. She was hot and all, but I couldn't deal with all the shit that came along with her hotness. Girls wanted to be treated like human beings with feelings, but sometimes it seemed like that's all they had - feelings. The never saw logic in things, they were always moaning and gushing and laughing at everything I said, desperately clinging on to me. The only girl I could afford to love right now was my Mum.

"Is that all?" Mum pressed, and I knew what she wanted to hear. What every mum wanted to hear from their only son.

"And...I love you," I blurted quickly, biting my lip, and Mum wheezed a laugh, not too hard since she was still sensitive in the chest, but hard enough to let me know that she heard me, and she understood.

I was glad she had heard me, because no way was I repeating that again. I love you. Those three words would be the death of me, and it was only for that reason that I said them to Mum, to give her a little life.

***

Mariam's POV

As we neared the end of term, homework piled up, and on top of that I had to balance my volunteer shifts at the hospital as well as my training sessions with Theo, which became even more regular. Three times a week we were obliged to meet up and work out, and though it was a strenuous process, Sam, Denise and I noticed an improvement in our fitness and overall health. I was getting toned up - not that anyone noticed under my clothes, but it felt good to have more definition in my muscles. The few I had, anyway.

It finally came to the day we had all been waiting for, the second last week of term on a Friday: Luna Park.

I was so excited I was dancing in my seat on the bus beside Denise, Ms Jamieson's class coming along with us for the excursion. Denise slipped in her earphones to listen to music, so I decided to listen to some Quran. I had finished the entire Kitab last night, and as soon as I did I had called Fatima, who was still halfway through Juz 'Ama. I guess I wanted to rub it in her face that I had finally beat her, but she just said, Masha'allah and hung up. I had to admire her for being a good sport, but it was only fair I won this time out of the three years we'd been doing it.

It took us forty minutes to get to Luna Park, which was in St. Kilda right on the seaside. As soon as I saw the big gaping mouth I squealed with excitement, gripping Denise's arm and breathing quickly. She rolled her eyes at my excitement, probably thinking I was childish, since she had been here a couple times before, but I knew deep down she shared my excitement too. You couldn't not get excited to go to Luna Park.

Ms Jamieson clapped her hands to gain our attention at the front of the bus, and our chatter ceased along with the engine. We all stepped off the bus, thanking the driver on the way, and gathered at the gates. Before we could go in, Mr Newton and Ms Jamieson had to organize our groups. We would be travelling in groups of four to each ride, and we were to stay with our three members at all times.

Of course, Mr Newton already organized our groups prior to the event using his trusty trilby hat of doom, so he just read off from a list he collated the names for each group. When I heard Denise's name for Group 2, I sent a prayer to Allah so I could be in that group too. But then I heard Damian's name, and I cringed. In order to be with Denise, I would also have to put up with him. Aidan's name was called next, followed by mine. Well, it could be worse. At least I was with Denise.

"Let's go on the Power Surge!" Damian suggested, pointing up to the ride that spun people twenty metres in the air. Unfortunately, it was on the list of rides we were required to go on in order to complete our booklet, and we had to go on at least four rides.

"Yeah!" Aidan hollered, pumping his fist and already moving through the crowd toward it, so Denise and I had no choice but to follow them.

"I hope I don't get too dizzy," I said as we waited in line, watching the riders screaming and twirling in the air. I was more excited to go on the rollercoaster, since I've always wanted to try one.

"It's inevitable," Denise shrugged as we crawled closer and closer. I was glad to see Damian's eyes bright and alive with excitement as he gazed up at all the rides, his face devoid of any sadness or pain. In fact, for the last few weeks he had been back to his happier self, enough to start annoying me again with his endless innuendos and egotistical remarks. But one thing had changed, though. He was more concentrated on his studies. I'd find him in the study hall in free periods, doing his homework, and in Physics he was getting high marks on all his assignments. However, since my suggestion of reading the Quran, Damian didn't speak to me about religion anymore. It was as if he had completely forgotten our bet, and in a way, I had sort of forgotten too.

The Power Surge didn't give me a surge of power, but rather a surge of nausea. But after the initial shock of being strapped to a ride that flipped me upside down and made my head spin, I found myself screaming along with everyone else. Denise was immune to dizziness, lucky thing, so once we were back on the ground her cheeks were flushed and she looked pumped.

"That was hella cool!" she exclaimed.

I smirked. "You sound like Theo."

At my casual remark Denise reddened even more, and before I could wonder why Damian slung an arm around me and Denise, announcing that we were going on the Coney Island Top Drop.

"You could've said that without invading our personal space," I said, removing myself from his arm, Denise doing the same.

"Whatever, let's just go. I want to try all the rides before we go," Damian said, sounding like a little kid and even looking like one as he hopped up and down on the ball of his feet, his pen tucked behind his ear. Aidan's hair was long enough to sport a mini man-bun, something I'd rather not comment about because it was just so cringe-worthy. We all approached the Top Drop, and as I craned my neck I began to understand why it was called Top Drop.

"I love this one," Denise rubbed her hands together as we queued.

"Same," Aidan agreed. He too had been here before. It was funny how Damian and I were the only two who hadn't been before, and yet we were complete opposites. I'd think that he would've gone, since he was more of a wild adventurous type, while my parents were reluctant to even take us to the beach because of all the 'harams' our eyes would see.

We were strapped into the seats, and I was squished between Denise and Damian, trying to breathe without sounding like I had asthma because we were about to be dropped from thirteen metres, and that was basically like a four storey building, higher than our school.

"You nervous?" Damian turned to me with a grin. For someone who had never been on these rides, he sure was pretty chill about it, like he did this everyday.

"Are you?" I shot back to take the attention off me. I didn't want to admit that I was, even though the chances of us dying on this ride were very miniscule.

"I'm psyched," Damian cried, adding a, "Whoo!" that Aidan seconded on his left. Slowly, we began to rise, metre by metre, and I watched the world shrink beneath us, all those tiny little people watching us from the safety of the ground.

Denise squeezed my hand beside me, and I realized that you could be the most experienced Luna Park goer in the world, but that didn't mean you didn't get even a little bit scared. I squeezed back, exhaling and inhaling while murmuring, "Bismillah tawakaltu 'alallah." Better safe than sorry, right?

We reached the top, and Damian peered down beside me, muttering, "Shit, we're high."

"Having second thoughts?" I teased hypocritically, marvelling at the proximity of the clouds. I felt like if I could reach out, I'd touch one. It'd probably feel cold and wet, contrary to my previous beliefs of clouds being made of cotton, or even vanilla ice cream.

"No," Damian denied, leaning back in his seat and exhaling heavily.

"It's been a while since I've done this," Denise said beside me, her voice a little shaky. "As a kid I was stoked, but now I think I'm gonna throw up."

"Please don't throw up," I said at the same time Damian said, "That'd be hilarious."

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "Hilarious?"

Damian shifted his face to me, startling me with his blue eyes, reflecting the sky above us. "Yeah, cause then the vomit would spray out in the air and land on all the people below," he chuckled.

I shook my head. "You are sick."

"Actually, I feel pretty fine, thanks," Damian grinned as I heard a countdown begin. Oh, God. Ya Allah. Protect us all. I really didn't want to die because of a stupid theme park ride that failed to work. Especially next to Damian Brewer.

I closed my eyes at the last count, and then we began the heart-dropping descent to Earth. As we all screamed - even Damian screamed, which I would've laughed at if I wasn't pretty terrified myself - I thought of the Prophet (SAW) and his dream of ascending the seven heavens. Surely when he returned to Earth it was less terrifying than this? Of course, I was no prophet, but I did have one thing in common with him, and that was my trust in Allah. The ride might be controlled by some theme park employee, but it was Allah who guided his hand in order to ensure our safety.

When we reached halfway, we were suddenly propelled upwards again, and then down, and then up again. I tried to think of the physics of these movements to distract me from the churning in my stomach, but it was difficult with all the piercing screams. Denise might be a quiet person sometimes, but she sure knew how to scream.

When the ride was over, I hobbled off to where we had left our worksheets, tempted to kiss the ground. Instead of risking contracting some horrible disease, I filled in the questions associated with the ride while my group did the same, and then we moved on to one more ride before lunch - the Pharaoh's Curse.

More upside down, struggling to hold hijab so that it didn't fall off moments until we were back on the ground, heading towards the food court. It was noon and a few other groups from our Physics class were there, filling out their sheets while eating fairy floss. It was Aidan who had suggested we do all the nauseating rides before we eat so that we wouldn't throw up, and it was quite a smart idea for a guy with a man bun.

My lunch consisted of fairy floss and a large order of fish and chips, which I had to share with Denise because it was too much for me. Damian thought it appropriate to nick a few of my chips, but since I couldn't eat it all anyway I relented, sharing with the boys. Denise pulled out her phone and took a few selfies with me, a couple which Damian and Aidan photobombed. If Denise was like Yaz, she would've been ecstatic that she had a photo of boys like Damian and Aidan, and would've definitely showed the pics off to her friends, proof that she had hung out with them. But I knew Denise would just keep it to herself, with the exception of showing Yasmine and Theo, of course.

My favourite ride was the Sky Rider, which was basically a Ferris wheel. Call me an old lady all you want, but I enjoyed the peacefulness as we rotated, the spectacular view of the ocean and the city and the entire theme park breath-taking. Of course, the ride would've been better if Damian and Aidan weren't there too, doing commentary on everything they saw.

Denise and I took a couple selfies, our faces complimenting each other side by side. Denise had beautiful blue eyes and pale skin, whereas I was olive-toned with large dark eyes bordered with dark lashes. Denise was pretty, but a lot of people didn't notice that because they overlooked her as 'just another redhead.' The same way everyone overlooks me as 'just another Muslim.' How sad this world has become, never looking deeper into the picture.