Chapter 18 Eighteen

That night, I toss and turn on my creaky bed thinking of Arla and the things she said about Cleo. Can it be possible that Cleo had been acting all this while, letting me believe that she was something she is not? How can a person hide their bad side for so long? I feel like a fool to think that Cleo was my friend. Look at how quickly she dumped me and moved on to the popular clique. She must have been planning this for months. She slowly began talking to them way more than she used to. I had shrugged it off, thinking that she was just trying to be friendly.

I toss and turn in bed, feeling so restless and distraught. Then a light bulb flickers on the top of my head: I have an idea. I reach for my phone on the bedside table and search Malik's number in my contacts list. Because the time is well past midnight, I send him a text message instead of calling. If he is asleep (which he should be) he will get the text in the morning.

Me: Hey, it is Gigi.

I place my phone back on the bedside table with a sigh and lower my head back to my pillow. The schedule for tomorrow runs through my mind: barre, breakfast, classes, lunch, classes, dinner.

I find it hard to believe that I have been following one rigid schedule for most of my life. I wonder how to feels to not have anything pencilled in, to have the freedom to choice a different adventure every day.

My phone beeps on the bedside table, startling me and disrupting my train of thought. I pick it up to see a text message from Malik. Just seeing his name on my screen brings a smile to my face.

Malik: What's up night owl?

I break my knuckles, preparing myself to text back.

Me: Why are you still awake?

His reply drops in almost immediately.

Malik: I am studying. Why are you awake? Does a certain ballerina not need the recommended eight hours of beauty sleep? ?

I burst out laughing, not caring that my neighbours will be freaked by cackling at the middle of the night.

Me: Sadly, this ballerina is an insomniac.

Malik: Oops. Would you like me to sing you to sleep?

Me: Sorry Handsome, not even your great voice can conquer my insomnia!

Malik: Sure about that? My voice is famous for healing the sick and fixing broken marriages.

I laugh at his silliness. I would take an eternity to get used to his funny, light-hearted personality.

Me: Is that so? My insomnia is a curse though. It is tougher than any ordinary disease or a messy marriage.

Malik: Why don't you give it a chance?

I realise that he is quite serious so I text him an affirmative reply

Me: Okay.

Immediately, my phone starts ringing and Malik's name flashes across my phone screen. Giggling like a tween in love, I pick up the call. "Malik?" I say into the phone a bit too loudly.

"Shush." His voice floats in from the other end of the line as soft as a brush of the fingertips.

"Why are we whispering?" I ask in a whisper.

"So you will not wake up your roommate," he replies in an even softer whisper.

"I do not have a roommate," I say with a smile. "Not even a teddy bear one."

"Then I am afraid we cannot be having late night calls," he says in a faux stern voice but I can hear the smiles in his voice. "Not having a teddy roommate is a big deal breaker for me."

I harrumph in false indignation. "So be it, mister." We laugh together, our voices complementing each other.

"Do you want to hear the lullaby now?" he asks when we have been silent for about half a minute, just listening to each other breathing.

"Yes."

Then he begins singing a soft ballad; it is a sad love song about unrequited love. I close my eyes and let Malik's voice consume my mind. It sounds like he is referring to me but that is just wistful thinking. When he is done, I realise that I have been blinking back tears the whole time.

"Gigi?" his voice sails into my ear, waking me from my reverie. "Did you like it?"

I open my mouth to reply but no words stumble forward. Malik's singing has rendered me speechless. So I do something very stupid and rueful; I hang up on him.

When I finally fall asleep, I dream of Malik and I: we are walking hand in hand down a meadow and he is telling me about his hectic school life filled with long lecture hours and staying up at night to read. He tells me how much he loves his job.

I tell him about ballet and how Cleo is leading a double life. I tell him about how Arla is an eccentric character and it seems that she will be a nice friend. Then all of a sudden, a red carpet which leads to a pavilion appears under our feet. I blink and Malik's hoodie and jeans turn into a wedding suit.

The wedding march begins, it seems like there are stereos in the sky. Then Malik is running to his beautiful bride who is standing in the pavilion with a bouquet of red roses in her hands and her long translucent veil that falls to the ground. When Malik finally gets to her, he lifts her veil smiling and I see Cleo smiling back at him from under the veil. They kiss and a priest appears behind them, pronouncing them husband and wife.

I awake up when the sun rays are streaming in through the curtains, I can hear the birds tweeting happily from outside and my heart is galloping painfully inside my chest.