“About the competition?” Marshal responds, surprised in turn at Z’s question. “Look, we all know about your potential. You’re the best. Your dedication to exercise, your agility and skillset are incomparable, and you know that already. You only need to compete officially. If you agree, we can start some dedicated training.”
“I do understand that, but I only train for myself now, not for any competition. I use my training to keep myself calm and in control, instead of emotionally stressed and destroyed,” Z retorted, as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. “My Angel is no longer with me, so who would I compete for and make money for? I’m content with what I have and what I make for a living. All my hopes and wishes went with Angel.”
“You have far less than what you could have,” Marshal commented.
“Maybe, but who am I to question what’s happened? Now, I’m trying to find peace in my memories and by doing what she dreamt for herself,” Z said while pointing one of his trainees toward the weights. “By the way, thanks for sharing that pamphlet; I’ve started learning Russian over its website.”
“Always a pleasure. I’m glad you’re into something, at least.” Marshal smiled as they parted ways, Z heading toward his trainee and Marshal toward the reception area.
*******
The phone rang on Hype, while Z was looking at his profile picture, his Angel, but AngelInPain had no profile picture. With his headset on, Z answered the call.
“Hello!” Z said.
The voice on the other side surprised him. A female voice was saying, “Hello, can you hear me?” He wasn’t surprised that it was a female voice, but by how much it resembled his Angel’s voice. It sounded as pure and soothing as a young girl’s voice. He closed his eyes, and Angel’s face flashed before his eyes, and her voice echoed in his ears: Hello, Daddy. I’m Angel. Can you hear me? His nostalgia expanded, and he couldn’t hear anything else for a moment.
“Hello, are you there? Can you hear me? Hello!” Z came to his senses, realizing that he was on an audio call and should say something.
“Hello there, yes, I can hear you very well. Sorry for the delayed response,” he said.
“Oh, OK. No problem. Do you have your copy of the Russian alphabet in front of you?” She sounded very concise and professional to Z — wasting no time in pleasantries or introductions. AngelInPain was up for the lesson.
“I’ll open it right now.” Z opened the file he’d received from her when they’d first started. “Yes, it’s open now.”
“I’ll now teach you how to pronounce the Russian alphabet. Once you get to know the pronunciation, we can proceed with basic phrases and so on. I hope that’s fine.”
“Before we proceed… how may I return the favor? You mentioned you’d like to help with your spoken English,” Z replied, with Angel’s voice still echoing in his ears. He was unsure if it was his Angel on the other side, or someone else. He wanted to check but restrained himself.
“You know, I’m a non-native English speaker. I’ve studied English and can read, write and listen, but because English is not the native language here, I don’t get much opportunity to practice with someone and develop my spoken English fluency.” She paused as if she was thinking about what to say next. “I really need a native speaker I can speak and practice with. Most importantly, feel confident I’m speaking correctly and not feel shy about making a mistake when I say something. You understand what I mean?
“Yes, I do.”
“So, I believe that while I teach you Russian,” she again paused and cleared her throat, “I’ll get a fair enough chance to speak English and develop my fluency. Now I have to think before I say something. I mean to say, first, create the sentence and use the right words in my brain.”
“‘In my mind’ not ‘brain,’ and I understand where you’re coming from. Don’t worry. Though I’m not a professional teacher, I’ll try to do my best,” Z said.
“Mind,” she whispered as if she was taking notes. “Please let me write this down,” Z heard her say, and then she continued. “Yes, I’m not a teacher either. This website has people from all over the world that can help each other.”
Angel flashed before Z again — her taking notes about everything Z used to tell her. Z’s nostalgia and anxiety were rising the more he heard and from what he felt too. The voice on the other side sounded like a baby’s voice, just like his Angel’s. It was very soft, pure, and soothing to his ears. Several questions were rising within him — wanting to be asked — but he curbed his emotions.
“Hello, are you there? Sir!”
“Yes, I agree,” Z said, still lost in his thoughts. Before she could say something, Z gathered his thoughts. “You may call me Z.”
“OK.”
He expected her to tell him her name, but she didn’t, so Z asked, “AngelInPain, shall we start?”
“Sure.”
“Actually, my name is Zia Qaiser. You may call me Z. It’s just the letter ‘Z’ when written, but it’s pronounced ‘Zee’ when spoken,” he added.
“OK.”
Z was eager to know her name. Just out of curiosity, nothing else. He was still wondering how someone’s voice could sound so much like the voice that he so desperately wished to hear and couldn’t. He continued listening and continued being stunned.
They went on with the lesson, and Z learned how to pronounce the basic Russian alphabet.
“AngelInPain, thanks! This has been such a productive lesson, and I hope my corrections will be helpful for you,” Z addressed her deliberately, assuming again that she would tell him her name — but to no avail. The tone of their communication would continue to be professional and to the point.
“Thank you. Yes, I took notes for the mistakes you pointed out and will try not to redo.”
“Not ‘redo.’ Its better say, ‘not to repeat them,’” Z commented.
“OK. Thanks.”
“So, when will we have our next lesson?” Z asked.
“Same time tomorrow? I’ll be available if you are?”
“Yes, I’ll be here. So, see you then. Bye for now, AngelInPain.”
“Bye.”
They ended the call, and the first thing Z did, was to open the website and go through her profile. There he found her name “AngelInPain,” the same way his profile had “AngelWithPain.” It had no other info or no picture; her profile was incomplete, just like his. She’d been a member for six months. Some users had added positive feedback to her profile, presumably those she’d helped.
Z went through the reviews, and none mentioned her name. The reviewers all used her username to address her.
But when his eye caught the country name on her profile, that calmed Z’s anxiety — AngelInPain was from Russia.
No, she can’t be my Angel, Z thought to himself as he turned off his desktop. He knew what he’d been expecting was impossible, but wanted something to happen, that he knew wasn’t possible.
Hoping against hope, he reflected, as he looked at his Angel’s picture. His Angel’s voice and the voice he’d just heard over Hype echoed in his ears.
CHAPTER 02
While having a drink of water from his bottle, Z was muttering to himself, “No… it’s not possible,” as both AngelInPain’s voice and his Angel’s voice were still echoing in his ears.
Out of the blue, he heard, “What’s not possible? Is everything alright?”
Z turned around and found Marshal next to him. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just thinking about my Russian lesson with the person I’m learning it from.” He took another sip from his water bottle and carried on, “I’m trying to recall the alphabet, so I don’t forget it. The interesting thing is that most of the letters in the Russian language look like the English ones, but they’re pronounced differently.”
He took a piece of paper out from his pocket with the Russian alphabet on it, and showed it to Marshal, saying, “There are 33 letters in the Russian alphabet: ten vowels, twenty-one consonants, and two signs.”
/> А а
Б б
В в
Г г
Д д
Е е
Ё ё
Ж ж
З з
И и
Й й
К к
Л л
М м
Н н
О о
П п
Р р
С с
Т т
У у
Ф ф
Х х
Ц ц
Ч ч
Ш ш
Щ щ
ъ
ы
ь
Э э
Ю ю
Я я
Marshal looked at the paper and smiled. “It sounds interesting. You did mention you’d started learning Russian. I’m sure you’ll do well. Even after a hard workout with your trainees, you’re still focused. That shows your commitment,” he said, watching Z’s other trainees who were preparing to leave.
*******
While preparing for his language lesson at home, Z glanced at his Angel’s picture and suddenly thought of AngelInPain. The voices of AngelInPain and his Angel echoed in his ears again. He’d struggled all day long with them. He shook his head to let go of the struggle and not be swamped by his thoughts, as he genuinely believed his Angel had already left him.
*******
“You did well in your lesson, especially with the pronunciation. Mostly, people don’t get it right, but you did. Make sure you don’t forget the letters and their pronunciation.”
“Thanks!” Z smiled on hearing this. “I’d like to keep practicing the letters to ensure I have a strong grip on them before you teach me some basic phrases.”
“Agreement.”
“‘Agreed,’” Z remarked. “‘Agreed’ is correct, AngelInPain.”
“Agreed.” Z could sense her noting it down.
“You may either say, ‘I agree’ or ‘agreed.’ Either of these would be better.” Z cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, may I know your name, please?”
There was silence, so he quickly added, “‘AngelInPain’ sounds a bit strange and awkward for addressing someone. Even in the English language, you don’t address someone that way, or in any language, I guess. I hope I’m making logical sense.”
Z was hoping that what he’d said would trigger a quick response, but that didn’t happen, so he continued. “Well, if you don’t want to, then it’s not a problem. We’re here for a lesson, not to be friends. I just asked because every person has a name except ghosts.”
He chuckled. “Jokes aside, it makes for a more professional feel, when you address someone by his or her name. Above all, you should at least know the name of the person you’re in contact with and learning from,” Z concluded. But he was already thinking, It’s of no avail.
“Anyways— ” before Z could finish what he was about to add, he heard it.
“Lena… I agree…. My name is Lena Volikova.”
That voice, which was so like his Angel’s, and had had such a substantial impact on him ever since he’d first heard it, finally had a name.
*******
May 2007 – Thar Desert, Sindh, Pakistan
We’ll both do well. Burn together in hell. The words echo in Z’s ears, and glimpses of a woman flash before his eyes. He mutters, “Madame.”
“What?” the truck driver next to him asks and turns down the music.
“Nothing. How far is it now?” Z realizes he must have been lost in his thoughts and muttered something.
“Since you got in the truck, this is the first time you’ve spoken. You seem to have been daydreaming,” the truck driver says, “and you’re questioning about how far it is? Be patient. It’ll take quite a while to reach the main highway. From there, you can take another vehicle to drop you where you want,” he says as he looks into the rear mirror. “By the way, where exactly do you want to go?”
“Lahore,” Z coughs as he answers.
“Right now, you’re in the Thar, which is in Sindh, and Lahore is in Punjab.” The driver hands Z a water bottle lying next to his seat. “I hope you’re aware of that. If you are, you’ll also be aware that it’ll take you a good while to reach Lahore.”
Z takes a sip from the bottle. His head touches the headrest, and quietly whispers to himself: “I seek refuge in the light of Your face by which all darkness is dispelled. Everything is powerless without Your support.”
*******
8 Months Earlier – September 2006 - Los Angeles, California, USA
“You’ve done quite well,” Lena commended Z.
“Thanks! Whatever you do in life, I believe you should do it with commitment. Otherwise, don’t,” Z said.
“I agree,” Lena said as she coughed.
“What’s happened?” Are you alright?” Z asked as he heard her coughing.
“What?
“You coughed, so I asked if you’re alright.”
“Yes! I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Please take care. Well, I have an idea for helping you practice better. In fact, I’ve got two ideas.” Z looked at the time on his desktop, 5:56, in the morning.
“The first idea is that I’ll give you a topic for you to talk on for five to ten minutes every time we have a lesson. I’ll note down the mistakes you make and then point them out. That’ll help you talk freely and give you space to develop more fluency.”
“OK, and what’s the second idea?”
“The second one is that we can discuss a topic using an interview, or a question-and-answer format for any topic or any issue. That’ll allow you to talk more and enhance your verbal skills.”
“Both ideas sound good. I’m also making a list of words you’ve used in your conversation to develop my vocabulary.”
“That’s good. I could even teach you three new English words every time we talk. I’d explain their meaning and use them in sentences to help you understand them. Learning them will aid your diction,” Z enthused as if he’d just come up with a brand-new teaching methodology and had become a professional English language trainer as well.
“That would be— ” Before Lena could finish, she coughed again…. “great. We’ll start next time.”
“Please take care of yourself. Try a tablespoon of garlic juice, and avoid ice cream and other cold things to make your throat feel better,” Z advised, sounding like a dad or a big brother. With a jolt, he realized he was talking to someone over the internet, someone he had a very reserved relationship with, all very work-like and professional. “Sorry if I spoke out of turn. Let’s do that next time. Till then, goodbye.”
“Bye,” Lena said, as they ended the call.
*******
“They’re still after you?” Marshal asked while he and Z sat together at the bench next to the reception desk.
Z took a deep breath and asked, “How do you know?”
“Yesterday, when I left, I saw them outside talking to you and realized what it could have been about.”
“You’re right,” Z said, as he looked at Marshal.
“What did you say?” Marshal asked.
“Higher, lift it higher,” Z spoke a bit louder, clearing his throat, to address the trainee in front of him. Z had just helped him with a set, so he was keeping his eye on him to make sure he was lifting the weights at the right angle before he answered Marshal. “You know what I— ” Z coughed and cleared his throat again before continuing, “You know what I would have said. My answer’s still the same.”
“That’s what I thought. Have you got a bad throat?”
“I don’t know what’s happened. I had fresh orange juice at breakfast, and since then, I’ve been feeling like coughing. I’ll take a tablespoon of garlic juice to get rid of it,” Z replied, and coughed again.
“Why don’t you reconsider their offer?” Marshal touched Z’s shoulder with his hand.
“The thing that’s the most sublime is the thing that c
an also be the most ridiculous,” Z remarked, as he stood up and headed toward his trainee.
*******
“Hello,” Lena answered the call over Hype.
“Privet,” Z said and smiled. “I tried saying ‘hello’ in Russian.” Z coughed a few times. “I hope I said it properly.” Oh goodness! I forgot to take the garlic juice.
“Yes, you said it right.”
“Kak dela? I want to ask how you are.” This was the first time Z had asked her this question. He did it in Russian, so she wouldn’t feel as if he was trying to open things up with her. “I asked because you had a bad throat last time we spoke.” Z cleared his throat and drank water from the bottle next to him.
“I’m fine, thanks. Your pronunciation is excellent,” Lena replied.
Z coughed again. Before he could say something else, Lena asked him, “How are you?” Was it just to sound polite, because he’d asked her the same thing? Or was it because she’d heard him coughing too? He wasn’t sure.
“Alhamdulillah,” he answered in what came naturally to him as a Muslim when someone asked this question. It wasn’t to confuse Lena. He realized maybe she wasn’t aware of this term, so he went on. “In other words, I mean to say, ‘I am fine. Thanks!’ ‘Alhamdulillah’ is an Arabic phrase meaning ‘praise be to Almighty ALLAH.’ Muslims from all backgrounds frequently use it, and I use it too. It’s central to the Holy Quran, and also to the Hadith, which is the word of the Holy Prophet Mohammad (Peace be Upon Him).”
“Yes, I know what it means. Muslims often use it,” Lena said. “It seems that you have a bad throat now.”
“Kind of, ever since I had some orange juice, but it will get better. I’ll— ”
“Try honey with water,” Lena cut in.
“That’s what you used to make yours better, isn’t it? Thanks. I’ll try it.”
“I think you should rest today, get better, and we’ll have our lesson tomorrow,” Lena suggested.
“OK, as you wish. Thanks. Talk tomorrow. Bye, bye.”
“Bye,” Lena ended the call.
*******
Z looked at the time. It was now 6:15 in the morning, but Lena hadn’t shown up. Z checked on HLP and even looked at his email inbox, as she may have sent him an email. Once before, she’d transferred a document via email, because it didn’t get through the HLP inbox and he couldn’t figure out how to receive it via Hype. There was nothing there.
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