Confessions of a Muslim Girl

Chapter 4 - You Know It's Serious When the Peanut Butter Is Still on the Knife

Peace! What happened to Zak? Aye, the plot thickens!

"What seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise." -- Oscar Wilde

Chapter 4

You Know It's Serious When the Peanut Butter Is Still on the Knife

 ☼ Maysa Malik ☼ 

 I shut the door quietly behind me as I enter my house. I hear some clattering in the kitchen, and I make my way over. I see my little sister Nazia making herself a sandwich, a half-empty jar of peanut butter beside her.

            I greet her with a “Hey, Nazzy,” and she looks up, smiles, and greets me.

            “Didja have fun at the mall?” She nods towards the five shopping bags in my hands, the waxy handles digging into my wrists, engraving purple grooves into the pale translucent skin there.

            I nod and reply, “Yeah. It was kind of hard finding modest clothes but allhumdulillah I found some good stuff. Remind me to take you next week”.

            Nazia opens her mouth in mock shock. “Moi? You’re willing to take…me? Why, is Noha getting boring?” She teases me. It’s true; I usually don’t go shopping with anybody but Noha.

            I crack up and shake my head. Nazia’s sense of humor is what I love the most about her. Our moment is disrupted as the back door, the one leading into the kitchen, suddenly slams open and then closed.

            Zakariya walks in with a scowl on his face and a troubled expression in his eyes. Back before his sudden change, he would have come over and kissed Nazia and me. He would have greeted us, asked us how our day was.

            That’s all changed now. Without so much as a nod at either Nazia or me, Zakariya makes his way over to the fridge. He opens the door and looks inside at the contents. Nazia and I stand there, looking down. We are both quiet.

            Zakariya’s presence has filled the air with tension; the room is so quiet that we can all hear the hum of the refrigerator.

            My brother suddenly snaps, “What?!” I look up, startled. Nazia looks shocked and somewhat hurt. Though Zakariya and I always had our fights, he never fought with Nazia, ever. She was his baby sister, and he put her up on a pedestal, always mindful never to yell at her.

            This new tone in which he addresses her is something she is not used to. Zakariya looks up at both Nazia and me as we remain silent, not answering his question.

            It seems as if both of us have gotten caught up with our own trains of thought. Color is rising to Nazia’s cheeks, something that only happens when she is truly upset, which isn’t often.

            Zakariya notices Nazia’s rose-colored cheeks as well and for a second, his face falls. He reverts back to his infamous scowl so quickly that I wonder if I imagined his change in expression.

            Nazia shakes her head and walks out of kitchen. Her face is down and her eyes are glassy. I look over at the counter and see that she has not put away the jar of peanut butter, nor has she licked the butter knife and put it in the sink.

            Nazia always licks the knife. It’s her favorite part of making a peanut butter sandwich. I make a mental note to myself to check on her later today.

            Zakariya is still looking at me with a scowl on his face as I eye the peanut butter jar. Instead of answering his question, I walk over and put the jar of peanut butter away. I look at the knife, with peanut butter still on it, and I wordlessly look at Zakariya as I wash it and put it away.

            He immediately understands what I am trying to say. I’m showing him how much he has upset Nazia. I look straight into Zakariya’s eyes for what seems like forever.

            Then I grab my things and walk out of the room. I hear the refrigerator door close gently as I exit the kitchen.

☮    ☮    ☮

            When I get upstairs, I put all the shopping bags in my room. After changing out of the clothes I wore to the mall, I go back downstairs to my parents’ room.

            “Ma! I’m home!” I semi-yell as I knock on my mother’s door.

            “Come in, Maysa!” She says back. I walk into my parents’ room. It is the same color as it always has been, an elegant white one white combination with splashes of sophisticated greens and reds here and there.

            “Did you have fun?” is the first thing my mother asks as I walk into the room. I immediately smile as I see my mother’s familiar face. I have not seen her all day, and her peaceful smile fills me with ease after my encounter with Zakariya. It is like coming home from school on a cold, rainy day and slipping into bed with a warm blanket wrapped around me.

            “Yeah Mama, I did! It was really hard to find modest clothes that I actually liked but I think I got it,” I answer.

            “Alhamdulillah, that takes care of your back-to-school shopping, Maysa! Now all I have to worry about are some clothes for Nazia and Zakariya. Allah knows how I’m going to find the time to do that!”

            I laugh. “Mom, chill out, will you?” She visibly calms down a little bit.

            “So…we have a party to attend tonight,” Mom says.

            “Maaa…NO. I don’t want to go…I’m not in the mood tonight!” I pout like a child. I know it’s immature but I’m honestly not in the mood to go out tonight to another one of the mosque parties. As fun as they are, I just want to spend the night in my pajamas watching My Sister’s Keeper. A girl has got to have her dose of Jesse Fitzgerald.

            My mother shoots me a look and I immediately cease my protests. “The Ali family will be there as well, Maysa. This is a final mosque get-together before all you kids start school again.” my mom says.

            I sigh deeply. I’m still not in the mood to go, but if Noha and my other friends will be there, maybe the night will not all be a waste.

            I grumble, but I can’t suppress the smile on my face as I warm up to the idea of seeing everybody before school starts again. “Fine, Ma. I’ll go,” I say.

            She smiles and says, “Great! We have to be there before Maghrib so that we don’t miss the namaz”.

            I nod, “Ok, Ma. I’m going to go pray Asr and relax a little bit, ok?” My mom smiles at me and I hug her.

“Oh, and Maysa, can you tell Nazia and Zakariya that we’re going to the masjid tonight?” I nod.

“Yeah, Ma, I will.” I reply, while holding my breath and trying to maintain an emotionless expression when Mom mentions Zakariya. I don’t want her to know about what happened in the kitchen. Zakariya has already caused her enough pain with his defiance.

I leave the room with tentative hope that Zakariya will somebody be the way he once was and a resolution to text Noha when I got upstairs to vent my feelings and frustrations. 

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Ehem. Comments and feedback anyone? I would appreciate it. Anyway, I'm off to survive the masses of homework that we all have the pleasure of getting when we're in an international academic program.

Salaam,

Ash ♥