The Two of Us

Chapter 4 - Anything

Chapter Four - Anything

Khalid sighed as he exited Tim Horton's with a bagel and Iced Coffee clutched in his hands. He looked down at them sadly, unable to muster up his appetite. It'd been destroyed somewhere between yelling at Luke and being disgusted over the injustice of it all. The man was blind, for Allah's sake! You don't cheat a blind man!

"That was pretty cool what you did back there." Jamaal said, catching up to him as they made there way to Khalid's truck.

"Hmm." Khalid mumbled halfheartedly. I did it because it was right. Not cool.

Jamaal shot him a confused look and silently got into the truck. When they arrived at Capilano, he had successfully gotten Khalid's mind off the whole situation and was imitating his mother when she'd woke him up for fajr that morning,

"And then she was like, 'I'm not gonna use force, but if you don't get up then I'm gonna spill a glass of water all over your face'!" Jamaal mimicked.

Khalid's head rolled back as he laughed, while Jamaal went on.

"And then I was like, 'Maa! That is force!'" Jamaal went on, taking on the look of an exasperated person, waving his arms around like a windmill.

Khalid shook his head and snorted. "First of all, I don't believe for one second that you have trouble waking up for Fajr."

Jamaal stared at him, making Khalid feel a bit uneasy. It was as if he'd suggested that the man on the moon was real.

"Seriously?" Jamaal said dryly. "Just because I wear a thobe and have a beard does not mean I'm the perfect Muslim. Its hard for me too, because I'm just human."

Khalid fell silent and mentally smacked himself. There I go again, he thought. Judging people by the way they dress. He'd always had a problem with accepting personalities vs. appearances. If someone dressed like a alim, he must be an alim. If someone dressed like a druggie, he must be a druggie. Maybe that was why Khalid dressed and behaved as un-Islamic a possible. He didn't want to be seen as something he wasn't.

And lets face it, he thought. I'm not a good Muslim. He never prayed, never fasted. The last time he'd been to the mosque was at Eid...but that was because of another reason. But still...even without that reason, he still wouldn't have gone to the mosque voluntarily. He never read the Quran, and doubted that he still remembered how to. Khalid was trying to remember the steps of making wudhu, when Jamaal interrupted. 

"Well, see ya later." Jamaal chirped, oblivious to Khalid's inner battle. "Assalamu'alaikum."

"Walaikum'asalaam." Khalid mumbled, watching his friend walk away.

Khalid began to walk to the library because his next class didn't start in another hour. He resumed the debate on the wudhu process but was interrupted again by a loud smacking sound. Irritated by the second distraction, he whipped around and saw Hiba Abed, looking up at him with her trademark duck face. He sighed and looked away. He'd been avoiding her for months now, ever since he decided that he wanted to marry Sabrina. She was currently chewing gum as loudly as possible and glaring at him.

"Babe." Hiba, whined, her high pitched voice making his ears ring. He wondered why he ever found it attractive. "Why don't you talk to me anymore?"

"Why should I?" Khalid asked, dryly, still staring at anything but her. "I told you: we're over."

He saw her lean into him from the corner of his eye and stepped backwards, knowing full well what she was trying to do.

I will not look at her, he chanted. Curse her for wearing low cut tops! Somewhere, in a book called How To Turn A Guy's Brain To Mush, there was a whole chapter dedicated to low cut tops and cleavage and Khalid was pretty sure Hiba was the author of the whole damned thing.