Various One-Shots from 'Confessions of a Muslim Girl'

The Reality of My Life -- Shazia Ansari

To my big brother -- I would give you the world if I could. Inshallah I will one day. You're like my Rayyan.

Listen up: This is emotional. I hope I captured everything right. Enjoy reading and please let me know if it made you cry.

The Reality of My Life

ÿShazia Ansari ÿ

Sometime around now

          “Dad, I’m back.” Why do I keep saying that every time I come back to the house? It’s not like anyone is ever here. It’s always dead quiet. Dad’s at the hospital working late hours as an orthopedic surgeon and Rayyan is out having a social life or taking one of his sluts on a date.

          I sigh and go up to my room, changing out of my clothes. I carefully avoid looking at my mom’s picture, framed and sitting in the center of my dresser. The tight cashmere v-neck and equally tight skinny jeans feel like a second skin, one I’m glad to get rid of. I know she wouldn’t want me wearing clothes like that.

          What can I do, Mom? It’s not like anybody pays attention. I think bitterly.

          I head downstairs and grab a soda out of my fridge. I check to see if Dad left a note on the fridge. Yup, he did. My heart leaps in excitement.

Shazia and Rayyan,

Working late again. Money is on the counter so that you can order a pizza. Don’t forget to pray and I’ll see you tomorrow. Or the next day, inshallah.

-- Dad

 

          Why am I so naïve all the time? Like he’s actually going to leave a note saying that he’s going to be home early. I roll my eyes and block my sadness out. My mood for a soda is completely gone. Instead, I take a pint of ice cream out of the fridge and get a spoon. I need some consolation.

          My phone buzzes. I check to see who it is. My heart feels like it’s flying when I see it’s Adam.

Yo Shaz, salam. Rayyan forgot his binder in my car. I texted and called him but you know how he is. I highly doubt he’s going to check his phone. Just let him know that I have it.

 

          I smile at my screen. I’ve liked Adam since back in the day, when Noha and I were still friends. No. Don’t think about Noha and what she did. I squeeze my eyes shut but that doesn’t stop the memories from coming back.

          See, I have a huge issue with trust. Back in seventh grade, when Mom was dying, I was still one of those good kids. Noha was slowly falling off the good girl wagon, but her and I had still made this pact that we wouldn’t do anything bad at the seventh grade dance.

          She broke the pact. And that day, our friendship ended.

          Mom was always right – trust, once it’s broken, is impossible to fix. I trusted Noha to be my support system when everyone around us was dirty dancing and getting it on with their crushes.

          I shake my head. Look where that got you, Shaz.