Things Nadir N̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ Said | [MUSLIM]

III

III

Nadir

I was just confused, I think. I can't really tell. I knew that Zaeb had male friends from her university days, and I even knew by name some ex-colleagues from the publishing house she worked at before she had Mishal and Mustafa. But as far as I knew, she hadn't really been in touch with any of them since a rather long time now.

I decided not to dwell too much on who he was and entered with a Bismillah.

Noticing Mishal's plasters again when she came up to hug me, I winced. Then I looked around and found Zaeb standing near the kitchen door, with a mug in her hand. Mustafa was asleep on the couch, and beside him sat a man who I thought may have been of my age, give or take.

He was in casuals, had light brown skin and green eyes, and held a mug of coffee. His posture, looks and expression, all seemed, in a strange way, both impressive and threatening.

"Nadir! Look who's here to visit," Zaeb jumped as I walked further in. She must have read through my blank expression that I was clueless, because she added, "Nadir, this is Sami, all the way from India! I told you about Sami, Saud and Simra! Ismail uncle's kids. My paternal cousins, who I grew up playing with?"

I focused on my memory of Zaeb's family trying to recall his face.

Zaeb and I had been fixed back when we were barely adults - I had just obtained a student visa of the UK and she had just finished her bachelor's. I had met her only a handful of times, upon my mother's insistence on those tiny vacations that I visited home in. We had been pretty plain and honest to each other, seemed to connect, and hence agreed pretty soon on not wanting to wait to get together. The wedding took place in India the year I'd had a decent job for a while and had settled in a proper home of my own.

It was a standard arranged-marriage, but we'd had a bit of time getting to know each other's families, what with the long Indian-Muslim wedding ceremonies. I had come to know Saud and Simra. But Zaeb had told me much later that their oldest brother, the one she had been closest to as a child, had been disowned by the elders of the family because he had married a Hindu woman.

He wasn't present at our wedding, which was why I hadn't been able to place him.

Now I nodded, finally recognising Zaeb's favourite cousin.

He stood up to acknowledge me.

Something about the way he shook my hand, the way he smiled, the way he looked at Zaeb felt odd to me.

But a single look at Zaeb stopped me from acting irrationally.

She didn't just look glad to have someone from her family visit - something I admit she had been somewhat deprived of because of the marriage - she was beaming. The elation clear on her face, the way her mouth was almost twitching from smiling and talking, the cold mug of tea indicating she probably hadn't even had the chance to take a sip - it all forced me to remain with them and at least try to talk to her cousin for a few minutes, instead of fleeing to my room the moment I figured Zaeb knew him. Socialising is something my wife enjoys a tad more than I do.

"Grew up playing with? You grew up torturing us," he said after we had sat down, and Zaeb laughed. "She was horrible, take my word. She's terrorised mine and Saud's childhood, Allah is Witness! She would pair with my sister and draw fruits on our arms with henna, and leave us sleeping with all those hideous scribblings all over us. And then deny it when we told on her!"

They both cracked up, and I laughed a bit, too. By now, seeing how well they bonded, I was just slightly less wary of this guy.

"Sami, do you remember when we stole the shoes at Rayan Bhai's wedding and demanded his bride's earrings in exchange?"

"I don't," he said, looking away as if embarrassed.

"Don't lie!" She cried. "He's a liar, Nadir!" She said, but her eyes never left him. And her grin never left her. "And then when we'd been sitting with the shoes waiting restlessly for the earrings or its worth, Rayan Bhai bribed me to steal his shoes. And when he had them he declared he wasn't going to get them back until - "

Zaeb was cut off by a sofa cushion thrown at her face. "Don't! Dude, I've just met your husband, you can't tell him that!"

" -he did BELLYDANCE IN FRONT OF EVERYONE!" He threw another cushion at her.

"For a thirteen-year-old, I danced like a real pro," he rolled his eyes. "But I think, Nadir, you would better enjoy the story I recall."

I eased around them a bit more once I realised they were too close to ever require much of my input in any of their conversations. Now actually enjoying their banter, I smiled, an indication for him to go on.

"You know she would annoy us so much that we once decided to sacrifice her to the jinn at the local masjid," he paused to look at Zaeb, who began laughing like she was mad, "She somehow managed to lock us up in one of the rooms for about a whole hour, but - "

"More than an hour!" Zaeb cried.

" - the joke was on her. There was a guy I knew who ended up getting locked with us. It was my plan to tell him the story, and make him agree to help us get vengeance."

Zaeb had a grim expression now.

"When she finally unlocked the door, we pretended to forgive her. But throughout the walk back home she kept hearing, 'WHERE IS MY WIFE ZAEB IDREES? I AM HER JINNI HUSBAND.' We suppressed our laughs and he kept at it until she broke down!"

I looked at Zaeb, thoroughly amused.

"Her intelligent eleven-year-old self even attempted to divorce him without letting our families know," Sami laughed. 'I can't even cook or clean,' she'd said at one point."

I laughed again. "That dude went back home, but your smart wife here had nightmares for days, if not weeks!"

"I did not," Zaeb cried.

"Look who's the liar now!"

Zaeb made a face, and I laughed too loudly.

"But anyway, stop this now, and let me and Nadir have a chat. You still talk way too much," he said. "One would think that living with such a tranquil man would make you less jumpy!"

There was a pause.

I was expecting her eyes to meet mine after she was done rolling them, but she never looked up.

The thing was Zaeb didn't talk much; I knew her. The comment confused me so much that it took me some seconds to register the fact that he wanted me to talk, now - that I needed to speak.

Knowing that the sudden, unexpected requirement to talk about unimportant things would cause me to stutter even more than I normally do, I quickly devised my escape.

"Uh, I, uh, have to go; your stories made me for-forget how exhausted I am from work. I do hope to be able to talk more during dinner, though," I smiled.

I stood up, almost proud that I only stuttered once throughout the sentence. Mishal was also zizzing on my lap by now. I shifted her to my shoulder. "If you could excuse Zaeb for a minute, I had something to tell her."

And then, with a nod towards my wife, I wordlessly picked Mustafa up, hugged the two tightly, and turned around to leave.