Jannah. [SEQUEL TO DAWUD]

Chapter 47: Oolong Tea

In the name of God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful

If the time of prayer has been called and you haven't prayed before reading this, please do so.

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Warsan's P.O.V

I leaned my head against the wall and stopped my thoughts from consuming me. I just didn't want to think anymore. Obsessive thinking exhausted me. I sighed and started to ask Allah for forgiveness, remembering the hadith narrated by Ibn Abbas, who said the Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said, "If anyone constantly seeks pardon (from Allah), Allah will appoint for him a way out of every distress and a relief from every anxiety, and will provide sustenance for him from where he expects not." [Abu Dawud].

I could hear Laith's voice in the other room, laughing with my brother. I tried to focus, asking Allah for forgiveness repeatedly.

AstaghfirAllah, AstaghfirAllah, AstaghfirAllah...

'You already have an older brother Hamza!' Laith laughed.

AstaghfirAllah, AstaghfirAllah, AstaghfirAllah...

'Your parents can adopt me. And then we'll be brothers.' He added.

I got up and briskly left my room. Things were getting strange. It felt like everything was shifting but I didn't understand how. Once I made it downstairs, I turned sharply and tried to make a run for it to the basement before my father's voice called my name. I looked up at him. He was sat in the living room, amongst a set of teacups and Tupperware. My mother's fancy Tupperware. I gulped. 'Assalamu'alaykum.' He said to me grining. I returned the Salam warily. My father looked relaxed. He usually always had a newspaper in hand. Today his palms were empty. They reached out in my direction. I glanced around me. My father was rarely ever affectionate. Was he reaching out... for me? He chuckled before patting the seat next to him. I sat by his side very slowly. My dad turned his body to face me and put a hand on my knee. My mother, who was cooking in the kitchen would peek over the wall and glance our way suspiciously from time to time. My eyes returned to my father's hands which were wearied by age and decades of hard work. I glanced up and watched his face. His eyes were soft. He looked down.

'I invited Laith over for tea. He is my guest tonight.' He spoke calmly. I didn't know where any of this was going, so I waited for him to continue. 'I understand that you don't like to be rushed or pressured into things. Junaid helped me understand that today.' He spoke in our native tongue now. 'So I don't want to do that. But as your father, I need to ask you to do something.' He paused, thinking about his words. Junaid? What on earth was going on today? My father was constantly stagnant in emotion. It was uncommon to see him like this. 'Please, just sit next to me tonight. As my daughter. I just need my daughter to sit next to me.' He repeated.

I felt sympathy for my father. Without fully realizing it, I agreed. And then the night began.

Ten minutes later, the boys rushed downstairs, shoving and pushing and teasing one another. I couldn't help but notice how well Laith fit in with the two of them. Hamza and Junaid surely took a liking to him. The boys sat on the couch across from us and I recoiled into my dad. I wished that I could go upstairs to my room. This was so uncomfortable. It felt like everyone was trying their best to hide the way they were observing my behaviour. Junaid would glance at me swiftly every few minutes. Hamza's eyes would scan my face each time Laith made a joke. Even my father would look down and ask me if I was okay here and there. Everyone seemed uptight about a sudden change in my behaviour except Laith. Surprisingly enough, he didn't even look up at me once. I was glad. It made me feel a bit more at ease.

My mother brought in a tray lined with sugar, honey and a steaming teapot. In a matter of seconds, the room was filled with the light fragrance of Oolong tea. I was surprised. My family only drank chai tea. My father sniffed the air suspiciously and asked my mom what tea she brought. She smiled and gazed over at Laith. 'Our guest brought his favourite tea for us to try today.'

I raised my eyebrows in surprise but kept my eyes glued to the floor. He liked Oolong tea, huh? He didn't seem like that type. He didn't even seem like the type to like tea. I always thought he was a coffee junkie. He gave me those vibes...

'Oolong tea is very good for your health. Good for your heart, teeth and bones. But it's best in moderation of course. Like many types of tea.' He narrated to my family. I nodded without realizing. Again. I was in the living room around everyone physically, but mentally it felt as though I was somewhere, far, far away. I guess I was disassociating. At least that's what it felt like.

'Oh, wow. You almost know as much as Warsan!' Hamza noted innocently. I smirked. That was the closest thing to a compliment I would receive from him.

'I'm sure she has factual knowledge from her nursing degree to put someone like me to shame.' Laith told him. My father chuckled.

'You know, we give Warsan a hard time here. She's so driven to get an education and make a name for herself - much more driven than her two brothers.' My dad returned. My brothers laughed sheepishly, embarrassment laced in their expressions. 'In my culture, it's rare for women to seek work and have the desire to increase their knowledge constantly.' He continued. I sighed deeply. Another day playing the role of the shameful daughter, I thought. 'Yes, we have expectations for her, but deep down, her mother and I are so proud of who she's become.' My father said... to everyone's surprise. Junaid's jaw plummeted, mimicking Hamza's wide eyes. My mother's face exhibited blatant shock, as she sat down in the seat adjacent to my father. 'Isn't that right, Ruqayah?' He proposed.

My mother struggled to find the right words. 'Well, I-I-I mean of course! I'm proud of all my children. But who wouldn't want their daughter to be relaxed... at home... and married?' She returned, subtly glaring at my father. Her cutting words matched her clear expression, which screamed "Don't you turn this boy away from marrying my only daughter." I scoffed, looking back at the ground. That's as far as recognition I'll ever receive from my parents. Regrettably. I could feel Laith's eyes on me.

'You know, if Allah gifts me with a daughter, I'll make sure that she knows that I'll support her endeavours in all matters. The only limit imposed are matters that are haram and disliked.' He articulated. I didn't know who exactly he was speaking to. I wouldn't have dared to move my eyes an inch. I felt the beads of nervous sweat forming on my forehead. I couldn't believe I was feeling shy. 'Allah has blessed you guys with a daughter who studies to help people. Everyday. And, on top of that, she works hard at everything she does! I think that's amazing, Ruqayah.' He added. I blinked, stunned. No one outside the family has ever said this to my parents.

My mother laughed awkwardly. 'Of course, of course.' She replied, in an attempt to be agreeable.

'Fawzan, when you take your wife to the hospital, do you ask for a female doctor?' Laith asked. My father nodded. 'One day, that female nurse will be your daughter. And she'll set the female patient at ease. And she'll wear her hijab to work every day and spread the message of Islam wherever she goes. Wouldn't that be nice?' He urged.

I looked up at my father who was smiling. I had been terrified that he would see that comment as a means of disrespect, but I guess not. My mother watched me with thoughtful eyes. Of course, what Laith was saying wasn't anything new. Junaid and I have been trying to drill it in my parents' brains for as long as I can remember. But it was helpful to have another perspective given. It felt nice to be seen. Finally. Fully.

'This is why I like you Laith. You are a good person.' My father told him. The two laughed. The air was still. Then, Laith asked a question that stunned the whole room.

I gulped.