“What do you mean?”
“I am saying, that I think this interview would be crucial for your life.”
“You mean my career?”
Harold grinned.
“No. I don’t.”
Houssam crossed his arms over his chest.
“What do you have up your sleeve Harold?”
“Just go shower boy, and get your butt in the conference room!” Harold scolded, making a moving motion with his hands, and Houssam listened, heading towards the showers, and showering faster than he usually did just because his curiosity had been piqued. Once he had gotten dressed again, he tossed his uniform in his locker, before heading towards the press room, his hair still dripping down his face.
He entered the room, preparing himself for a barrage of reporters with cameras, but to his surprise there was a lone figure perched on one of the chairs, and as he realized who it was, he almost fell over in shock. The breath was knocked out of him, his knees went weak, and he lost the ability to think, let alone speak.
The silence dragged on between them for what seemed like years, until eventually she stood up, extending a microphone in his direction.
“Hana Ismail. The New York Times.”
“Hana.” He whispered, finally finding his voice, and she smiled, her notebook clutched against her chest.
“Salaam Houssam.”
“W…what are you doing here?” he asked, taking a step forward.
“In New York or here at the stadium?”
“Both?” he asked, and she gave a soft laugh.
“Well I am in New York because I got hired with The New York times about six months ago.”
His eyebrows raised.
“That’s what your interview was for?”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
“MashaAllah that’s great.” He gave a low whistle. “The New York Times! Mabrook.”
“Barak Allahu Feek.”
“When did you move here?”
“About two months ago.”
“And you’re here at the stadium today for an interview?”
She nodded.
“Yes. They sent me to cover your latest good deed.”
“Aw man. I wouldn’t call it a good deed.” He said with a blush, and she smiled.
“Highest paid NBA player in history gives two years’ of his salary away to Syrian refugees? That’s a pretty huge accomplishment.”
He shrugged uncomfortably.
“Really it’s not. I tried to keep it quiet, but you know my life is on public display.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
He ran a hand nervously through his hair.
“How is your family doing over there?”
She shrugged.
“They aren’t in good shape, but Alhamdulillah they have the morale and the hope. Just keep praying for them, and all of the other Muslims around the world.”
YOU ARE READING
Twice Upon Qadr - A Shot At Love **EDITING**
SpiritualHoussam Shaykh is living the dream. He is a big sought after basketball star who has his pick of teams, is recognized wherever he goes, makes millions per game, and gets to play his favorite sport for a living. He is even being called the 'Muslim Mi...
Chapter 62
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