The Imperials

Anonymous

I laughed. "Yeah, see ya at school."

"Assalamu Alaikum,"

"Walaikum Assalam," I answered, ending the call. 

Was I doing the right thing? Was there someone hunting me down?

I got out of my car and staggered up the last steps of the porch and into the house after a long day at school, struggling to take my shoes off.

"This is like Umme Q's thirtieth suitor," Dad scoffed from the living room, his voice loud enough to reach my ears. Immediately the warning bell began banging off in my head, and I knew I entered at the wrong moment. If they saw me, I'd be their next target. Since I was almost eighteen, they saw me as an eligible candidate for marriage since they were married off at a similar age.

"Correction, tenth suitor!" Umme Qulsum snapped. 

I froze standing in the foyer, my eyes darting in every direction from the marble tiles to the door. How was I going to leave the house without making the floorboards creak or without the door clicking shut behind me? Oh Allah, why have I entered the house now?

"So marry him!" Gramma argued. Wait, gramma was here?

That means they've all got Umme Qulsum surrounded good. She was definitely their prey, and no sooner I would be hearing her plotted marriage date ready. If I made my grand entrance now, I would be a victim of it as well.

I was doomed.

"He has the largest nose!" Umme Qulsum scoffed, her voice dramatically loud enough. 

"Nose, seriously Qulsum?" Gramma yelled. "This is ridiculous! The last one was big feet--"

"Well, she's a picky one. She's checking out all her suitors, even their feet." Gramps joked, his laughter echoing around the house.

"Daaad!" Umme Qulsum whined. I was pretty sure she was beet red by now for getting caught for checking out guys. 

"Who cares if they have big feet or big nose? You're marrying this one!" Gramma declared. "He's a hafiz, some distant relative to Nuh, and I don't care if he has his nose sharp as a mountain. You're marrying him!"

"What if he's pimply?" Umme Qulsum asked innocently, her voice soft and inaudible for me to hear.

Dad and Gramps bursted out laughing, but Gramma soon silenced them. "This is serious!" 

"I mean... I'd do the same thing if I were Umme Q." Dad laughed. 

"Enough, stop supporting her. She'll never get married like this, she's already twenty now. We pampered her too much! Next guy, I don't care if his pimples are as big as the hill or his nose as sharp as the bull's horn, you're marrying him. Understood?"

"Come on, mom stop being so unsympathetic--"

"Harun, stop eavesdropping and come out!" Dad shouted, and I immediately jumped up like a deer caught in headlight. Crap, how did dad know? 

Forcefully, I sauntered towards the living room plastering a forced smile. Gramps and Gramma were seated in one of the three seated couches, Umme Qulsum and Dad took the other one, while mom just sat on a chair and listened to the raging arguments with boredom. "Assalamu alaikum!" 

"Ah yes, my boy Harun, we need a bride!" A threatening smile broke loose on Gramps's lips. Oh wow, right on topic without a beat!

 I really gotta flee from this zone before they literally brought in the bride and red carpet. 

"Oh, but I think gramma is already enough for you. No need for second marriages!" I played Musa's cards here, flipping the question back at him. 

"No, no, it's for you--"