Between the Grapevines

15. Khamsata 'Ashar

Harakat helped Riyad down the stairs. He moved much faster than he had the day before now that his body had enjoyed a full night of comfortable sleep. They took a cab to the center of town where half of the townspeople had gathered at the largest masjid to offer their morning celebratory prayer before beginning the holiday bright and early. When the prayer began, the two split paths to move to each of their sections for the short prayer. Once both rakat were finished and the speech had been given, Harakat climbed down the steps with the others to join him once again.

But the yard of the masjid was large and joined with the streets that all joined into it, finding Riyad would be far more difficult than she thought. Harakat climbed the first few steps of the large building to peer out over the crowd in search of her husband's short hair and white thobe in a sea of men who all wore the same pure color. Most of the younger men had grown their hair into long locks that fell to their eyebrows and the older men had bald, hairless heads that reflected the sunlight back into her eyes.

To her surprise, Harakat's eyes settled on Riyad's polite smile in the distance. He stood near the connection of two building walls with a shorter man she quickly recognized as the sheikh that had married them and taken on the role of her Wali. She glanced at them once more to memorize their place before stepping between the crowd of taller men and moving women, gradually making her way toward the two.

She was sure she'd crossed a little over half the path when a shoulder suddenly collided with hers as a young boy raced past, waving excitedly to his friends. He raised his voice while passing to call out. "Farouq!"

The girl stumbled back, her hand flying to her collar as a painful gasp inflated her lungs. Her back crashed into a more stable object before she could fall to the ground but it wasn't the fall that had surprised her.

"Farouq!" A familiar voice had called into her mind. Her mind filled with panic and terror that forced her body to still as if a sudden threat might fall onto her from the skies stretching above. Harakat's heart filled with a squeezing pain that made her grip her dress, every breath becoming more difficult as the threat of tears climbed up her throat. "Get down, Farouq!"

She wasn't sure where the memory came from or who Farouq was. All Harakat knew through the pain overwhelming her mind was that it was the sound of her own voice screaming the name.

But Harakat wasn't shouting after Farouq.

She was standing silently in the early morning surrounded by others who had just left the morning prayer, breathing in the overwhelming scent of a selection of colognes and perfumes. Her instinct was to flinch when a light touch tapped her shoulder. Harakat turned to find the boy who'd just run past peering down at her. "...see you, I'm sorry. Are you hurt?" He asked.

She began to shake her head.

"Harakat?"

Only one person called her Harakat. At the moment, only one person called her anything at all. When she lifted her gaze from the lingering boy, she saw Riyad step past a group of men on his way over. He peered between her and the boy beside her with a slight frown on his features, one that seemed more intimidating than child-like. "Are you alright?" He asked once he stepped beside them, offering her a hand to pull herself off the streetlamp.

"I bumped into her on my way past. I really didn't mean to startle you," the boy explained to both of them.

Riyad replied. "Just be careful. There are children here."

The boy nodded and continued on his way.

"What's wrong?" Riyad turned his attention back to her when Harakat tugged on his arm to lift herself, his eyes scanning her features. "You look as if you've just seen a ghost. Did you get hurt?"