Various One-Shots from 'Confessions of a Muslim Girl'

#COAMG 1,000,000 Reads Celebration!

Well hello and salam! This is the 1M reads celebration piece that I wrote for you guys. Consider it an Eid present as well?

Time: Three years from present-day

• Adam Ali •

Boston, Massachusetts

“Screw it,” I announce, slamming my psychology book shut harder than I probably should have. Stupid freaking exams. Third year in this college routine and I still don’t have the patience to endure the weeks of pre-final exam stress.

            “We’re nearly done, dude. Just Freud and then that’s about it. Come on. Dream interpretation is last.” Holland taps a page in her opened textbook, right on a picture of good old Freud.

            Grant, my roommate and closest friend here, backs her up. “Let’s just get this done and then go to Subway or something.” That’s the only thing getting me through this, this stupid group study session in the library three days before my psych exam. My fried brain really just wants to go home and sleep. My eyes are burning from reading fine print for the past three hours.

            “Fine. We’re finishing up with Freud and then we’re done. I can’t take this anymore.”

            “No pain, no gain, babe.” Holland shoots me a grim smile before skimming over Freud’s theory of dream interpretation. We read in silence for a bit, and then Grant dutifully summarizes the significance and interpretation of recurring dreams and all that stuff while I shut my eyes and try to concentrate on where I’ll be in exactly one month, inshallah.

            Rome. Think Rome, Adam, I command myself. Nearly two months in Rome, studying humanities and the sciences. When I open my eyes again, Holland and Grant are engrossed into their own little conversation.

            From what it sounds like, they’re swapping stories about their weirdest dreams. “Two nights ago I had this really weird dream where I was in the middle of the courtyard and every time I snapped my fingers a different building would just powder up and collapse. Then, I somehow got transported to a rink with three sumo wrestlers and—”

            Holland interrupts Grant from his narrative. “Nah, I can beat that.” She goes on to say something that I don’t really listen to, because I’m wondering what will happen in a week when I go home for the first time in a few months.

            Noha should be back too, I think. Mom’s going to want to celebrate, because other than the major breaks Noha and I are never home at the same time. It’s like our respective universities are conspiring against us, set on never letting us have more than a few minutes on the phone before one of us has classes or studying to do.

            I miss my sister like hell.

            Holland asks me something. I realize she’s talking to me because she says my name but I miss half the question. “Wait, what?” I have to ask so that she can repeat what she’s saying.

            “Any weird dreams lately?” She asks, staring at me intently. Grant raises his eyebrows too, and I suddenly feel put on the spot.

            “Nah,” I respond. They talk for a bit more but soon enough, we’re officially done studying. I pack up my stuff, so thankful that I’m finally done. Allhamdulillah, because I was about to lose it in the library.

            When we exit, Grant’s saying something to Holland and I’m glad I’m not stuck walking in between the two. While we head to the Student Union on campus where the Subway and the Starbucks are, I get lost in my own thoughts, wondering, again, what it’s going to be like when I head home.