Less Than Perfect

{1} A Late Arrival

I wished I could help, but this was a birth. There wasn't much for me to do other than whisper encouraging words to her. 

Hearing my footsteps, she opened her eyes. "Did he answer?" she asked, so quiet I almost didn't hear her. 

I nodded. "Tanwir and Damon are on their way. I called your parents earlier, so they should be here too."

"Thank... you."

Smiling, I held her trembling hands. "No need to thank me for doing my job as your friend. You just focus on pushing that baby out," I joked. 

She laughed tiredly. "That won't be for another couple of hours."

"Even better," I grinned. "You have a couple more hours of daydreaming until the little guy is born."

"I don't think you understand how..." she winced for a couple seconds, squeezing her eyes shut. "That one hurt."

"Yeah, I think they're supposed to."

"Kanza, really?"

I winked playfully at her. "Hey, you're the soon-to-be doctor here, In Shaa Allah (if God wills it) of course, but still." 

Instead of continuing our banter, Amira smiled at me, grateful to have my lighthearted jokes to distract her. We had gone through a lot throughout our time in college from crazy teachers to late night assignments to family drama to our pending futures. There were many lows and many highs.

I never had a friend who cared for me as a sister. I never had a friend whose smile managed to make my whole day brighter. Amira had a special way with people, her gentle nature broke the coldest of hearts, expelled the darkest evils. 

She was perfect, flawless almost. 

A looming cloud of doubt hung over my head, the storm thundering its insults until sinister words echoed throughout my mind, an ongoing glare to the events of my life that stripped that innocence from me. 

My smiles never felt genuine anymore. My heart never felt satisfied with all that I accomplished.

Yet, the more time I spent with Amira and Damon, the more I started to believe in a happily ever after like their's, the more I started to believe in their hope and in Islam. Allah could cure the darkest of hearts. Allah could heal my fragmented one and piece it back together. 

I had to keep trying. 

* * * * 

Awkward was the only word to describe this situation. 

Amira's mother and Damon were in the room with her, the final hours of labor finally approaching after a long, tiring day. There was the occasional scream or exhausted groan, but those would subside after a while. Behind those doors, I had no idea what was going on except that my friend was in pain and her husband was in sheer panic mode trying to comfort his wife. 

Damon even fainted at one point. This man, I thought, shaking my head. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was the one giving birth.

But that surprisingly wasn't the awkward part.

Tanwir sat across from me in the waiting room, his head resting back against the chair, eyes shut, and lips mumbling soft, quiet verses to himself. He didn't acknowledge my presence, let alone spared me any glance. 

Since the first day I met Tanwir when I studied with Amira, he intrigued me. For some reason, his personality lured me closer to my impending doom like a siren's call but reversed. Instead of a man falling into the depths of his desire, it was me, but what I felt wasn't just desire.