It was finally Jummah. The one day of the week that I always looked forward to.
When I picked my classes, I had made sure to not have any after 12 on Fridays so I could go to the Masjid, recite Surah Kahf, and spend some extra time with my friends and family.
On this particular Jummah, my whole family had decided to meet up to pray then get food.
My brother's car pulls into the parking slot next to mine. He gets out of his and opens the passenger door to mine.
"I'm surprised you haven't crashed this thing already," is the first thing he says.
"Well hello to you to," I say as I keep scrolling through my phone. "And I'm not that bad of a driver."
"You crashed my car into a tree while you were on a coffee run." His face turns serious at the memory of his black Altima, Rory, headfirst into a huge tree about a block away from our house back in the states.
"How many times have I apologizes for that," I whine. I truly felt bad about it.
"Just because I forgive doesn't mean I'm ever going to let you forget," he says.
And then before I can react he playfully pushes me and runs out of the car.
"Ahmed," I yell after him as I open my door. "Get your stupid self back here."
"Never," he says as he reaches our parents car and hides behind our mom.
Lord bless. We were adults and still acted like this.
"Ma, Ahmed slapped me," I whine.
"Snitch," he says as he backs away from mom.
"Only when it comes to you." I blow a little kiss with my hands.
"Beshorom. How about both of you stop acting like children," my mom says in that warning whisper scream of hers.
We both look at each other and immediately straightened ourselves.
"Sorry Ma," we both say simultaneously. I avoid looking at Ahmed, knowing that if I did we would both end up laughing.
Dad joins us and gives both of us a hug.
"Asslamu Alaikum Abbu." I smile.
"Walaikum Assalam. I barely see you around the house anywhere, you're so busy."
"When I finish uni this year I'll be home all the time," I promise him.
"Don't work too hard," he dotes over me.
We all walk in together and we split our separate ways.
The boys sit in the lobby as always and the one who seemed to be the leader, Aariz, skims his eyes over me and smirks.
Disgusting.
Omar wasn't with them today. I feel a rush of relief wash over me.
I change my attention to the door where I see a couple walking in together with a girl that looked my age trailing behind. Probably the younger sister.
"Don't they look cute," I say to my mother.
She looks at the couple as they walk into the masjid holding hands. He kissed her on the forehead before they went their separate ways.
"Cyra, don't think about couples, you are still young."
"But what if there's a guy I really like and he's religious and has good income and is respectful and attractive and treats every-"
My mom interrupts my banter. "If you want to move away from me and leave me and your poor father all alone go ahead." Her voice is one of mock sadness.
I laugh. "I would always visit you ma."
The girl I had seen earlier that looked around my age comes and sits next to me.
Upon, closer inspection I recognize her from the cafe. She was a regular and studied most of the time she was there.
"Assalamu Alaikum," I greeted her.
"Walaikum Assalam," she replies. "You work at Petit Paradis right?"
"Yup. You come in to study all the time right? By far my favorite customer," I say to start a conversation.
When did it become this easy for me to talk to people?
Maybe it's just because they're the right people. Soulmates aren't simply someone you marry. Sometimes, they can be found in a friend.
The word soulmate signified that we knew each other in a different life, in a different universe.
I look at her and had this stange sensation of comfort. Did she feel it too?
"Oh you're too kind. What's your name?"
"Cyra. I'm from Bangladesh. You?"
"My name is Razan. I'm from Sudan."
"Have you lived here long?"
"I've been here for 6 years, so I guess it's long enough to consider myself a local," she explains.
We go on talking, getting the formalities out of the way as we exchange numbers. It turned out we were the same age and lived only a few blocks away from each other.
We quiet down as the halaqa begins. The lecturer talks about living an Islamic life and truly understanding how الله SWT meant for us to live.
One thing that stood out to me was the thought of living a simple life. Living a simple life didn't mean not having nice things. It just meant you would repeat the same things as a routine and find happiness in the perks of everyday life.
This way you didn't have to spend a lot of money on extraneous activities. It really helped in appreciating everything God created whether that meant nature or the taste of a fruit.
I pull out my phone and open my notes app. I titled the note "11/26/2021 Jummah" and started writing down tidbits I thought would be useful. I wanted to make it a goal to start living in a way الله would approve of and wouldn't question me for on the day of judgement.
After praying Jummah & the sunnah, I say goodbye to Razan as she rushes to meet up with her older brother and sister-in-law.
Rejoining with my family, we all go back out to our respective cars. My dad drove in front, then me, then my brother. He had booked a restaurant for us to go to for lunch.
After we arrive, the valet takes our keys. We all head inside and are seated at our table.
The restaurant was dimmed and there were candles lit on hanging candles as table placements.
I listen to my Ahmed and my Dad argue over something as I skim over the menu. This restaurant had strictly French items, so I pulled out my phone to translate.
The struggle was real.
I look up for a moment and my eye catches the back of a man with slightly curly black hair. It couldn't be him. I shake my head from side to side and he's gone. Yup, it was just another man. Their was no way he would show up here if all places the same day I come here.
And their was hell in no way he would meet my parents.
"Ma chérie, are you alright?" I look back at the waiter who was now standing in front of me.
Oh. I had zoned out.
"I am. Merci." I smile at her and she nods.
"Can I get all your orders for today? And a little side note that everything here is halal and no wine comes anywhere near this restaurant. The owner is Muslim." She explains.
"Exactly why I picked this place. The owner is a close friend of mine. Very smart businessman," my father says proudly. He had always been one to be friends with everyone.
I converse with my parents for a while until our food is served.
I had opted for a pasta while my brother had gone for something that look liked it was made from fish, either way it all smelled good.
We all eat in silence, something that was common in our family. We would all say bismillah and then enjoy the meal that was at hand with very minimal side conversations.
Dessert was the time we would all talk and argue about whatever we wanted to.
Soon, the time to pay came around. We were all stuffed but somehow Ahmed was able to get up and grab the book faster than my dad and quickly put his card in.
As he was giving it to the waiter, my dad snatches it out of Ahmed's hand. "I invited all of you here and I'm your father. I am the one paying."
I snicker as my brother protests. "But I should treat you. I recently started my residency."
"Residency students are the most broke students out there," I say.
My brother glares at me, "You leech o-"
"That's enough Ahmed. Don't talk to your little sister like that. I'm paying that's final."
"Abbu, it's ok I have the money," Ahmed cuts in.
I internally cringe as the waiter stands in front of us, not knowing what to do.
"What seems to be the problem here," I hear a deep voice say from somewhere behind me.
Oh no.
Please no.
All 3 members of my family look up at the man who stands behind me.
"My son won't let me pay," my father says with a laugh as he finally hands the billing card to the waiter who leaves gratefully.
I slowly turn around to meet the face of Omar. He's wearing a black tux and he has his hair (which did I mention was done in the Asian perm style) made him look really pretty.
Why exactly are you thinking this about this man?
I tell my mind to shut up as I give him a small smile of acknowledgement before turning back around to the table.
"You'll get to pay next time," he tells my brother. He was actually talking to my family, lord bless.
"He can try you mean," I say before my brother can respond.
"That's probably a bit more accurate," he nods. Me and my parents laugh while Ahmed sits there, wordless.
He moves to the front of the table and I catch a glimpse of his card. It read manager. How could he work at his, well basically his dads, cafe and also here both on day shifts? As far as I knew I was the only employee he had.
Apparently my mom had also seen his card. "You're the manager here?"
He nods modestly. "My dad owns the restaurant and he's abroad right now so I come in every week to make sure everything is running smoothly."
Ahhh.
So they were rich.
"The owner is a close friend of mine," my dad buts in. "He talks very highly of you. I'm glad we finally meet."
I internally punch myself. Yup, I was dreaming. This was a dream.
I don't hear the rest of the conversation between Omar and the rest of my family because I'm too busy pretending it wasn't happening.
I'll learn to cope.
I think.
I mean it wasn't even that bad. He was acting civil.
I find myself being led out of the restaurant by Omar, with the rest of my family behind us.
"I'll get the mademoiselle to her car just to be safe," he tells my parents. They all smile and nod like they know something I don't.
I glare at them after Omar turns back around to walk to my car. There was no way they could be thinking what they were thinking.
"Can you open the cafe by yourself for the rest of the day if you have nothing else to do? I'll give you extra pay if it convinces you," he asks as we walk.
"I did have stuff planned but I can go in," I say.
"You don't have to," he side eyes me.
"But I want to. I was going to go on a little study date but she can just come over to the cafe and they can study there. When are you going to finish over here." I eye his eye bags carefully.
"12ish. Why?" I realized that the deepness in his voice was probably due to his tiredness.
"And you're opening the cafe tomorrow at 8 right?"
"I have to go there at 4 to make all the baked goods for the day," he corrects me.
How much did the man work? "How about you go home tomorrow after you finish making everything and then I can work for the rest of the day."
I don't know why I did it, but he looked like he had not slept properly for weeks.
He looks at me quizzically which is exactly how I would have looked at myself if that was possible.
"I insist. You look really tired. Plus I have absolutely nothing to do tomorrow so you would be saving me from a day of unproductivity."
"Are you sure?" He stops in front of my car.
"Yes I'm sure."
"!00% positive?"
"100% positive," I repeat.
"Okay then. I'll come by around 7 so we can close."
"I can watch over Dua too if you want." I say as I remember her. I would be bored all day if I didn't have a companion, so if I was doing this might as well get closer to Dua.
Plus wasn't she the one who had told me that Omar only talked to the group I had seen him with only a few times.
He nods. "She'll go down at around 12."
I realise I'm standing in front of the driver's seat and he's opening the door for me.
Awkwardly, I get in and sit down.
"Have a safe ride, mademoiselle. And here are the keys to the cafe. Don't lose them." He hands me the keys as he closes my door.
"Bye Omar," I whisper. How had I not realised how attractive his french accent was?
My heart is beating loudly against my chest.
Why had I volunteered to do that?
I had a test Monday. I had to study. And what did I do? Give away my Saturday.
I drive over to the cafe as these thoughts swirl around inside my head, the biggest question being "why"?
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ya'll think she's in denial orrr....
life update 2-it turns out my fish can't take a walk -_- going to the emergency room i'll try to write the next chapter soon
word count: 2,141
Date Posted: 02/14/2022