PERFECT COLLISION
★★★★★
Aliya offered to show me the way to the bathroom, so I followed as she led the way. The sound of our heels clicking on the floor and Aliya's voice complaining to me about her school project as if I could be of any help to her was the only source of sound as we strode across the wide and lonely corridor. The house was too large, making the distance to the bathroom a journey to the moon. I was finding it difficult to hold it in order not to mess myself up. I was damn pressed!
I kept looking around as we strode from one hallway to the other. The artifacts on the walls were beautiful, large, and magnificent. There was one exceptionally large frame of a painting hung on one of the walls, it was a picture of an old man, maybe an Emir because he was dressed like a Sultan. I liked that one in particular and made an internal promise to take a close look at it once I came out of the bathroom.
Once there, I went straight to do my business. I could feel the coldness of the tiles underneath my feet. The walls in the bathroom were made entirely of mirror glass. I went over to the washbasin to rinse my face, I didn't need to turn on the faucet as water automatically flowed out once my hands were under the tap.
Anyways, Alhamdulillah for the peaceful life I was living even though we didn't have much in my family. At least I had hope that we would one day become wealthy, that was if I worked hard enough. The goal was to become independent and have my own money. I was determined to stick to the process. There was no need to rush, especially when I knew where I was heading. I couldn't begin to take longer steps than I could manage because becoming desperate and jumping any of the steps might ruin everything I had worked for. I was not greedy, I was simply ambitious with high self-esteem.
Once I was done rinsing my hands, I dried them over the dryer and subsequently collected a piece of toilet paper that was hung loosely from the roll where the tissue dispenser had been mounted on the wall.
When I got out of the bathroom, Aliya was gone so I began tracing my way back to the room where the party was being held. I strode the hallway admiring the paintings on the wall. I felt like I was in the gallery gazing at those wonderful images.
My eyes laid on one. It was an image of a grand centaur, holding the earth in one hand, and in the other was a long spear. The earth there was painted in the shape of a human brain and everything you could find on a globe was on both sides of the hemispheres which were separated by a thick dark line that ran through the middle of the brain. It was a weird yet magnificent image. I wondered how much it cost. Whoever painted it was a genius.
What does it signify? I thought to myself, turning around to take my leave, just that instant I felt my face crash hard on something. Before I knew what was going on I heard the sound of breaking glass and a soft thud.
My eyes darted down to the floor to see a broken glass, spilled wine, and a phone lying face-down on the floor next to a pair of shining black shoes. My eyes traced the legs in the shoes up until they fell on cold, piercing eyes, like a pair of crystal shards, glaring down at me.
I stared in shock for a moment and Subconsciously bent down to pick up the phone which I didn't know the brand of but I could tell it was a very expensive one, possibly an iPhone.
I looked up at the gorgeous man in front of me. His tall frame was somewhat daunting. My eyes travelled from his Adam's apple, his pink lips, up to his beautiful dark eyes. My mouth opened slightly and I blinked a couple of times. It was rare that a man's look made me stare, but this man was the epitome of grace.
"Can I have my phone?" The resounding tenor of his voice pulled me back to reality. What was this dreadful aura? His dim eyes were sharp and bitter and so was the energy around him. He seemed pretty hostile toward me, I could feel it in my gut.
"Oh... I'm..I'm so sorry sir." I stuttered "Please have your phone." I spoke with all the politeness I had in me as I extended my shaking hand, passing the phone to him. He reached for it with that stern look still firmly plastered on his face, it was then my eyes met the red stain on his white jacket which was a result of the wine that spilled on him when I bumped into him.
Naturally, I attempted to wipe off the stain. I did that because I was scared and confused by the way he glared at me. It made me uneasy. The moment I stepped close to him, I wished I had braced myself for what was about to happen.
"Hold it right there! I'll do it myself." There was a glint of arrogance in the way he spoke and the way those impassive eyes of his glared at me as if I were a piece of puke. It wasn't my fault that we bumped into each other.
Being the nice me I offered to get rid of the stains as I instantly remembered that there was toilet paper in my hand, the one I had collected from the bathroom earlier. "Sir, please let me help you rid of the stain." I moved closer.
"Did you not hear me? I said I'll do it myself." My body went rigid at the sound of his thick thunderous voice. I felt a surge of embarrassment from the vibration of his voice. There was a great deal of pride in his tone.
I had never been embarrassed in front of a stranger before. Of all the embarrassing moments in my life, this was at the top of the list. It was the king of them all and that was because he was so cold. Ya Allah! He was cold.
"I'm sorry," I said in a soft tone, looking up at those dark impassive eyes once more. Something flashed in his eyes, but he didn't say anything. Our eyes locked and I blinked a couple of times before looking away.
"Oh, it's fine." His tone was neutral. He walked past me, leaving me in humiliation. My pride and self-esteem dropped to the minimum.
"Thomas!" I heard him call out to probably one of the servants in the house. "Come clean up this mess." His voice echoed across the corridor. I could hear the pride in his tone, he was bossy and egoistic.
Toilet paper? How the heck would toilet paper get rid of such a tough stain? What was I thinking?
I was walking away but for some reason, I turned to look at poor Thomas, a bald man, probably in his late forties. He had red spots on his skin like an albino. He was dressed in a light blue long-sleeve shirt, well tucked into a pair of black trousers. The poor man was busy cleaning up the spilled wine with so much enthusiasm.
*****
Finally, I got out of the hallway. I looked everywhere for Imran but he was nowhere to be seen. My eyes spotted Aliya from across the room. She was talking to an elderly woman. When her gaze met mine she beckoned me to come.
I was just a few feet away from them when I heard Aliya saying something: "Inna, she's the one I told you about." I saw both of them smiling brightly at each other before looking back at me.
The old lady looked at me pleasantly with soft eyes. She looked so delicate and small in stature. She was a sight for sore eyes. I don't know how an old woman could be that cute. Maybe I was feeling that way about her because I never met any of my grandparents and never really lived with old people.
When I got close enough, I wanted to greet her by bending down as a sign of respect but she held me by my shoulders before I could do anything. It didn't stop me from offering my greetings to her and she answered nicely by pulling me into a warm hug and plastered soft kisses on my forehead and cheek when she released me.
"Hannan, my dear. I have heard so much about you from my grandchildren and you are exactly as they described you to be." Their grandmother was surprisingly too eloquent for her old age and I liked the way she spoke. I grinned, looking at a smiling Aliya, wondering what they might have told the old lady about me that made her develop such a liking for me at first sight.
"So, tell me, Grandma, what have you heard about me?" I tried being free and acting confident with her because of the affection she had shown me. Although I was a little nervous, maybe because it was my first time meeting them. My heart still ached from the astonishment I just received from Zayn in the hallway. It wasn't something I would forget in a hurry. The memories of that moment would linger in my heart for a long time.
To be very honest, Zayn didn't turn out to meet any of my expectations. I had thought that he'd be a nice gentleman from how Imran had always described him. His disposition wasn't very polite. From the moment I saw him glaring at me, I knew he was prideful. People like him turn out to be complicated to deal with. I knew I shouldn't be passing judgment since he was someone I just met but that was how I sincerely felt about him.
"Oh, don't call me grandma. I'm not that old. Call me Umma(mother). You could be my granddaughter-in-law someday." She grinned and I returned a big one.
"Okay, Umma," I responded shortly, smiling as I saw her observe my looks.
"They said that you are beautiful and I can see that. Masha Allah! He made you amongst the graceful ones." I secretly blushed at her words. My gaze swept her face and took in the small details. By her straight nose, full eyebrows, and fair complexion I knew she was a Fulani.
"I have lived long enough to know a modest woman when I see one. And you, my child, are a modest one." She wrapped an arm around me, pulling me along with her. I saw Aliya nodding her head as she walked by my side.
"Did they also tell you that I'm modest too?" I smiled lightly. I wanted to wrap my arm around her too but I felt it would be disrespectful. She held me close so much so that I could feel the soft fabric of her khimar. That was how close we were.
"No, my child. I discovered that myself." I liked the way she called me 'my child' as though she was the grandmother that I never had. We took slow steps into a large bedroom where some members of the family had gathered. The door was left open so my eyes had already scanned everyone inside before we went in.
An Arab woman was in the room. She was wearing a navy blue abaya with a black veil, thrown over her shoulders. I knew she was Zayn's mother the moment I saw her because I remembered Imran telling me that his stepmother was Turkish and she was the only one in the room apart from Aylin who looked like she was from a different country. She sat facing Aylin on the king-size bed, both of them looked kind of engrossed in whatever conversation they were making. Maybe they were relatives, probably from the same country.
My eyes shifted to a brown-skinned woman who was about my mother's age. She wore a long black khimar. She sat at the edge of the bed near the headboard, wearing a stern look as she stared into her phone screen. It looked like she was showing another woman something from her phone. That one had a dusky skin tone just like Yasmeen. From their resemblance, I instantly knew she was her mother. Some girls that were my age and younger or probably older like Yasmeen were also present.
"My future daughter-in-law has arrived" Grandma announced and all eyes were on me. They all stared at me and started giggling. I was a bit embarrassed by their stare and felt like the ground should open and swallow me at that instant.
Come on! They are all female just like you. Why the shyness? My inner voice tried to calm my nerves.
Unsure of what to do, I started greeting everyone with grandma following closely behind me, placing one hand on the back of my shoulder. She started introducing them to me one after the other. She started with the Turkish woman whose beauty was highly noticeable.
The woman was soft-spoken just like grandma. She stood up to hug me and I couldn't help but adore her kind gesture. Her orbs were dark but contrastingly tender, different from her son's. She had so many features similar to Zayn, like the shape of her face, the colour of her lips, and her full perfectly arching brows. Now I know where that man's beauty came from. Good thing she wasn't as tall as him, else she would not only intimidate people with her beauty but her height also.
I moved over to Aylin, Grandma made a quick introduction some of which I already knew like her relationship with Zayn. She didn't allow me to greet her for a long time, good thing we were already acquainted with each other.
We moved to the two women sitting near the headboard.
"Hannan" I froze when the woman wearing a black khimar called my name. I looked at her and immediately recognized her. She was my mother's friend from the hospital, where she worked as a nurse.
"How are you? How is your mum?" She asked, straight-faced. She wasn't smiling even though her voice was so sweet. She was just like my mother, the kind that never smiled. You could never know when they were happy.
"I'm fine and Mum is very well thank you," I said politely.
"Alhamdulillah! Masha Allah (Thanks be to Allah)." She gave praises to Allah as though she wasn't expecting the kind of reply I gave her.
"I spoke to her on the phone yesterday and she said she wasn't coming because she was unwell."She informed me. I gave her a confused look with a crooked smile. My mother didn't look sick to me. "She had told me that you were coming to represent her. Good thing you are here." Did my mother really say that? So, she knew about the party all along. Why didn't she come along with me? it would have been more interesting and comfortable with her here.
"Yes, I have to come in her place." I lied, acting like everything she said about Umma's health was true because it was the only rational thing I could say. I didn't know if Mother was well or not. How should I know when she kept things from me?
"Ah! Looks like our mother-in-law is already acquainted with our wife. No need for further introduction." Grandma spoke and my doubt was confirmed. She was Imran's mother. How could I not know after all these years? No wonder mother had always treated him like one of her own, because he was her best friend's son.
"Imran is getting married and no one informed me?" Yasmeen's mother asked with astonishment in her tone. I couldn't help but notice Imran's mother staring agape at me. Her eyes shifted from me to their grandmother, and that was when I saw her smile for the first time since I knew her. And her smile was beautiful. I wished she could smile more often.
Was Grandma being serious about this daughter-in-law thing? Did Imran tell her he was going to propose to me?
I have something I want to show you after the party. His words played in my head. I hoped he was not planning to propose. It sounded somewhat absurd, even in my thoughts. Imran had never approached with such an intention and I was certain he wouldn't take me by surprise. I believed he had something else in store for me.
"No one is getting married, kaka(grandma) has probably made it up." Imran's mother said, smiling back at Yasmeen's mother. She had this Kanuri accent. I noticed because my parents were from Borno and my mother was Kanuri while my father was shuwa arab. I have heard my maternal aunt speak with that accent.
"I'm not making it up. My grandson has brought home a wife. Get yourself prepared for the role of a mother-in-law." Grandma gave Hajiya a playful warning which made everyone giggle, yet again. Their grandmother was unlike all other elderly women that I had met. She wasn't as grumpy as them and she was funny for her age.
"Don't mind my granny, she loves creating drama," Yasmeen whispered in my ear over my shoulder.
"This is such good news. Both of our soon-to-be daughters-in-law are here with us tonight." The woman that I had presumed to be Zayn's mother spoke, looking from me to Aylin with a broad smile plastered on her face. I noticed Aylin smiling down at her hands on her lap, she looked calm and well-collected.
"Welcome home sweetie, you'll be a perfect match for our son." She gave me a side hug and walked over to stand near her co-wife.
I could understand that these people were just being kind and affectionate toward me. As for Imran, he was damn young and unprepared so I saw it as a joke they thought us a couple.
Kaka made me sit beside Aylin on the bed. I tried to make light conversation with her as the room became lively with chatter. The older women were not left out. I heard them talking about us and their children and of course, the hottest of all topics was Zayn and Aylin couple. They were talking about convincing him to hasten up with the engagement. I was trying hard not to listen to their conversation but I had long ears. I wondered if Aylin could hear them too.
Moments later, Aylin and Kaka started playing the Chinese checkers while I and the other girls watched them. She taught Aylin who was also good at the game some new moves.
I noticed Yasmeen casting a green look at Aylin as she innocently played away her game. I didn't know what was her issue with the lady, but my gut feeling had me thinking she had a small crush on her cousin and she was jealous of Aylin's relationship with Zayn.
Kaka stood up and went to the older women. When Aylin offered to play with me, I kindly refused because I didn't know a thing about checkers. So, Aliya played in my place instead.
Looking around to see everyone with their happy faces made me realize the importance of family and how tedious my life was. My mother was always so concerned about work and good manners and there was hardly room for us to connect and have fun. That night I felt like I had just escaped from prison back at home, breathing in the fresh air of liberty.
I noticed the girls in the room giggling like little girls as they adjusted their hijabs and headscarves. All eyes were directed towards the doorway. The older women were smiling in adoration. I turned to look at what they were smiling at.
A tall frame was standing by the doorway. It was Zayn, and following behind him was Imran. He had changed into a plain black jalabiya (a loose-fitting hooded robe) while Imran was still in his black suit.
All the younger girls greeted Zayn in a formal tone like he was the king of their village. It seemed like he enjoyed the spotlight. I get it, since he was the older son he deserved all the respect in the world.
Both boys went to offer their greetings to the older women. Having greeted them, zayn went to give his grandmother a special greeting. I was taken aback when he bowed face-down with so much humility as he greeted her. He didn't look like the humble type to me. He asked about her well-being and she answered, ruffling his hair. He leaned in and placed a cute kiss on her forehead and then hugged her tightly so that her head brushed against his chin.
Masha Allah! they were so cute to watch.
"come on, that's enough. Do you want to suffocate your grandmother?" His mother complained.
"But Inna is not complaining," one of the girls yelled across the room. He turned to look at her and said "Exactly" with a wink. She was too young for him to flirt with, yet it looked like that was precisely what he was doing.
I saw the girl covering her mouth with her scarf to hide her smile. Was Aylin seeing this? He might have this thrilling effect on other girls in the family or even other girls out there.
I watched as his grandmother whispered something into his ear and he turned to look at me, his expression neutral. I managed to dodge his gaze. There was no sign of astonishment in his eyes, Just that phlegmatic look. Not that I wanted him to show any sign of surprise though. I didn't even know what grandmother had told him.
I remembered earlier when I had thought that he was a misogynist. Maybe I was right. But learning about his relationship with Aylin I didn't know what to think of him anymore. Poor Aylin, how would a sweet soul like her cope with this proud peacock? I wondered how they met each other.
I saw him walking towards his brother who was tapping away on his phone. That was the nerdy side of Imran in action, he was always playing with his phone. Maybe he might be playing a football game or solving a puzzle.
"So, who else knows about her apart from Inna?" Zayn directed the question to his brother but Imran looked confused as his eyes were glued to his screen.
"Basically everyone apart from you." I heard Aliya say and Zayn shot her a dark look.
"Sorry bro, I don't get you. Speak clearly." Imran said not sparing him any attention considering he was engrossed with his phone.
He placed a hand on Imran's shoulder and leaned closer "Women are a distraction. Pay attention to your studies." He said in his brother's ear before taking majestic steps out of the room. Imran subsequently followed behind him as he couldn't stay amidst women. He was shy with women and hardly talked to them. I and Salma were the only female friends he had. It was just recently he started talking to Kulthum as well.
So far everyone in the family had been nice to me, except for Zayn who was acting like a pregnant woman on her period. Was that how he behaved with his patients?
★★★★★
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