"I don't want to go out, Auntie," Amani replied from her bed, her voice muffled by the blankets fallen over her ears. That morning, her aunt had come in to wake her up and open the balcony doors so the cool Mediterranean wind and bright sun could brighten the gloomy mood of the room. Since then, Amani had remained between her sheets and watched the paper decorations in the street dance with each gust.
Her aunt sighed. "You cannot stay here forever, my love."
It had only been two days.
"I understand that you are hurt by Yasmeen's actions, but do not allow her to have this power over you. Why don't you go visit Reema? She's been calling to check on you all morning."
"Reema should come here."
Her tone peaked as if she hadn't considered it. "Wow, what an idea. I will call her right now and invite her over for dinner."
Once she heard the bedroom door close, Amani groaned and buried herself beneath the blankets. Normally, she wouldn't be sulking so dramatically at something like this, but it wasn't only Yasmeen's childish gossip she was thinking about. It was all the people who believed it to be true. She'd believed it wouldn't matter, would hardly affect her, because Amani was used to slander—western high schools prepared her for it—but she didn't realize how different this was.
She'd only realized yesterday afternoon when an older woman and her daughter had come to visit them. Both Amani and Auntie found it unusual considering neither of the guests knew Amani on a level personal enough to come check on her.
But they hadn't even been there to check on her.
Amani only learned what their visit was about when she brought out the tea her aunt had prepared. "I appreciate the concern, haja, but I am going to have to decline." Auntie hadn't seemed happy in her tone but her control would hardly let it show.
"Are you sure, Arwa? Mohamed and I only have the girl's best interests in mind. Once the news reaches further, nobody will want to marry her. It is best she is married before then and my son is willing to do so for the sake of Allah."
Amani's eyes grew large as she rose from placing the tea on the table, staring in shock at the woman. "They were rumors."
Her daughter responded. "Rumors are dangerous."
"No, blindness is," she answered, trying to tame her rising frustration in front of her aunt. "Because if people would only open their eyes and ears to the truth instead of the first piece of gossip they hear, rumors would only be rumors. Rumors are not news."
"Why, that is no way to speak to me while I am in your home asking for your hand to my son," the older lady spoke.
Auntie finally spoke, her words the opposite of what Amani had hoped for. "She is correct, Amani. Please apologize to our guests."
She turned to her aunt in exasperation. "But Auntie-."
"Apologize."
"I apologize," she fumed. There was no truth to it.
The older lady nodded. "It is alright, my dear."
"I apologize as well, haja-" her aunt began and Amani would have never expected the blows of betrayal to come so quickly after one another. She set her eyes on the ground and stayed silent.
Auntie continued. "-for my niece's tone. Her words were not wrong. As for this proposal, we will not accept it. You see, Amani does not need someone who is only willing to marry her for reasons that are no more than bogus spread by immature children in the streets. My niece is smart, guided, and wise beyond her years, alhamdullilah, and we do not need charity from any families. You are a friend to my husband and I so I will not see the insult in your words and visit today, but Amani has kindly made tea."
Amani lowered her gaze even further, this time to hide her smile.
When she told Reema about the interaction, her cousin frowned in confusion. "Auntie said thatand you are sulking for it?"
"It's not that I'm sulking over. I feel like I've suddenly brought so many problems to Auntie's household. People are talking badly of me but they don't know me so I'm not as hurt by it as she may be. They're people she's lived with her entire life," Amani sat straight on the bed and fixed the blanket over her legs.
"And if they believe what's being said about her niece and her family, then it's a good thing she no longer speaks to them. Tests like these reveal people's true colors, you know," Reema picked up the grapes Auntie had washed and brought for the two of them. "I know Auntie may be a little sad or upset but once all the emotions of the moment fade, I think she'll be thankful all of this happened."
Amani shrugged. "Maybe."
"Have you spoken to your father?"
She nodded. "Two days ago."
Reema took another handful of grapes, dropping three into her mouth then deciding to speak. "And how did it go?" She asked before crunching the fruit between her teeth.
"I told him I wanted to go back, that I didn't like it here anymore because people were causing problems for me. She didn't tell him exactly what, but I think Auntie had explained why I was upset before I spoke to him. He said he would think about it," Amani watched her cousin. "Are you a starving child? Why are you filling your mouth with so many grapes you can barely breathe?"
She only shrugged. "They taste the best this way. Anyway, are you still upset with Yasmeen?"
Amani sat back against the wall. "Upset? I don't know. I'm not going to be talking to the girl any time soon, though. In fact, I'd be happy never seeing her face around me at- ow!" She held her arm after Reema seized it excitedly then shoved Amani back, her wide grin contrasting against Amani's pained pout. "What was that for?"
"You should want to see her face again!"
"Why would I want that?"
"Because! Didn't you hear?" Reema exclaimed happily. "Didn't you hear what happened after you completely humiliated yourself by falling in that mud? Oh, Amani, it was the best thing! I came out into the balcony when I heard the ruckus. You and Muhsin were walking away and you should have seen her face! She was so red, her eyes looked like they could have exploded from their sockets."
Amani tried not to smile at the image forming in her head. Yasmeen had gone from looking at her with mocking pity and sneering with her friends to fuming once Muhsin had stepped in. "Was she?"
Reema clapped her hands but dropped her voice in a whisper. "That isn't even the best part I need to tell you about."
"It gets better?" Amani snorted sarcastically.
"Apparently Abu Rayan heard from someone about what his daughter had been saying about you at the night prayer and Yasmeen's been grounded ever since. The actual best part is this: when I was coming back from the market that night, Abu Rayan was walking out with none other than your bread boy himself."
Amani's sarcasm slipped away. "Muhsin?"
Reema nodded. "I mean, there were a few other men walking together so I couldn't really see, but I'm almost eighty percent sure that he was the one who told him. Can you imagine? Muhsin, the guy Yasmeen's been pining after, got her in trouble for spreading gossip about the girl she thinks is a threat to her and Muhsin—you!"
"I think you're giving him too much credit."
"Oh, baby cousin, Muhsin deserves all the credit."
Amani rolled her eyes.
"It's too bad you won't be coming out of your hideaway soon enough to see him. I think your dad might actually be thinking about letting you go back home this time."
That night, when the moon was high enough in the sky to throw a blanket so dark even the starts seemed to shine blindingly, Amani couldn't be found anywhere in her aunt's home. She was sitting quietly across from the grave of Amer Abu Zaid, the sixteen-year-old refugee who'd been shot the day before she stopped leaving the house.
In a way, Amani found visiting the graveyard to be a humbling, grounding experience. She was worried about issues that seemed so insignificant in the true size of things. Yasmeen was spreading rumors about her? Children were dying. Why had she allowed herself to become so affected by such a minimal occurrence?
She heard something shuffle in the distance but, by this point, Amani no longer stirred at the sounds around her. Whatever the spirits in the graveyard were doing, it had nothing to do with her. Reema would think she'd gone absolutely ballistic.
Amani closed her eyes and lifted her hands before her face. She recited the new Surah she'd learned in Koran class for the boy because maybe her voice would bring him comfort in the dark isolation he was now in. Then, once she came to the end of all that she'd memorized, she recited the first Surah she'd ever known—the one that was always read for the dead because of the natural prayers present within.
When she finished, Amani rose and swept her hands softly down her face before pressing them against the grave. Long ago, her mother always told her that the purity of the words they spoke in their prayers could be caught in their hands and transferred to whoever they touched. She wanted to transfer them to Amer.
On her way back from the graves, Amani lifted the hood of her jacket onto her head—well, Muhsin's jacket. She hadn't given it back yet because she hadn't seen him. It's not like she wanted to keep it. Not at all. It was only because she hadn't had the opportunity to return it.
Yes, that was the reason.
She stopped by the water fountain but the cup was nowhere to be found. Amani rose onto her toes and peeked inside the refrigerator-like machine, but it was not there. She looked under it. Nothing. Then she carefully stepped over the bush beside it to peek behind it as a last resort. She doubted the cup would be in the narrow space between the machine's back and the wall.
"What are you doing?" Muhsin asked.
Muhsin?
Amani turned to find the boy standing on the opposite side of the bush she'd crossed. He looked down at the large shrub between them and scratched the back his neck. "The cup's gone."
"You're thirsty?"
"No." She lifted her leg to take a step back over the shrubbery between them but her abaya rose to reveal her legs. Muhsin was already looking toward the graves she'd just come from, hardly sparing her a morsel of his attention. She wondered if it was intentional.
He took a step back to give her space, tugging the strap of his backpack over his left shoulder. "I don't understand," he mumbled, his eyes roaming the ground around them.
"I need to water my plant," she cupped her hands beneath the water to gather as much as she could in her hold. Then she carefully stepped to the small seedling rising from the floor. A few droplets fell as she lowered herself to the ground, staying on her feet to keep the dirt from staining her burnt orange abaya. Opening her hands, she let the water fall quickly around the plant.
Muhsin's shadow fell above her as she spoke. "I'm not sure what it is but I saw it growing a few weeks ago so I water it whenever I come by. It's gotten so big already," she grinned, softly running her thumb over the leaf that rose above the others.
His shadow shifted to allow the street light to shine over Amani's head, illuminating the rising seedling. Then he lowered himself beside her to admire its growth.
She nearly laughed. "Because I've been watering it since it was so small, I almost feel like I'm raising my child. It's my baby." She turned to him. "Do you think it's an olive tree? If it is, I'll let you have it as long as you name it after me."
The corner of his lip lifted into the slightest simper but he kept his eyes on the plant. He shook his head. "Look at the leaves. It's a grapevine," he answered.
Amani squinted at the miniature leaves. "Oh," she admitted, seeing the familiar shape in its smallest form. If she'd considered it as a possibility, she likely would have figured it out on her own. "I see it now. Can we make waraq enab with them?"
"Not yet," he admitted.
"Why not? We'll just make them bite sized rolls," she wrapped her arms around her legs, finding the position to be more comfortable than she'd expected it to be. "I don't think I could pick any of these though. I'm not sure how you find the strength to pick those olive leaves. I used to think it was so little but, now, it seems like too much."
Muhsin shrugged. "People need them."
She turned to him with a question. "Is that why you never gave up on the garden? Because people need it?"
His gaze focused on the grapevine in front of them. Amani waited patiently as he contemplated his response. "No," he answered. Before she could ask more, Muhsin stood up. "Come on, I'll walk you on my way."
Amani rose too. "Then why did you?"
"Do you ask everybody such personal questions?"
"No," she shook her head. "Just the people I want to know."
"Why do you want to know me?"
"Because you're interesting."
"Why?"
Amani shrugged, a smile growing on her lips. "I'm not sure. Maybe I'm normally in the company of people who are really amusing so I've grown bored of them. Now that I've met someone who isn't like that at all, I'm intrigued."
Muhsin lowered his head but Amani saw the unamused smirk tugging at the right corner of his mouth. "I'm interesting because I am not interesting then?" He repeated.
She nodded, grinning. "Not interesting at all."
He snorted. "Maybe you're just the one that is too interesting. In all my life in this town, I've never seen anyone fall so inexpertly."
Amani scoffed. "Inexpertly?"
"It almost seems like you've never fallen before." He teased, his tone sarcastically critical in a way that urged Amani on.
She crossed her arms competitively and took a step forward. "Oh, have you never slipped on mud before?"
Muhsin shook his head. "Not once."
"Wow, mashallah, Sheikh Muhsin in the house everybody," Amani raised her hands above her head in feigned praise. He smirked at her tantalizing tone. "I'm truly lost for words at how close he comes to perfection. In fact, my nights are spent praying to come close to him and his immeasurable expertise."
He smirked. "Is that so?"
Amani nodded. "Of course. Why else would I name my dear grapevine child after him? My darling sapling. My lovely, hardworking Muhsin," she stepped past him and dropped beside the plant, patting its head as if it were a child. Even though her words were directed away from him, Amani's attention remained locked on Muhsin where he stood above her.
Muhsin's bright eyes illuminated his features when watching its leaves flutter beneath her touch. His smile grew at her words then, in the smallest shift of all, his gaze left the greenery and met hers.
Amani's hand stopped moving over the plant, her entire body surrendering function so her brain could decipher the sudden feeling flooding her senses—the feeling of being under Muhsin's gaze. His smile fell a flicker from a humored grin to something else, something more subtle, calmer, as he watched her.
Forgetting the plant beside her, Amani slowly rose to a stand in front of him. She moved slowly because part of her remained afraid that any sudden movements would remind Muhsin of what he was doing and he would tear his attention away.
His eyes looked much deeper when they looked directly at a person, his pupils dilated in the darkness of the night around them. The depth was warm. It welcomed her, but the hazel color rounding its shape contrasted in a way so sharp it made her breath fall away. The orange lamplight overhead reflected in the honey-colored specks past his thick eyelashes.
Amani's chest felt full, its contents pressing against her ribs and holding her oxygen hostage in Muhsin's name. She rolled her fingers against her palm as they grew weak. Her pinky tingled, affected by the butterflies that had fled her abdomen. In their absence, a powerful wave of tranquility rolled over as if the gaze of the man standing before her thrown the warmest of assurance of her.
Beneath Muhsin's focus, Amani was invincible.
"Wow," she breathed, every inhale and exhale uneven.
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly at her. "What?"
The corners of her lips lifted by way of the lightweight she was positive would lift her off the ground beneath her. Her smile mirrored his. "You're looking at me," Amani whispered.
For a moment, his smile grew the subtlest of growths. Then the expression in his eyes that had disarmed and unraveled Amani fell away to let through a familiar seriousness as his attention slipped between her eyes. When he looked away then, Amani felt bare.
His attention rested on the plant beside her and Muhsin took a breath, contemplating something. "There is something I need to tell you," he said. For the first time, Amani recognized nerves in his voice.
She nodded. "Okay. Tell me."
In the moment between her permission and the coming disturbance, Muhsin cleared his throat and read the ground between their feet for a script. Time felt like it paused at his nervousness so Amani let all the worst outcomes of the situation play out in her head. He would say he had a child or- no, that he was in fact marrying Yasmeen and had been entertaining the possibility of Amani on no other grounds than boredom just as she'd believed herself to be doing to him. It would be an eye-opening lesson to learn.
But it was a lesson Amani didn't want to learn.
Not when she was quickly realizing how much she was beginning to actually feel for the man in front of her. Somehow he'd managed to grow on her and claim for himself a steady place in the territory between her heart and mind. In this moment, Amani suddenly realized the power he held over her.
He opened his mouth but the voice that spoke wasn't his.
"Ya Rijal, that's what I told him after the game!" Amani looked past him at the voices coming a few streets away, approaching them. A group of men laughed in the street and, when she saw the lights of the Masjid illuminate the night sky, Amani realized the early morning prayer was nearing. Soon, the streets would be flooded with men on their way to pray.
She took a step back. "I should go home before people see...," she turned to Muhsin, who began to nod. "...me. Not that we're doing anything wrong but, they'll form their own thoughts."
He nodded. "Do you want me to-."
Amani shook her head, moving back further. Her eyes rested on the street she heard the men approaching from, praying they wouldn't arrive soon enough to see her standing with a man. "No, you need to go pray. I can go on my own from here. Goodnight, Muhsin," she smiled at him one final time before twirling around and taking the branched street on her left on her way home.