"Are you serious?" Dawood asked, completely flabbergasted. "Sister Iman likes Dawood?" Ahmed asked and shook his head as if to clear it. "Sister Iman not only likes Dawood and Khadijah, but wants to be Khadijah's mother if she allows it and Dawood's wife, if he allows it," Rana smiled and sighed. "You approve of this, don't you?" Ahmed asked as he looked at his sister. "I'll be honest about the fact," Rana began and looked at Khadijah, "that I believe Iman is someone who would take very good care of you and your baba." "Ms. Abdullah wants to be MY mama?" Khadijah asked in wonder. "You like her?" Dawood asked as he looked at his daughter, who nodded slowly. "She's always been very nice to me," Khadijah said and looked at Ruby for her input. "Well, I think she's stunningly beautiful. Plus she lives a very simple lifestyle. She's been in our community forever as you all have told me time and time again. I've yet to see a bad quality about her," Ruby chimed in.
"I don't want this to be another, well you know," Dawood said and knew that the adults knew he was talking about his divorce. "She's never been married and she wants to be your wife and her mother. I think she's thought this through more than you, Dawood," Ruby added. "Khadijah is my priority," Dawood said simply. "And she'll be Iman's priority," Rana added softly as she held Dawood's hand. "We're not saying that you should jump into marriage, Dawood Bhai. Court her, Islamically. Get to know her and then decide if she's compatible with you two or not," Ruby suggested. Dawood had never thought of Iman as anything else except a sister in Islam. Now, she was putting herself out there to become his wife and Khadijah's mother. "Don't think too hard on it," Ahmed suggested. "I don-," Dawood began and winced before rubbing his hands on his head. "He does that when he gets confused," Ahmed explained to Ruby. 'I know. Why are you explaining it like I just met him or something?" Ruby asked in confusion. "I-um, never mind. Dawood, just meet up with her and we'll see where it goes from there," Ahmed suggested.
He had agreed and three days later found himself clutching Khadijah's hand as they stood near the restaurant they were supposed to meet Iman at. "Are you nervous, Baba?" Khadijah asked and looked up at Dawood. "Yes, ma'am," Dawood confirmed Khadijah's suspicions and gulped as he spotted Iman. She had parked her compact car in a parking spot for small cars and walked towards the restaurant. She hadn't spotted the father/daughter duo, but seemed nervous as she fixed her hijab and glanced at her watch a couple times. While she was walking to the restaurant's front door, Dawood noticed a man approaching Iman menacingly. "Hey, babe!" The man called out rudely. Iman paused and glanced at the man before shaking her head and returning to her route. Iman's rejection seemed to have incensed the man who picked up his pace and reached for Iman's scarf. "Hey!" Dawood called out as he scooped Khadijah up and ran towards Iman. It seemed that he didn't need to do that since Iman calmly sidestepped the man's grasp and twirled around, grasping the man's hand in her own and pinning him down on the ground with her knee. "Did you think I was helpless? Did you think you would assault this Muslim woman and she'd meekly accept your advances?" Iman asked angrily and crushed her knee forcefully into the man's chest. "Whoa," Dawood whispered in unison and approached Iman. "Sister-," Dawood began, but paused as he realized that the title of "sister" would now be weird between them. "Iman, are you okay?" Iman looked at Dawood in surprise and nodded before she moved aside and let Dawood take over.
He pinned the man to the ground and whispered, "Did you really try to take a lady's scarf off, you piece of crap?" "Are you okay, Ms. Abdullah?" Khadijah asked in concern as she placed her hands on Iman's face once the young woman stooped in front of the little girl. "Yes, little one. I'm okay. I live alone so I know self-defense," Iman explained and gently touched Khadijah's face in reassurance. "What's going on here?" Ahmed asked as he jogged over and looked at the situation. "You're here right on time. Call the cops. This jerk tried assaulting Iman," Dawood explained. "You goddamn Muslim scum," the man spat out at Dawood. Dawood growled as the man's spit landed on his face and fiercely twisted the man's arm before whispering in the man's ear, "We've got cameras all around on you, asshole. You not only assaulted a woman, but you spat on a soldier. See if you get away scot free after this." "What'd you say, Baba?" Khadijah asked in concern. "Are you alright?" Iman asked and pulled out a napkin from her purse just as the police rolled around. Dawood nodded and thanked the police once they hauled the man off the ground. The police took their statements and let them know that they could be called in for questioning later on.
Dawood wiped his face with Iman's napkin and sighed, "You'd be surprised how many times I've been spit on." "But you're alright, correct?" Iman asked in concern. "Yes, ma'am," Dawood nodded with a smile. "My baba is tough," Khadijah chimed in. I can see that," Iman smiled. "What an eventful first date, and it hasn't even really started!" Ruby exclaimed and patted Dawood on his back. "We should head inside," Ahmed suggested once he realized that a small crowd had gathered to see the man being hauled off in the police car. "I think that's a good idea," Rana chimed in and led the way. Dawood noticed that Khadijah was looking up at Iman in awe, every few minutes. He had to admit, Iman was more than what she let on. He had never even considered that the young woman would know martial arts, but she did. He wondered what other surprises lay behind her cool green eyes. He had never really noticed Iman in any other light other than a sister in Islam, but now he gulped as he realized just how beautiful she was. Her eyes were unique, a blend of green and a hint of yellow, Dawood thought and quickly averted his gaze once Iman glanced at him. Her face seemed to be sculpted from alabaster, with a hint of a tan that was barely noticeable and blended nicely into her complexion. Her cheekbones were high and gave her a very refine and aristocratic air about her. He wondered why it had taken him so long to admire how beautiful she was, but had to admit that he wasn't the best at noticing the obvious.
When they were served their meals and they continued their light chatter, Dawood took every opportunity he was given to study Iman. She let them know that she lived alone and was estranged from her family. She worked at a charity in her spare time, but usually spent most of her time at the mosque after work. As they exchanged information about each other, Dawood noticed that Iman continuously pulled her sleeves down over her wrists. He noticed a thin white line at Iman's wrist and looked up at her. She quickly pulled her sleeve over her wrist before looking around to see if anyone noticed. Her eyes connected with Dawood's and he watched the usually calm and collected woman, visibly gulp and deflect her gaze. Dawood cocked his head to the side and watched Iman shift uncomfortably as she tried making conversation with Rana. What was this woman hiding? He knew that SHE knew that he was still watching which was why he cleared his throat and said, "I think we should call it a night? You have school tomorrow, Shehzadi." Dawood avoided Iman's gaze, but could see her sigh in relief out of the corner of his eye. He didn't want to put her in a compromising situation and knew that she would talk about whatever was on her mind when the time was right. Everyone had secrets. He had no right interfering in anyone's business. "Aww," Khadijah pouted, "can't we stay five more minutes?" "If you don't get to bed on time, little one," Iman spoke softly and pulled her sleeves lower, "how will I spend time with you tomorrow at daycare?" "Oh, yeah," Khadijah nodded. "I have to go to school to go to daycare. That's important." Iman smiled and nodded, "Yes it is, little one. I enjoy our time together." "So do I, Ms. Abdullah. Baba, did the date go well?" Khadijah asked abruptly as she looked at Dawood.
Dawood smirked slightly at Khadijah's impromptu question and sighed, "I don't know. We'd have to ask Ms. Abdullah. What do you think, Iman?" Iman looked up at Dawood in surprise, letting Dawood know that she still wasn't used to being called by her name by the young father. Dawood smiled and expectantly looked at her. He chuckled as Khadijah said, "I think it was a great date." "I agree," Rana chimed in. "I'd like to also add that I found you two to be pleasantly compatible," Ahmed nodded. "It was an awesome first date. You guys broke the ice," Ruby nodded and looked at Iman. "Plus, Khadijah had a blast with you." "Muslims talking about blasts. Sure, that doesn't make anyone nervous," Ahmed muttered as he looked around. "Ugh, stop being all paranoid. No one is watching us. It's when Muslims look nervous that people tend to GET nervous," Ruby sighed and handed her purse to Ahmed.
One by one, all of them headed towards their cars. Dawood glanced at Iman and said, "We'll walk you to your car." "You don't have to," Iman said quickly. She smiled as Khadijah said, "It's okay, Ms. Abdullah. I'll be your chaperones." "Chaperone," Dawood corrected and shrugged. "Can't argue with that." Iman smiled and quietly walked in tandem with Dawood as she held Khadijah's small hand. Khadijah glanced at her father and held up a thumbs-up, making him smile. "I'll be honest, Iman. I'm horrible at this entire dating situation," Dawood said quickly once Iman approached the driver's side of her car. Iman let out a breath and crossed her arms across her chest while she said, "I thought I was the only awkward one. I've never done this." "I've done this once before. Failed spectacularly. Don't let the cute daughter fool you. I don't expect you to open up and tell me your whole life story over a couple cups of coffee," Dawood nodded. "That'd be weird, but, I would like to get to know you better. You're a great person. You're a great Muslim. You're someone my daughter respects." "Yeah and you also kick butt. Remember?" Khadijah sighed. "You're so cool, Ms. Abdullah. Baba's cool too. If you guys get married-." "One step at a time, Shehzadi," Dawood said and picked Khadijah up before smiling at Iman.
"You effectively have gotten our attention. We just hope we don't fall short on your expectations," Dawood said unsurely. "I appreciate your honesty, Br-Dawood," Iman corrected. She smiled while Khadijah openly whispered, "She said your name, Baba. Your name sounded cool. How come it never sounds cool when other people say it?" Iman laughed as Dawood shook his head and said, "She doesn't know me that well. She'll realize I'm a dork once she does. Then she'll sound just like everyone else." "Dawood, marriage is something I had never considered in my life, even at my lowest points. When I converted to Islam, it seemed like every Muslim man in my vicinity wanted me as a wife, but that isn't why I converted to Islam. Maybe one day, I'll share my journey to Islam with you. I never truly desired to be married even if it is said that marriage is half my faith. That is, until I watched you with Khadijah. You can tell a lot about a man by the way he takes care of his daughter," Iman said softly. "What can you tell about Baba?" Khadijah asked in intrigue. "That he loves you a great deal. That he would move mountains and annihilate all enemies just for you," Iman smiled. "If you two would excuse me, I have to get home and prepare for my classes tomorrow."
Dawood nodded and watched Iman get in the car and drive away. "Baba, what does annihilate mean?" Khadijah asked as she looked at her father. Dawood smirked and said, "Destroy." "Oh yeah, we destroy enemies all the time. Right?" Khadijah asked as she skipped alongside Dawood while holding his hand. "Yup. All the time," Dawood nodded. "Baba? Did you like Ms. Abdullah?" Khadijah asked cautiously. "She's nice," Dawood nodded. "Yeah, but do you LIKE her?" Khadijah asked, as she got closer to her father. "Why are you being creepy?" Dawood asked as he looked at Khadijah in suspicion. "I like her. Do you think she's mama material?" Khadijah asked innocently. Dawood cleared his throat and looked at Khadijah at a loss for words. He thanked God once Ruby called out, "Chooza, Ghora Bacha, let's go. We can talk about all the mushy stuff in the car." "I hate it when she says that," Dawood sighed. He then lovingly looked at Khadijah who had happily hopped into Ruby's arms while yelling, "Your chooza has arrived!"
He watched Khadijah doze off in the car and touched her cheek gently while he thought of Khadijah's question. Was Iman "mama" material? "Yo," Ahmed called out as he saw Dawood lost in though. "How'd it go?" "You guys were there with me. It was awkward," Dawood sighed. "Why am I so awkward?" "Father's are supposed to be awkward," Ahmed shrugged. "You're thinking more about Khadijah's well being than your own. I saw you look at Khadijah every time Iman asked you something." "YOU still call her Sister Iman until she marries Dawood Bhai. Then you can call her Bhabi," Ruby said in warning. Dawood smirked and said, "Why are you being jealous?" "Jealous? Yeah, I'm a bit jealous. I'm woman enough to admit that," Ruby nodded and glanced at Khadijah as she snoozed in her seat. She looked at Dawood and added, "I know you haven't noticed yet, but she's model-like. Like, she's drop dead gorgeous and that's when she's not wearing makeup. Now that I think about it, she never wears makeup. I'm good looking, but not on her level." "You're beautiful, babe," Ahmed smiled. "Ew. Did you just call me babe?" Ruby cringed.
Dawood smiled while Ahmed and Ruby playfully bickered. When he had gotten married to Annie, he had expected married life to be the life that Ahmed and Ruby now shared. Instead, he had received nothing but misery. In that mess of a marriage, the best thing that came out of it was Khadijah. He knew he would have gladly dived into depression after the loss of his mother and the end of his fledgling marriage, but Khadijah had forcefully pulled him out of any self-inflicted misery Dawood had planned. He kissed the top of Khadijah's forehead and thought of the day she was born. She had transformed a broken man into a loving, protective father, all at first sight. She was unlucky enough to be Annie's biological daughter, but he was going to make sure that if he did marry Iman, she was number one "mama" material.
******
Dawood heard his phone ringing shrilly before he glanced at the number and answering quickly, "Hello?" "She's in labor, man," Ahmed said breathlessly. "Annie's in labor. Rana just let me know." Dawood sat up abruptly and whispered, "You're not joking right?" "Do you THINK I'd be joking about the birth of your kid, man?" Ahmed asked angrily. "No? No," Dawood whispered shakily. "What do I do? Can I come to the hospital?" "You better," Ahmed said simply. "She's already told the nurses she doesn't want to see your kid once he or she is born. I'll be damned if the kid doesn't get to meet his or her dad on his or her birthday." "Stop saying his or her," Dawood said as he quickly pulled on a t-shirt and hopped into a pair of pants before grabbing his keys and running out the door. "I'm on my way."
He was going to be a father today. This was a day he hadn't planned or expected to be momentous, but as he neared the hospital, he felt his heart race. Ahmed stood in the waiting area of the maternity ward and Dawood felt as if time was slowing down while Rana patted him on the back. This was the day. The day a little bundle of joy would join his crumbling life. The day he would officially have nothing more to do with his cheating wife. He saw a doctor look at him before glancing at his chart. She was saying something, but it seemed as if her lips were moving too slow. "Mr. Khan?" The doctor repeated as Ahmed shook Dawood out of his trance. "Yes?" Dawood gulped. "You're the father, correct?" The doctor asked. "I-I-Yes," Dawood stuttered before nodding.
"Please, come with me," the female doctor said as Dawood was led past a set of doors with warning signs. "Unauthorized entry prohibited," Dawood read out loud and felt his already racing heart begin to gallop when he saw a row of bassinets behind a window. "I was alerted to your unique predicament earlier. It's a shame the infant will not get to meet its mother," the doctor explained. "Yeah. I'm not too worried about it. Is my baby-?" Dawood began, but was cut off by the doctor. "Would you like to see instead of me answering?" The doctor smiled. "Yes, ma'am. I can, can't I?" Dawood asked as he wrung his hands together. "Of course. Please, follow me. We'll get you ready for your first meeting," The doctor smiled pleasantly.
Dawood entered a room with a single bassinet. His hands shook as he approached the pink creature that lied comfortably in it. A nurse stood by the bassinet and smiled before picking up the infant and whispering, "Hello, daddy. Meet your daughter." "Ya Allah," Dawood whispered as he took the pink bundle in his arms. He hadn't realized it, but he had been holding his breath as he approached the bassinet and let it out with a whoosh once he held his little girl. Dawood gulped as the little baby, no larger than his hand, stared at him. He kissed her forehead and placed his lips close to her small ears. He then recited the adhan and kalmia softly into her ear. This was a tradition in all Muslim households, which followed the way of Prophet Muhammad. Dawood followed these actions since it was reported that he did similar actions on the birth of his grandson. This ritual was to let a child know that they were born in a Muslim household. He finished the kalima and looked at his daughter. "Assalam alaikum," Dawood smiled meekly "I'm your baba." The little girl pursed her lips and squinted her eyes before yawning. Dawood let out a laugh and looked up at the nurse, "She's yawning." "Babies do that," the nurse smiled and walked over to a set of blinds "Let me know when you're ready to show her to your siblings. They've been waiting impatiently for a while."
The little girl let out a tiny whimper and squirmed in Dawood's arms before opening her eyes and looking at him. "Hello, again," Dawood nodded and smiled as the infant widened her eyes. "I see you've inherited my eye color. Smart choice," Dawood nodded and didn't realize he was crying until a small tear landed on his daughter's cheek. "I'm sorry, baby. Baba's a little emotional. I swear I don't cry often. You just don't understand how happy I am to have you in my life," Dawood sniffed and nodded at the nurse. "We're ready." The nurse smiled again and lifted the blinds as Dawood stood next to the glass. Ahmed stumbled once he looked at the small bundle in Dawood's arms before whispering, "It's a girl." "Congratulations, Baba Khan," Rana called out, wiping her own tears as she looked at her niece. "She's beautiful." Ahmed gnawed on his bottom lip while he looked at Dawood and then back at the baby. He gulped and shook his head as he realized he was near tears himself. "That's your Uncle Ahmed. He's a big baby so, you'll fit right in," Dawood whispered and smiled as his daughter blinked in response. "Let me look at her," Ahmed finally managed and shook his head once Dawood held her up to the glass. "Nope. Can't do it. She's too perfect. I can't stop the tears."
Dawood smiled and sat on a rocking chair. Rana and Ahmed watched their brother bring the little girl's face up to his own. He pressed his lips against her forehead and whispered, "I'm your baba and I'll always be there for you, Shehzadi." Rana smiled and nodded, "Yup. She's a princess alright." "Why am I crying so much?" Ahmed wailed. "Why is she so pink and cute? How are we going to raise a girl? We're all basically men." 'Hey," Rana said in warning. "It's true though. You're more manly than me," Ahmed said with a soft cry. "That says a lot," Rana chuckled. "This is my family, Shehzadi. This is your family. This is our family," Dawood whispered and nuzzled her face. "Is she cuddly?" Rana asked and smiled as Dawood sighed and nodded. "She's perfect, Baji," Dawood whispered. "She's perfect and she's my daughter."
******
"Did you see how she kicked that guy's butt?" Khadijah asked as she jumped on her bed and watched Dawood while he placed her tools back in her toolbox. "Yeah, I saw her," Dawood nodded before scooping Khadijah up in mid-jump and tucking her in her bed. "Bed time, Shehzadi." "That was cool, Baba. I was like, all jumping and stuff and you grabbed me and put me under the covers," Khadijah giggled. "I know, Shehzadi," Dawood smiled and sat on the edge of the bed. "I was there." "I'm being silly," Khadijah smiled and gave her father a hug. "I love you, Baba." "I know that too," Dawood smiled and kissed Khadijah's forehead. "I love you too." "Baba?" Khadijah began as she looked at her father. "Yeah, beautiful?" Dawood asked as he reached for a journal on Khadijah's nightstand. "I like it when you tell me that you love me. It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside," Khadijah answered. "It's awesome." "Well, in that case," Dawood began, "I love you, Shehzadi. I'll always love you, Shehzadi. Now and until you're an old wrinkly woman and I'm an old wrinkly brain in a jar."
Khadijah giggled and held Dawood as he lay down next to her, "I'll keep your brain next to me. I might even make some electrodes to attach to it so I can hear you all the time!" "That's unnerving, honey. Why do you know about electrodes? You're five," Dawood smiled before he buried his nose in her short hair. Khadijah smiled as Dawood inhaled deeply. He sighed and asked, "Why do you smell like marshmallows?" "Marshmallow shampoo! Just because I'm five doesn't mean I can't learn about electrodes. Aunt Rana taught me about them because I love learning, " Khadijah giggled and wrapped her arms tighter around her father. " Oh! I could keep your brain for a snack when I turn into a zombie." "IF you turn into a zombie," Dawood emphasized. "Baba, I'm using a multi-tool in a zombie invasion. I'm going to get eaten, easily," Khadijah shook her head. "Are you sure I can't use a gun in case of the apocalypse?" "I don't want you to use a gun, ever," Dawood whispered softly before kissing the top of her head. "I don't want you to be burdened with taking someone's life, living or the undead."
"Baba, you've killed bad guys, right?" Khadijah asked softly as she clutched Dawood's shirt and rested her head on his arm. Dawood sighed, truly not wanting to lie to his daughter. He sighed again, heavily, before whispering, "Yes, I have, Shehzadi." "But they were bad guys, so it's okay, right?" Khadijah asked softly. "It's never okay, Shehzadi. It's just something I did," Dawood whispered. "Do you feel bad?" Khadijah asked. "You're not going to hell, are you? Please, don't go to hell. I don't want to look down and see you burning." Dawood smirked and looked at Khadijah before saying, "What makes you so sure you're going to heaven?" "Baba, because I'm adorable," Khadijah said matter-of-factly. "Shehzadi, I know you joke about zombies, heaven, and hell, but I want to tell you something," Dawood whispered. "Yeah, Baba?" Khadijah asked as she listened keenly. "We do good things and bad things in life. No one knows who will go to heaven and who will go to hell because who makes that call?" Dawood asked. "Allah," Khadijah answered confidently. "That's right. If someone tells you that you will go to heaven because you killed someone different from you, that's wrong. Killing anyone for any reason is wrong," Dawood whispered.
"But Baba," Khadijah began with a pout, "you killed people." "I know, Shehzadi. That's something I have to live with. That is something Allah will judge me on," Dawood explained. "But they were bad guys," Khadijah whispered as he fought back tears. "I know, Shehzadi. Don't cry, beautiful," Dawood whispered as he held his precious daughter. "What if Allah gets angry at you?" Khadijah whimpered. "I don't want you to get punished, Baba." "My sweet, sweet, beti," Dawood began, using the Urdu word for daughter to show Khadijah that he wanted her to listen closely to his words. "We're human. We make mistakes, but you know what's the best thing about being Muslim?" "The community?" Khadijah asked innocently. "Well yeah, but there's also another thing that is awesome about being Muslim," Dawood began. "That's the ability to ask for forgiveness. If you do anything wrong and you feel bad and promise not to do it again, just ask for forgiveness. Allah is known to be the most forgiving."
"Baba?" Khadijah whispered as she closed her eyes and listened to her father's heartbeat. "Thank you for teaching me all these things." "It's my duty as your father and as your knight, princess," Dawood whispered with a smile before opening up the journal. "What story would you like to hear tonight? How about Prophet Jesus's story? Do you know what's another name for Prophet Jesus?" "Prophet Isa," Khadijah said confidently and flashed a thumbs-up at her father. "I know that's right because we learned about him in daycare yesterday." "Well that's just cheating, isn't it?" Dawood smiled and looked at Khadijah in surprise once she gave his cheek a giant sloppy kiss, "Ew. What was that for?" "For being my baba," Khadijah smiled and gave Dawood another kiss, "and for taking care of me ALL the time, even when I'm being silly." "You don't have to thank me for that, Shehzadi. I'll take care of you even if I'm a hundred years old." "Or a brain in a jar," Khadijah giggled. "Baba? May I ask you something?"
"You can ask me a million things," Dawood smiled as Khadijah snuggled up to him. "What's a pedophile? It's like a bike, right, or a scooter?" Khadijah asked innocently. "Shehzadi, where did you hear that word?" Dawood asked in concern "Did an adult teach you that?" Khadijah sighed and shook her head. "No, a girl in my class got mad and said that Prophet Muhammad is a pedophile. That doesn't make sense. Why would he be a bicycle? Did they have bicycles in the desert?" Dawood felt his anger getting the best of him, but took a deep breath before whispering, "Why did the girl say that, Khadijah?" "Her name is Isabella. We were hanging decorations on the Christmas tree and she was telling the story of Prophet Isa according to her beliefs. You told me we should respect everyone's beliefs so I listened nicely. Then I told her that Muslims believe in Prophet Isa too and she said that we are liars and follow a pedophile. She was angry because she said Muslims will go to hell." Dawood furrowed his brow as he heard his daughter repeat the words he had heard many times in his life. "Muhammad is a pedophile!" He remembered one woman yelling at him at a cultural fair that Ahmed was in charge of at his university. Adults who felt the need to convert Muslims out of their religion always said these things. The Internet had spread such misinformation by the hands of ignorant so-called teachers. Now, they were causing grief for little kids as well.
"Shehzadi, let's talk about this topic in five years, okay?" Dawood suggested to his little girl. "Okay," Khadijah sighed. "I don't like not knowing, Baba. I know I'm too little for some things, but then why do other kids talk about these things?" "Think of it this way, Shehzadi," Dawood began, "I want to protect you from the bad things in the world. You will see them eventually, but I think you're too young for them right now. I don't want to show you how bad some people are, how hurtful some people are. I want you to be a good kid. I want you to have a nice childhood. I know that you sometimes act like you're ten or twelve, but Shehzadi, you're only five. All the other stuff comes later." Khadijah wrinkled her forehead in thought, but then nodded, "Yeah, I like that. I don't want to grow up too fast." Dawood smiled when Khadijah quickly asked, "Wait, but Baba, what do I say to people who want to say hurtful things to me?" Dawood stood up and brushed his shoulders off while saying, "You do this. You let it all just brush off your shoulders. Let them be mean. Let them stay angry. You're Khadijah Khan. You're better than the haters." Khadijah giggled and buried her face in her pillow before saying, "No one says haters anymore, Baba. You're so old!" "Hey! I take offense to that," Dawood pretended to protest. "Alright, bed time, Shehzadi."
Dawood turned on Khadijah's nightlight and looked at his daughter while she slept peacefully. He had grown up hearing Islamophobes shove their beliefs down his throat. He had been physically assaulted because he was Muslim. He didn't want that for his daughter. Oh, there were critics of Islam left and right, but he had no problem with them unless they were infringing on the way he was raising his daughter or were judging the little girl because she was being raised in a Muslim household. He was fed up with the hundreds of anti-Islam speakers who were always saying that they knew the most about Islam. Most of their knowledge was based on their own personal tragedies at the hands of people who called themselves Muslims. He was constantly judged by the actions of a handful of men on that fateful day in September, so many years ago. It was easy to say Islam was evil when all you are shown are images of children crying and men burning American flags. He had seen the evil some men had done in the name of Islam in Afghanistan. Yet, he had seen more good than evil when it came to Islam.
Dawood headed to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk. It had become a habit, drinking a glass of milk before going to bed. He sat at the kitchen's island and ran a fingertip over the rim of his glass as he thought of all the good he had seen in the name of Islam. Perhaps it was because he was a soldier or perhaps it was because he generally, traveled a lot. Whatever it was, he had always been given a rare window into the lives of Muslims in different countries. He smirked at his naivety while he thought of the time he flew to Lahore. He had assumed that since Pakistan was such a densely populated Muslim country, he would find brotherhood and peace amongst the people that shared his faith. "You were stupid," Dawood whispered to himself as he sipped on his milk and ran a hand through his hair.
He had found brotherhood in areas he had never dared to look, in the arms of the poor and desolate. He had found nothing, but jealousy in the arms of those he was biologically related to. The rich were generally corrupt and not God-fearing in the least. They drank alcohol, gambled in their homes, and slept around. They did all this and more while living in a supposed "Muslim" country. The poor and middle-class, however, were usually found praying to the one who created them because they felt as if they had little else to do. It seemed that unfortunate had more at stake and prayed more than the fortunate. "What a bunch of crock," Dawood whispered and turned on the TV. There were two things that Dawood had learned growing up and they were that war was inevitable, and that peace was a dream. As long as there were differences in human beings, there would be war. As long as there is greed, there would be war. He had learned that speaking up for those that were wronged was considered dangerous and eventually, someone would try to silence you, whether physically or financially. That's how a great deal of Muslim countries stayed silent when atrocities were committed in other countries. They were content with having millions while those that they were supposed to be brothers, died.
"We have to worry about the dangers of Islamic extremists in our midst. There are some very real dangers of Islam," a news anchor for a leading conservative news channel ranted. "The most dangerous Muslim is a Muslim who speaks up, who defends his peers. WE are the dangers of Islam. You don't want us speaking against wrongdoings so you can sweep us all under one rug," Dawood whispered as he continued to watch the report. He knew that he had spoken up for Farrokh who was openly being wronged and he knew that his actions, his disobedience in an essence, would draw attention. "It certainly did draw Iman's attention," Dawood whispered and smiled as he thought of the young woman. If there was ever an example of women with power in Islam, she was the one. She had raised herself, gained an education, and was now educating others in Islam. She was estranged with her family and Iman had made that very clear. She didn't say much about her family except that she was no longer welcome once she converted to Islam. Her sister, Artemis's, attempts at having her family brought together had apparently failed miserably. "I never considered getting married because I never knew that families could work. That was until I saw you raising Khadijah," Iman had explained to him. Khadijah didn't have a mother in the traditional sense, but had family that was more than making up for it.
He had courted a woman before, but this was different from that, Dawood admitted to himself. Annie wanted glamor, money, and everything flashy. Iman wanted family. That was a big difference in Dawood's book. She didn't ask how much his net worth was or how much he had in debt. She didn't ask if he owned his own home or what car he drove. These were all questions that Annie had explicitly asked. Iman was different, very different, from Annie. Still, he was cautious because this decision would no longer just affect him, but would affect the most important person in his life, his daughter. Dawood sighed and glanced at the clock before reaching for his prayer rug. His faith was important to him, it always had been. He settled for a woman who didn't understand that when it came to Annie. He had no intention of doing that again and from what Dawood had seen, Islam was just as important to Iman, if not more. Dawood caught himself smiling again as he thought of the woman who had proposed to him. "I felt that it was my right, as a Muslim woman, to propose to you," Iman had explained calmly when Dawood asked why she proposed to him. Dawood continued smiling when he began praying. He heard a knock on his front door, but completed his prayer before heading towards the door to see whom it was.
He found it strange that someone was knocking on his door at this time of night. The only people that would actually come to bother him were Ahmed, Ruby, and Rana, but each had their own key to the residence. Strangers generally didn't stop by, especially with the sign outside that alerted them that he was a gun owner. "Yeah? Who is it?" Dawood called out, but got no response. "I ain't opening this door 'til I find out who is out there," Dawood also added and heard a faint feminine voice on the other side. A woman visiting him and at this time? What could she possibly want? Still, he had been taught to help a woman out if he could and opened the door. He immediately regretted it as someone yanked him outside and put a hood over his head. He struggled, fighting fiercely against his captors and tried yelling out, only to be punched hard in the face. He continued to struggle and felt himself being thrown into a car of sorts. "Khadijah!" Dawood cried out as he realized that his daughter was alone in the house, at the mercy of his captors. As if sensing his urgency, his captors removed his hood and Dawood came face-to-face with three people he immediately recognized.
"You," Dawood spat out as he realized his hands had been restrained behind him. "Fancy meeting you here, Mr. Khan," Agent Hoffman said as he puffed on a cigarette. "Don't worry, your daughter is safe. Agent Farmer volunteered to guard her while we spoke with you. Do you know why we want to speak to you?" Agent Steed asked as he looked at Dawood. Dawood realized he was in the back of a moving truck and was tied to a chair that was bolted to the ground. He looked around in the dim light and was met with a fierce slap from the third person. "You recognize him, Mr. Khan? You should since you had him excommunicated from your mosque," Agent Steed said as he pointed to the man that slapped Dawood. Oh, he recognized him. It was the same man who had said he wouldn't pray for Farrokh. "I'm Agent Jimenez," the man said as he bared his teeth. "A-agent?" Dawood managed as he looked at Jimenez in surprise. "That's right, Mr. Khan. He's one of us, planted in your mosque to catch terrorists. It took us three years to get him on the board of directors and you came along acting all might and got him thrown out," Hoffman scoffed, but then kneed Dawood in the face. "That's three fucking years we won't get back. Didn't you learn, Khan? Didn't you learn when we put you on the no-fly list and you missed saying goodbye to your dear old mom?" Hoffman asked as he brought his face close to Dawood's.
"You son-of-a-," Dawood began, fighting against his restraints, but was smacked in the back of his head by a board of some sort. "You've been a thorn in our side for a while, Khan. We let you live, thinking you'd probably sober up and stop meddling in things that you have no business in, but here you go again, screwing shit up," Hoffman said as he walked circles around Dawood. "I'm not even Arab. Do you know how long it took me to learn your ways? To blend in?" Jimenez asked and punched Dawood in the face. Dawood knew that his face was now bleeding, but still looked up defiantly at Jimenez. "You got me manhandled at your mosque. I owe you that much," Jimenez sneered before siting down on a box. "We thought you were smarter than the average sandnigger, Khan, but you're not. Someone like you, with so many enemies, should keep a low profile," Steed said. He chuckled as Dawood defiantly whispered, "I've never done anything to have enemies." "Khan, you're a soldier. Half of America hates you just for that fact. Plus, I know of one person who would love to get back at you for the service you did him in Afghanistan. Remember Otis Mills? It'd be a shame if he found out where you live, especially since you have a daughter. You know he likes the ladies," Hoffman said with a sneer. "Motherf-," Dawood began as he struggled against his bonds and finished the expletive by spitting in Hoffman' face. "Oh, Khan. We were just here to warn you not to mess with us again. Looks like we'll just have to ruin your life now. We have senators who want a piece of you Khan, to get their agendas passed. I guess we'll just have to deliver. Throw him out," Steed said as he motioned to Jimenez. "See you real soon, Khan," Jimenez grinned before punching Dawood, causing him to fall limp.
He awoke in his bed with a note pinned to his shirt. "Nice home. Cute kid. Enjoy it while it lasts. Hoffman," Dawood read and quickly stumbled out of bed to check on Khadijah. He opened Khadijah's door and fell to his knees in tears as he realized that she was still safe, exactly the way he had tucked her in. He crawled on all fours to the side of Khadijah's bed and kissed her forehead while tears silently cascaded down his cheeks. The fear of losing her was too real. They had come into his home, had dragged him away, and watched his daughter. They could have done so much more. He couldn't keep her safe by himself. He realized that now. Before the FBI did something to hurt his daughter, Allah had sent Iman to be his wife, his partner, and Khadijah's mother. What was going to come next for Allah to send someone to be his support? The mere thought of something worse sent a chill down his spine. He inhaled shakily and stood up. He had to think of his daughter. He knew the FBI to be a nasty bunch, but vowed to make sure his daughter was protected before they got their hands on him.
******
Two weeks had passed since the ordeal with the FBI and after voicing his concerns with Rana, Dawood felt as if Hoffman and Steed were merely bluffing. However, he still believed that he needed to seriously consider Iman's proposal for marriage, so he continued seeing her daily on chaperoned dates. Today, he smiled while he stood in line at a local donut shop with Khadijah who had managed to come first in her entire grade, academically. "What do you want?" Dawood asked as he glanced at his daughter. "Can I have anything?" Khadijah asked hopefully. "Anything you'd like, Shehzadi. I'm very proud of you," Dawood smiled. He had lied to his daughter that he had fallen the morning after his ordeal with the FBI. He felt horrid about it, but he couldn't tell her just how terrified he was at that moment. "Can I help you?" The young woman behind the counter asked as their turn finally came up. "Hello!" Khadijah smiled and glanced around. "What are you looking for?" Dawood asked as he followed Khadijah's gaze. "Just making sure there is no one behind us," Khadijah explained. "What can I get y'all?" the young woman smiled as she looked at Khadijah. "I got good grades today so my baba said I can get anything I want," Khadijah smiled. "Is that so? Well good job, little lady. What would you like?" the woman smiled. "Donuts," Khadijah said confidently. "Alright. How many?" The woman asked as she stood next to the donut rack. "All of them," Khadijah said and grinned at her father. "Wait, what?Shehzadi, you can't finish all of them. There's about six dozen there," Dawood explained. "You said anything, Baba. I promise not to waste them," Khadijah said as she put on her best pleading face.
Dawood sighed as he carried six-dozen donuts to their car. Khadijah smiled triumphantly as she sat in her seat and placed a box on her lap. "I should have thought this through," Dawood sighed. He remembered that he promised himself that he'd never give an open promise to Khadijah again one time when she bought all the princess action figures in a store when he promised her "anything." Now he watched as the little girl happily chomped through two donuts while he drove them out of the parking lot. "Baba, are we still going on a date with Ms. Abdullah?" Khadijah asked as she happily ate her donuts. "Yes, ma'am. Try not to get too messy and leave the donuts in the car. I don't want to get scolded by your Aunt Rana," Dawood sighed. "You're the best baba, ever!" Khadijah declared and continued to eat her donuts. After going through three donuts, Dawood watched as Khadijah began to doze off. He smirked and shook his head. He knew full well that she would become knocked out once her tiny stomach was full. That's just how she was in cars, yet he still bought her six-dozen donuts because Muslims don't break promises.
He drove for another half an hour and parked in front of a small building. He had never been there before, he realized and read the sign on the front lawn, "Iman House." Wait, what? Was he at Iman's house? This wasn't where they were supposed to meet. They were supposed to meet at a charity. When he turned the car off, Khadijah awoke suddenly and yelled out, "We're here!" Dawood went around the car and unbuckled Khadijah's seat before helping her out. "Baba, bring the donuts. We're sharing with everybody!" Khadijah declared and carried a box of donuts up the front steps. Iman opened the front door as Khadijah reached the top step and smiled before calling out, "Assalam alaikum, little one. What have you brought here?" "Donuts. LOTS of donuts. I got good grades," Khadijah explained. "Welcome, Dawood," Iman called out. "Is this your house?" Dawood asked in confusion. "Yes and no. I started this home, but I do not live here. This is a safe zone for those women who are being domestically abused or are thrown out because they have become Muslim. There weren't a lot of resources out there for sisters who newly joined Islam. I know, since I had quite a bit of trouble early on when I became Muslim. I decided to provide the resources that new Muslim women would need to get on their feet," Iman explained as she took three boxes of donuts from Dawood.
"That's quite admirable," Dawood admitted. "I'm just doing my part. Unfortunately, since this is a safe zone and many women here are still healing and may be in various states of hijab or lack thereof, I ask you not to go into any of the rooms with the green stickers on them," Iman said as she led the way down the hall. "I'll just follow you," Dawood suggested and followed Iman into a large hall with many tables in it. "This is the cafeteria," Iman explained and placed a box on each of the tables. "That's perfect!" Khadijah exclaimed. "Did you plan this, Shehzadi?" Dawood asked in surprise. "With me. Yes, she did," Rana said as she popped her head into the cafeteria. "Aunt Rana said that Ms. Abdullah helps people that need it. Plus everyone likes donuts, so I wanted to help too," Khadijah explained. "Clever girl," Dawood smiled and sat down at a table near the doorway. "She found out about this at daycare one day while you were at work and Sister Rana picked her up," Iman explained. "Ah, well, it's all for a good cause, right?" Dawood sighed. "Yes, it is," Rana agreed.
Dawood watched as Iman placed a plate in front of Khadijah with a stack of donuts. The little girl clapped excitedly and dug into them quickly. "You're spoiling her," Dawood said as he looked at Iman. "You've had her for five years more than me. I intend to be her mother. I think I should start catching up," Iman smiled. Rana sat next to Dawood and said, "Slow down, Shehzadi. You might get a tummy ache." "But they're so delicious!" Khadijah said with a full mouth. "Don't talk with your mouth full," Iman and Dawood said in unison. Iman blushed as she looked away and excused herself. "Did she just get embarrassed?" Rana asked as she looked at Dawood. "I think so," Dawood chuckled. He watched as Iman picked up a box of donuts and disappeared down the hallway. "I'm going to take a nap," Khadijah whispered and closed her eyes as she lay her head on the table. "Little monster knows nothing, but eating and sleeping," Dawood smiled as he looked at Khadijah fondly. "What do you think about Iman?" Rana asked as she glanced at Dawood.
"She's pretty great," Dawood admitted but kept the rest of his opinion to himself as he watched Iman come back into the room and sit down next to Khadijah. The young woman wiped Khadijah's face gently with a paper towel and then wiped her hands. She then picked her up and cradled her in her arms as she looked at Khadijah fondly. "Hi," Khadijah mumbled sleepily as she waved at Iman. Iman smiled and gently touched the little girl's face before whispering, "Hello, little one. Go ahead and sleep some more. I have you." Dawood felt his heart race once he realized that he liked the picture that was set before him. Iman's eyes showed the adoration she felt for Khadijah. Her protective embrace showed that she truly did care for the little girl who nearly five minutes ago, was trying to polish off a dozen donuts. "Iman," Dawood called out. It was Iman's perfect smile, the way she gently kissed Khadijah's forehead and the way she looked up at Dawood when he called her name that made him spontaneously whisper, "Will you marry me?"