Yusuf's POV
The scent of the food made my stomach grumble. I was patiently waiting for someone to ask me to start eating. No one had touched the food yet.
"Hamzooo." Came a female's voice from the door. Hamza didn't hear her. He was looking down at his phone. I was about to tell him someone was calling him when a girl walked into the room. Immediately I looked down. She began speaking to my mum while I wondered about why my mum asked me to drive her here and not Javed, my brother. She usually asked him to drive her everywhere. I didn't mind her asking me. In fact, I was flattered. My ankle was beginning to hurt again. I was afraid this would happen. Maybe this was the reason my mum never asked me to take her anywhere. My thoughts were interrupted by the mention of the uni this girl went to. That was fantastic! People from all over Europe moved to London just to study there.
"What do you study?" My mother asked.
"Islamic Studies combined with Arabic." Masha'allah. (God has willed it. - Said as a compliment) This girl was smart. She was so polite and respectful in the way she spoke. I hadn't seen her yet, but it was beginning to get hard not to look at her. I decided to let the pain of my ankle distract me. As I heard her leave the room, I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Start pouring some food. We have to eat before Asr." Hamza told me. I mentally cheered as I filled my plate. It was all so amazing.
"So you said earlier that you did an Alim course." (An Islamic course) I nodded a yes. "So what are you planning on doing with that?" The same question again.
"Go Jannah in'sha'allah." (If Allah wills) I replied. Hamza smiled.
"I mean in this world."
"Becoming a plumber in'sha'allah." I didn't like talking about this. I could feel most people were judging me because I didn't have a degree and wasn't planning on getting one. But Hamza just seemed to be curious.
"That's really good masha'allah." Yeah, he was a good guy. I checked my phone after I finished eating.
"We better get going." I told Hamza.
"We still have 15 minutes. Have dessert." I scanned the table. There wasn't any dessert. "Zayna! Bring the dessert so we can go." A girl came in with a delicious looking cake. I was sure that wasn't the smart girl. She looked too young to be studying in uni. 16 I was guessing. She went back and brought some clean plates and custard. Oh how I loved drowning cake in custard. I really liked this family. They were noisy, but I liked them. The doorbell rang and I heard someone yell 'Safia! It's Hafsa!' followed by 'HAFSA!' and 'SAFIA!' I was sure then that smart girl's name was Safia. It sounded like her voice. I then dismissed the thought of her. I finished the last bit of the cake, savouring it.
"Shall we go now?" I asked Hamza. We got up getting ready to leave. Just then, another man came into the room.
"This is my Uncle Yahya. Uncle, this is Yusuf." We said salaam to each other. I wouldn't have guessed this man was their uncle. He looked quite young, in his mid thirties I'd say.
"Going masjid?" (mosque) He asked. Hamza nodded. "Good. I was just coming to call you." On the way to masjid we all began speaking about football (Soccer). They seemed pleased that I supported the same team as them. It was a little awkward at first but by the time we reached the masjid, we were really good friends. We finished praying Salaah and walked outside. For some odd reason, Safia was still at the back of my head. I wanted to know more about her. Uncle Yahya was looking around for someone. "Have you seen Abubakar?" Uncle asked Hamza.
"No, why?"
"I'll tell you later. You know, I might actually go to his house."
"Abubakar's? That skinny guy with rich parents?" Uncle looked disappointed with Hamza'a description of him.
"Yeah. You go home. I'm going to pop by later on." As uncle said salaam and walked away, I thought about asking Hamza more about Safia. But I was scared. I had been rejected too many times. The first time, I was rejected for looking like an extremist. Second time, I asked if the girl would wear a niqab (face veil) and she rejected me. Then I read into this hijab/niqab issue and came to a personal conclusion, that niqab isn't fardh (compulsory). Then my mum found me a hijabi barbie. I was unsure about the amount of make up on her face and the wig style hijab she wore. I personally found she adorned her hijab so much that the concept of hijab was taken away. I asked her about this and she rejected me for judging her when I really didn't. Then my mum found a girl who I thought was okay. She rejected me for having a limp. I tried telling her my ankle could be treated and the limp wasn't there all the time, but she just said no. This had all made me quite insecure. But I decided to ask anyway with the help of Allah.
"So..." I tried to think of how to start this conversation. "Is all your family as smart as Safia?" I asked. Hamza gave me a questioning look. Of course, he must have been wondering how I knew her name. I began preparing an explanation when Hamza thankfully answered.
"I guess so. But none of us aimed as high. I just settled into the local uni because I don't like travelling. Uncle and Aisha really pushed Safia. They say she has a lot of potential. Uncle Yahya had gotten married early and dropped out of uni. He tried pushing Aisha but she was adamant about getting married and focusing on her marriage. She says she doesn't have regrets but she's pushing Safia to become a teacher. That's what Aisha says she would have done. Safia took their advice and she's now doing very well, masha'allah." That sounded good. I tried coming up with a question to find out more about Safia.
"Seems like your family marry early. How come Safia didn't get married?" Hamza gave me another questioning look.
"Why? Do you want to marry her?" I felt my heart drop. I know what brothers are like, I was one myself! We were overprotective creatures ready to poke out the eyes that laid on our sisters. I looked away, silent. In reply to my silence, Hamza said, "It's cool if you want to. Safia's looking to get married anyway." I looked over at him to see if he was joking. He was serious. "I spoke about it with her around a year ago. She told me to look for her. I said I would, but I haven't been true to my word. And she's searching for me too. Makes me feel a little guilty." I must say I was pleasantly surprised by his attitude. I remained silent, trying to think of an answer. I wanted to get to know her before marrying her. How was I thinking about marrying a girl I only heard speak less than an hour ago? "Helloo?"
"Erm..." I cleared my throat. "I'd like to get to know her." I said honestly. It was too early to talk about marriage. Hamza looked thoughtful.
"Take my number. I wanna get to know you first, before I let you anywhere near my sister." That sounded more brotherly. And it sounded like something I was comfortable with. I gave him my number and we avoided the topic of Safia from that moment onwards. We approached the house and I was hoping to catch a glance of Safia before we went home. We sat in the room we were in before. A girl came in carrying tea. I saw a hijab from the corner of my eye and I began feeling nervous. I looked up to see it was Zayna. To hide my disappointment I began a conversation with Hamza again.
"The food was delicious." I told him.
"Safia made it." He said glaring at me.
"Don't look at me like that. I didn't know. I thought your mum made it." He smiled and changed the topic to my Alim course again. Then it hit me then that Hamza was probably interrogating me for Safia. He was trying to get to know me. I tried making myself sound the best I could without lying.
"You're trying too hard. It's okay, calm down. I won't judge you. I'm just getting to know you." Hamza told me. Although I should have felt embarrassed, I was humbled by what he said.
"Yeah, I know. I guess I've just been judged a lot in the past. You know, having no degree but having long beard," I confessed.
"I know what you mean. It's like society expects everyone to be the same," Hamza replied and I nodded in agreement. We got into an interesting conversation and just as I was getting comfortable, my mum called out my name.
"Yusi, let's go." I got up from my seat and Hamza and his mum walked us to the door. We said our goodbyes and left. I met uncle Yahya outside before I got into the car. We briefly said salaam to each other before he went running in calling after Safia. I still hadn't seen her. It was then I realized that I had just agreed to get to know a girl who I had never seen for the prospect of marriage. I began to worry. Before I could question what I was doing, I remembered, whatever happens, happens for a reason. If I ended up marrying this girl and she was hideous, I will still love her and find her beautiful with the help of Allah. And I was sure it wouldn't be too hard because she makes delicious food.