Hello lovely people! Have fun with this chapter. DON'T FOCUS ON THE ROMANCE. THERE ARE OTHER LESSONS TO BE LEARNED!!!
I REPEAT, DO NOT FOCUS TOO MUCH ON ADAM AND MAYSA. YOU WILL MISS SO MUCH IF YOU DO.
"Not everything concerning love and attraction is painful, Maysa." -- Zakariya Malik, COAMG.
Chapter 30
My Crazy Family, Love, and Heartbreak
☼ Maysa Malik ☼
My hand turns the knob, and my first glimpse at what’s past the door I just opened is enough to make me reel back. “Maysa?” Adam stands up quickly. I keep my eyes on the floor to shield my face from view, but I can see him straighten and stand up.
Knowing I’m going to have to face the music some time or another, I whip my face up quickly with a fake smile on my face, so quickly that my head protests in pain. Shut up, head. “Hey! Sorry, wrong room. I’ll catch you later.”
I spin around, the material of my dress tangling around my legs, and start to walk away. “Mays, wait. Shazia, can I talk to Maysa for a second?”
Shazia reaches over and places a delicate hand on Adam’s broad shoulder, and the size of her hand and his shoulder is a sharp contrast. “Yeah, no problem. You know where to find me.” Adam stares at her for a second, it’s only for a second, but the reality is that her hand is still on his shoulder and it takes him a prolonged second to gently push it away.
Shazia saunters out of the room, and it looks like she’s about to bump her shoulder against mine, so I discreetly angle myself away from her. I don’t miss the look she gives me. After she leaves, I look up at Adam.
Those eyes that I’ve always loved lock with mine and before I completely lose it, I walk past him into the room and sit down on a couch. “What do you want to talk about?” I bring my legs up onto the couch and rock back and forth gently with my arms wrapped around my legs.
He sits a couple of feet away from me, on a desk chair. He runs his hands through his hair a couple of times. “I-look, Mays, um…what you saw just now…well, it wasn’t what it looked like.”
“Ok.” Then what was it really? That’s what I want to ask, but in my heart I know that Adam is a good Muslim, mashallah. But just the fact that she was all over him like that….
He’s not looking at me. He’s looking out the window that for some reason doesn’t have the curtains drawn even though it’s getting late out. I observe his face and I know that he’s nervous because he’s rubbing his thumb against his palm. You don’t go eight years without picking up things like that about a person, especially the boy who was your first crush.
“Shazia kind of just had her arm around me. I was telling her to stop when you walked in.” I bite my lip and nod at him. The relief washes over his face and he grins at me, and then smirks playfully.
I don’t know what it is about that smirk but it pisses me off so much. I think it’s because it feels like he thinks that with just one sentence everything will go back to normal. Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Guess you weren’t fast enough to tell her to stop though, huh?” I said it out of jealousy. I will admit this straight up. I made that sarcastic, condescending remark out of jealousy. I wish I could talk it back, I wish I could be a better person, but no one alive can always be an angel, right?
His face shifts from relieved to shock. I wince mentally. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing.” I get up to leave.
“Maysa, stop.” His tone is commanding and authoritative.
I whip around. “What?!”
“Tell me what you mean.”
I shoot him a dry look. “Or what? You’ll set Shazia on me? Because she already hates me enough.” It’s like someone programmed a biyotchy-comment generator where my brain is supposed to be.
“What the hell do you have against Shazia? I don’t understand why you two don’t like each other!” He nearly yells in frustration.
“You’d have to be an idiot not to understand why.”
“Well, I guess I’m in idiot then.”
“Yeah, yeah you are.” I hiss out.
“So tell me what you mean.”
“No.”
“Why? Since when are you all talk and no action?”
“Since when are you all action and no talk? Huh? Because you seemed pretty damn comfortable with Shazia’s arm around you, but for some damn reason, you and I don’t even talk anymore. That’s what I mean, Adam.”
I try my best to stay calm. That’s who I am; the calm one. The collected one. The one that doesn’t let her emotions show. God, you get the idea.
“So this is about why we haven’t been talking recently?” He asks cluelessly.
If I had a stick, umbrella, anything right now, I would have used it to give Adam a good smack upside the head. You idiot! I want to scream.
“Oh my God.” I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Because I could say the exact same thing to you.”
“Wait, what? “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugs and starts to walk away. I grab his arm before I can think and shout, “OH HELL NO! You are not walking away from me.” I push him back lightly so that he falls back onto the couch and sits up; I cross my arms and wait for him to say something. It’s only then that I realize that I just touched him. The heat flames to my cheeks when I realize my mistake. Ya Allah it was a mistake. Please forgive me. I make a note to pray for forgiveness after Isha namaz.
He stands up and laughs mirthlessly. “I could say the same thing about you. You don’t seem to have a problem with Drew putting his arm around you yet we can’t even talk without you yelling at me.”
I bristle at his mentioning of Drew. “I was about to tell Drew to stop!”
“Same thing with me and Shazia.”
Infuriating bo—“Shazia knows about the no-touching rule! Drew doesn’t! The situations are utterly different!” I shout.
His silence fills me with dread. He likes her. God, he likes her. “Shazia and I have nothing between us.” He growls.
I raise an eyebrow and refrain from snorting in disbelief. “Ok, Adam.”
“What the hell is your problem?!” He suddenly shouts.
“What’s yours?”
“I don’t have a damn problem!”
Each question and statement is louder in volume. We’re standing face-to-face with distance between us, and we’re breathing hard. I know the fury is apparent on both of our faces.
He shuts his eyes and his black eyelashes cast shadows on his lightly tanned skin due to the one desk lamp that’s on in this room. “You know, sometimes I feel like I don’t know you at all.” He says. His voice cracks a little bit and he clenches his jaw tightly in anger.
“I feel like I don’t know you because you’re definitely not acting like the guy that I’m friends with.”
He flinches and opens his eyes to glare at me. “Shazia and I aren’t—”
I cut him off. “Yeah, I get it.”
He exhales a loud breath and then shouts, “You know what? You’re right. I do like Shazia. She actually takes the time to listen to me whereas you—”
His eyes widen when he sees the shock—and hurt—register on my face. The tears gather at the corners of my eyelids and I widen my eyes as big as I can. I refuse to let the tears flow. He opens his mouth once, and then closes it. Looking away from me, he runs his hands through his hair again. Finally, after what seems like forever, I hear his voice. “Maysa, I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. Please—”
“Adam, you wouldn’t have said that if there wasn’t some truth in it.” Taking a deep breath and ignoring the feelings churning inside me, I continue. “I’m sorry too. I’m sorry firstly for walking in on you guys like that. And you know what? I’m sorry for everything I just said.” I turn to walk out.
“Mays, please….” His voice is soft yet pleading.
I shake my head. “Adam, you’re right. Shazia takes the time to listen to you. I don’t. Just now was an example of that.” I give him a tight smile. “You deserve a better friend than that.” I know where I’m going with this, and he knows it too. His eyes widen and he starts protesting but I hold up a hand and rub my eyes to disguise the extra wetness of my eyes.
But before I can say anything, we hear voices in the hallway. At the same time, we realize that it’s Noha and Zakariya.
This isn’t the way to end the conversation, but I need to get a hold of myself. So I do the only thing I know how to do well. I bottle up the pain and with as much dignity as I can muster, I open the door and walk out. I walk out on Adam, I walk out on that pain.
You know what the funny thing about walking away is? It’s much harder than it seems in the movies. Much harder.
☮ ☮ ☮
“Maysa! Mashallah you look gorgeous, darling!” My aunt smiles at me brightly and I feel the knot of unease in me loosen a little bit. Maybe this time it won’t be that ba—“But you seem to have put on some weight since the last time I saw you. And your skin isn’t as clear. You seem like you’ve been breaking out.”
Seriously, how do you respond to that? I strive to keep my face neutral and I give her an awkward smile. My mom sees my expression and quickly suggests all the girls go into the kitchen to catch up. I smile at her gratefully and wait for them to go inside with my cousins Zainab and Fatima. Nazia and I lag behind. “Oh, they’ve been here for an hour and they’re already making me mad.” Nazzy whispers in fear of being heard. If we are heard…oh God. That’ll be the end of it.
I give her a girl-I-feel-you look but before I can say anything, Mom discreetly motions for us to join them in the kitchen. Sighing, we comply.
See, I love my Aunt Aasia a lot, but she and I don’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things (not that she knows, or cares). She’s my father’s sister, though, and for that, I have to respect her because she took care of my dad for most of his childhood. Her early life was hard, and when she was twenty-three, after raising my father and my other two aunts and uncles, she married the man who is now my Uncle Ishaq. He made it big in the business world, and they’re now one of the richest couples in theUS, mashallah.
My cousins Fatima and Zainab grew up in a lap of luxury, so cooking, cleaning, housework, and keeping things tidy to them is as foreign as ancient Greek. Our upbringings are drastically different, but family is family. The blood you share symbolizes the obligation you have to love them, right? Even though the world doesn’t—and shouldn’t—work like that.
“How’s school?” I ask Zainab, who is older than me by a year, making her Zakariya’s age.
She doesn’t bother looking up from her iPhone, instead, answering monotonously, “Boring.”
I nod, not really knowing what else to say. I shoot Nazia a helpless glance and she shrugs as well, not knowing what to do. Fatima, who’s older than Nazia by two years (a year younger than me), is immersed with playing on her phone as well.
“So, Maysa.” Aunt Aasia addresses me. My stomach drops in dread. “You’ll be graduating soon! What’s next? Getting married and settling down?” Before I can say no, before I can say that I want to pursue an undergraduate degree and then maybe go to graduate school, she continues. Of course. When has she ever really listened to me?
“I’m sure it is, sweetheart! Liyana, are there any potential boys in your community that you have an eye on for Maysa?”
Mom shakes her head. “We haven’t really been thinking about Maysa getting married yet, Aasia. We want her to focus on her education, get a successful career inshallah, and give back to the community.” Thank you, Mom. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Aunt Aasia nods without really listening and waves a dismissive hand at Mom’s words. “Yes, yes, that may be true, but I’m telling you, it’s quite important to get girls married. There are no good boys these days and in a world like this, it’s best that the children are married with a man to support them!”
Mom’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “There are some great Muslim boys in our community, Aasia. And inshallah, as much as Yahya and I want a man to support Maysa financially and emotionally, we also want her to be able to look after herself. Education is the way to an independent life, especially for a woman.”
“Yes, and I’m telling you, it’s best to marry her into a well-off family. She’ll be set for life. There are so many wealthy, eligible Muslim boys inAtlanta! Send her there for a summer and with a makeover and a trip…or two to the salon, she’ll have marriage proposals flooding in.”
Oh no. Hell no. Please don’t tell me that the next time we go toAtlantaI’m going to have Aunt Aasia playing matchmaker for me. “I think it’d be best to find a boy here inConnecticut, Aasia.” My mom says quickly, seeing my expression.
She thinks for a moment. “What about that boy whose family came over for dinner the last time we were here?”
Fatimalooks up from her phone. “The oldest one was hot.” She mumbles, loud enough for us to hear, but not the moms. I can hear her because she’s sitting right next to me.
I can’t remember who she’s talking about until Nazia blurts out, “Ahmed’s family?”
The shock is on my face before I can control my neutral expression. “Ahmed?! The one that was my age?”
Aunt Aasia nods. “Well, I had the eldest one in mind. But the one that is your age is quite handsome as well. Why not him?”
I cough awkwardly and Nazia answers for me. “Um, Mays and Ahmed don’t really talk much.”
“Well, what about…oh! Why didn’t I think of him sooner? The brother of your friend…the sweet girl that I met when we bumped into them at the mall? Sweet, but a little headstrong. Girls should be more reserved and obedient. But yes, her brother!” My expression is blank and upon seeing that, she describes the boy further, even though I already know who she’s talking about. “He’s Zakariya’s best friend, isn’t he?”
Zainab looks up this time. “Damn, he’s freaking sexy. I’d hit that.”
My hands curl up into tight fists, but they’re hidden underneath the table so no one can see. Oh hell no, Zainab. He is mi—no, no he isn’t. Because I ruined it. “Oh. Well he—”
Dad unknowingly prevents me from responding when he and Uncle Ishaq walk in and propose that we all have dinner soon, for which I am grateful.
Delicious comfort food is what I need right now. Hey, I may be an athlete, but I’m a girl at heart. Screw diamonds, because comfort food is definitely a girl’s best friend.
☮ ☮ ☮
“So I’m thinking about buying one hundred shares of that company once it goes public.” Uncle Ishaq declares to Dad. I listen with interest. Anything with numbers is interesting. Don’t hate. And besides…the stock market is interesting to hear about.
“Maysa! Are you listening?” Aunt Aasia asks in exasperation. Mom shoots me a pay-attention-or-you’ll-get-it-from-me look.
“Yes, sorry Aunty.” I apologize.
“Like I was saying earlier, have you considered marrying Zakariya’s friend?” I groan to keep some of the horror off my face. Not that I would mind marrying Adam. My mind wanders to what it would be like. To have him always there for emotional support. To talk to him about my problems, to hear about his own. To greet him and comfort him when he comes home. To walk outside our house and see him playing soccer with our mini-Adams in the backyard. What would they look—
“Maysa!” Nazia shakes me and I snap out of my thoughts. My eyes widen and the only thing my brain says on repeat is oh crap, oh crap when I see my cousins, Zak, Nazia, my mom, and Aunt Aasia all staring at me. Fatima and Zainab giggle and go back to texting with their phones hidden discreetly in their laps. Nazia shoots me a worried look and Zakariya simple stares at me intently before going back to his food.
It’s my mom’s and Aunt Aasia’s stares that make me nervous. Shoot. Did they guess what I’m thinking about? Oh Allah, please no. That would be so embarrassing.
“I’m sorry…were you saying something?”
“I was just asking why you don’t seem willing to marry Zakariya’s friend. Oh Allah. Zakariya, what is that boy’s name?”
“Adam.” Zak says, ducking his head and avoiding Aunt Aasia’s prying eyes.
“Yes! Liyana, do you like him for Maysa?”
My mom sees my not-so-willing-to-entertain-this-conversation expression and she responds carefully. “He’s a lovely boy. I’ve always really liked him. But Aasia, she’s so young. He’s so young. Besides, I don’t know if they’ll be compatible.” My face burns with embarrassment. Why are we talking about this at the dinner table?!
Aunt Aasia stubbornly won’t let the conversation drop. “Yahya, what do you think of Adam for Maysa? I say they would be lovely. Well, I’ve only met him twice, but he left a good impression. And Maysa and his sister are best friends. And he’s Zakariya’s friend as well!”
I’m a daddy’s girl, but the one thing that bothers me about my dad is that he always seems to let his love for my aunt override all else. “He’s a great boy. I like him.” He says, nodding. Then he goes back to his conversation with Uncle Ishaq, completely oblivious to the fact that that’s all Aunt Aasia needs to be one step away from mailing out the wedding invitations.
I telepathically beg him not to let her do anything drastic, even though I know that for everything she does, he won’t object or put his foot down. Please, Daddy. You don’t understand why this subject is so painful. Especially now.
Aunt Aasia beams. “Well I have a good feeling that Maysa and her friend’s brother will get married. Now all you need to do is talk to his parents. Tell me, what is he planning to pursue?”
“He wants to be a neurological physical therapist.”
The disappointment washes the excitement off her face a little. “A physical therapist?” She taps her chin. “Hmm…not that bad I suppose. Is his family well-off?”
“Middle-class.” Nazia mumbles when no one answers the question.
Aunt Aasia beams like we’re already getting married. Nervousness seeps into my bones as I see her expression. Allah knows what she’s capable of. Knowing her, she might even pay Adam’s family a visit before she leaves here. If not now, then next time. The minute the seed of an idea is planted into her head, she has no problem providing the water and sunlight for it to become reality.
“Well then, Maysa! When you’ll get married is up to your parents but I have a very good feeling after hearing their opinions that we all know who you’re going to marry! But after Zainab, of course. She is older than you.” At the mention of marriage and her name in the same statement, Zainab glances up coyly at Zakariya. Oh hell. What now, is my brother going to land on The Jerry Springer Show after he lands his butt in some trouble because of Aiden?
“You’re forgetting the fact that my consent is needed for me to get married!” I don’t mean for my voice to be that loud, but frustration provokes it to be. Everyone stops and stares at me and I can see the hurt flash in Aunt Aasia’s eyes before a surprised expression wipes it away.
My parents look stricken at my behavior; I don’t even have to look at them to confirm it. “I’m…I’m sorry, Aunt Aasia. That was very disrespectful of me. I’m just not ready to talk about marriage…or to get married.” The awkward silence punctuates my hasty explanation. “Um, may I be excused for a few minutes? I have to use the bathroom.
I don’t need to use the bathroom. And I think everyone sitting at that dinner table knew that.
☮ ☮ ☮
I had it coming. I knew I did, and I was fully ready to pay the consequences, until I see the anger on Mom’s face when she comes into the kitchen after dinner the next day. “Maysa Malik!” She whisper-shouts.
I nearly shrivel up in dread. “Yes, Mother Dearest?”
“What is wrong with you?” She nearly shouts. “You’ve been so disrespectful and moody lately!”
I lower my eyes and focus my attention on washing the dishes. “I’m sorry. Last night’s comment just sort of slipped out.” I answer quietly and honestly.
I can hear her sigh. “Maysa, she only comes here once every one of two years. Her impression of you will stick for a long, long time. Please be on your best behavior. This isn’t like you.”
I nod, wanting to be anywhere but here. Why is everything always about keeping up appearances? Why can’t people just look past the superficiality and really see what’s on the inside before they form an opinion about someone? Mom doesn’t say anything but I know that she’s still there. “Maysa, is everything alright?”
I look up and look at her face, but carefully avoid her eyes. “Alhamdulillah. Why?”
“Because you’ve been acting different lately.”
“Sorry, Mom. Just stress from school that hasn’t fully gone away yet.” It’s the partial truth.
I can feel her eyes burning into me and I know she’s not completely sold on the idea. Looking over, I see that she’s standing at the counter, one hand on her hip, scrutinizing me. I flash her a quick smile and go back to getting the grease off of a plate like my life depends on it.
“Is everything alright between you and Zakariya?”
“Yup. Alhamdulillah. We’ve been talking more.”
“Did you get into a fight with Noha?”
The thought of ever even getting in a fight with Noha makes me laugh. What would we fight about? I shake my head, an amused smile on my lips.
“School?”
“No, Ma. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Mom, can’t we just drop the issue?”
“See? This is what I’m talking about. ‘Drop the issue’? Why are you being so disrespectful?” I can tell that she’s frustrated but I am as well.
Dropping the plate back into the suds, I turn to face her. “Mom, I told you I’m fine! What more do you want me to say? There’s nothing wrong!”
Oh shoot. I’ve done it now. My mom doesn’t get angry often but I can see the anger flash in her eyes. “We’ll talk when you cool your mind. Until then, learn how to talk to your mother with respect.” She swiftly walks out to join the adults in the living room. Her ramrod straight back indicates that she’s super pissed off at me right now.
I throw my head back and stare up at the ceiling. My arms are submerged a couple of inches in the soapy suds that are in the sink. After twenty minutes of quietly cleaning the kitchen and getting my thoughts in order, the back door opens with a questioning squeak and then shuts firmly. Converse slap against the tile, a satisfying slap, a slap filled with reassurance that the wearer is home safely.
“Salam.” Zakariya sounds out of breath.
“Hey. Salam. Where were you?”
“Why, did Aunt Aasia ask?”
“No, just wondering.”
“Uh…I left my calculator at Jenny’s house.”
I turn around to face him and put my hands on my hips. “Liar.”
He snorts. “Nosy.”
“Seriously, where were you?”
“Does it matter? I’m home now. Why do you look so upset?”
“Mom just yelled at me.” I admit sullenly.
“About what?”
“Um, about how disrespectful I’ve been lately.” I can hear the embarrassment laced in my sheepish confession.
“Oh yeah. What’s been up with you lately?” He sits down at the breakfast table and scrutinizes me intently. I pretend that the world will end if I don’t get this countertop clean so that I won’t have to meet his eyes.
“Nothing.”
“Who’s the liar now?” I hear the quiet burst of plastic and air as Zak opens a sleeve of Ritz crackers and pops one in his mouth.
“True. That was hypocritical.” I go over to the sink and wash the rag cloth. “It’s just…I haven’t been feeling like myself lately.”
“Why?”
“A lot of things.”
“Like not returning Noha’s phone call?” I glance at him in surprise and he shoots me a patronizing look.
“Just because I’m a guy doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”
I huff and cross my arms, glaring at him. I get to work organizing the utensils drawer just so I have something to do with my hands. “I never said guys were stupid.”
“Yeah, but I know you’re thinking it because of what happened with Adam.”
I glance at him in surprise. “What? How do you know what happened?”
He shoots me a dry look. Oh. Now I know where I get that from. “Maysa, I don’t know exactly what happened but from what you told me and what I saw, I know that you and Adam aren’t exactly chummy right now. Not that I mind. Gives me less to worry about.”
“What is there to worry about?” I ask, bewildered.
Another Ritz cracker goes into his mouth and his stuffed cheeks remind me of a squirrel. I wish I could take a picture of him like this and post it online. Then we’ll see how many girls ask him out. “You insult me by even asking that.”
Despite my bewilderment, I can’t help but laugh. This is the Zak I know and love. “Dude, do you think I’m stupid? I know that Adam likes you and that you like him.” My jaw drops the same time my cheeks redden and I begin sputtering incoherently. He gives me a shut-up-and-listen look. “Why else would you guys be so upset over that little of a fight? If you didn’t have feelings for him, you would be a helluva less upset, especially…” He thinks and then glances at the calendar on the fridge. “Especially one week after it has happened.”
I flop down in a chair next to him. “Um, are you mad?”
Another cracker disappears. I reach over and grab one. “About what? The fact that you have hormones?”
I glare; he laughs. “Well isn’t there some chick rule that you can’t go for your best friend’s brother or your brother’s best friend? I don’t know if Noha’s mad, I doubt it, but I’m not pissed. I mean, if you were after somebody like Niall or Rayyan, I would be hella pissed.”
I throw my arms around him and give him a huge hug. He jokingly protests but I don’t care. “So…what really did happen between you guys?”
If it was anybody else, I wouldn’t have shared but it’s Zak. He’s brother, but he’s also my built-in best friend. So I tell him everything. It’s not what I expected. His reaction, I mean. Well, in all honesty, I had no clue how he would react.
But his silence indicates something is wrong. He’s silent for a long time. Finally, he speaks. “Maysa…I’m going to tell you something and I want you to listen carefully and not feel insulted or hurt, ok?”
“Ok, what is—”
“Hey Zak.” We whip our heads towards the voice. Zainab is leaning against the doorframe, her light brown curls cascading as she tilts her head. I groan. I would like to take this opportunity to mention that Aunt Aasia wants Zainab and Zak to get married. For her, it’s like the next best match since Prince William and Kate. And…well, Zainab is on board with the idea. Zak isn’t, as far as I know, and my parents neither encouraged the match nor discouraged it.
“Salam, Zainab.” Zakariya says awkwardly.
“Can I join you guys?”
“Sure?” Zakariya says it like a question and I laugh at his discomfort.
We talk to Zainab for a couple of minutes. Wait, scratch that. She talks to Zakariya, effectively ignoring me. Not that I mind. I’m one happy camper.
When she finally leaves, Zak goes back to what he was saying. He fiddles with his hands and hair a little. “Mays, I get that this has been this whole crazy ride for you, this whole year, but sometimes…sometimes I think that you focus on your own problems too much.”
I mentally braced myself for whatever he would say, a stern lecture to my heart: don’t get hurt, he’s telling the truth. But there’s a reason my heart and mind aren’t the same organ. One refuses to listen to the other.
“Oh. Um.” I don’t know what to say. Maybe he’s right, but I can’t think of how.
He continues thoughtfully, popping another Ritz cracker into his mouth, eyebrows knit together in concentration and deep thinking. “Like, I don’t want to sound like I’m better and more important but all this time…whenever you yelled at me it was always about how we don’t talk. But…but you never really stopped to ask what was truly the root of the problem. Just about ourrelationship. Does that make sense?” I nod.
“And with Noha…I mean, I know you tell Noha everything and she’s more than willing to listen to you because you two are girls and best friends and—”
“You’re rambling. That’s a run-on sentence.”
An apologetic look. “Sorry. Let me organize my thoughts.” Seconds filled with anticipation pass by. “Ok. It’s Noha’s job as your best friend to listen to you but in the past nine months, how many times have you asked her if she needed to talk, if something was wrong?” I think for a good ten seconds, my mind sweeping over June, July, August…and now, December. I haven’t.
“I haven’t.” I admit.
“Exactly. And…ok, what was Adam doing when you walked in on him and Shazia?”
I’m confused. What does that have to do with anything? “Um…I mean, Shazia had her arm around him…”
“Why?”
“I don’t know…because she likes him?”
“No, I mean, what did it look like she was doing?”
I really think hard for a minute. “Oh. It looked like she was comforting him.” Come to think of it…yeah, that’s what it looked like. Adam had his face in his hands, and he wasn’t looking at her at all. Shazia looked…peaceful. For once. She had her arm around him like she was…oh shoot.
My emotions must have been apparent on my face because Zakariya sees my shift into realization. “Yeah, see? Look, I admit, Adam was being a jerk but that’s because he doesn’t know how to express his emotions that well. He’s just shy like that. Especially…especially around you.” Face palm to the max. “But instead of thinking about him, why he was like that, why he turned to Shazia for comfort when he had you and Noh, you assumed and you let your feelings overpower everything.” I drop my face in my hands. He’s right. He’s so right.
“And…and now, I don’t want to make the blow greater but what about Farah?”
“Huh?”
“Farah. She’s always helping you and Noha out. I guess she’s just…motherly? But I mean, regardless of her nature, she’s always helping you two out and listening to your problems. But the thing with Farah is that she’s a giver. And mashallah she doesn’t ask or expect anything in return. But just because someone doesn’t expect something in return doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t give them something.”
“Wow. How do you…how do you know so much about this? About Farah I mean. And Adam too.”
He’s silent for a minute, and in the background, there’s light laughter and innocent conversation taking place in the living room adjacent to where we are, the kitchen. It’s like a snow globe. We’re on the inside, with all the snow whirling and the ballerina twirling and turmoil and honesty and bleak truth and they’re the outside, surrounded by calm, in the state of calm.
“For the past few months…being isolated, I realized how much I missed. How much I hadn’t noticed, and how ignorant I was to what was right in front of my face.”
That hits me like a spilled secret hits you when you least expect it. How much do I miss because of my self-absorbedness? “And maybe it’s because Farah and I used to be really good friends. Back I the day.”
“When you liked her?”
Instead of turning red or mumbling at me to shut up, my brother just nods. Again, I’m struck at how much he’s grown, not physically, but emotionally and maturity-wise. “Yeah. Back when I liked her.” He laughs quietly. “Man, those were the days.” He leans back in his chair, regardless of the fact that the wooden back is not comfortable.
“What do you mean?” I lean back as well and get as comfortable as I can in a wooden chair. Now it’s nice. Just the two of us, talking. You know how there are moments that you know you’ll remember forever? Right down to the littlest detail? Even if the moment is huge like prom or traveling somewhere? It’s just a simple memory, nothing fancy. But you get this intuition and you know right then and there that this will be something you’ll remember. That’s the way it feels right now.
“I mean…well, I don’t like her anymore. But it’s still a fond memory of the past. This nice reminder of how much things have changed, how far we’ve all come, all that junk.”
I glance over at him in wonder. He’s lost in thought. I stare at his head, where his brain is. He’s literally just flesh and bones but on the inside, in that one small part of his body, is his brain, his mind, something that defines who he is. Isn’t it amazing how that one little thing, a brain, has the capability of thinking and feeling and seeing and just…being? It’s amazing.
“Like see, back then, what was I? Fourteen? Fifteen? Back then, I thought that Farah was like…the girl, the ideal girl, the perfect girl, all that stuff. I was definitely whipped. And we were great friends. But now, it’s funny because it’s three years later, just three short years out of a average life span of eighty-something years, and so much has changed. We’re not the same people we used to be.”
“Did it…hurt? I mean, that gradual letting go?”
He shakes his head. “Not everything concerning love and attraction is painful, Maysa. Sometimes when you have feelings for someone, it’s not about them. It’s about something greater than that, like a test from Allah. Farah was a test. I didn’t get what I wanted at the time, which, I guess, was her, but I got what I needed, which was some great insight on feelings, and a test to make my faith in Allah stronger.”
“Now, if you saw her with someone else, how would it feel like? Like, when we’re a little older and it’s time to get married and everything?”
He smiles. “I would walk up to whatever lucky guy she picked and tell him he’s truly blessed to have someone as awesome as Farah.”
“But I mean…how do you do that? How do you act so casually when there once was a time that this person was all you wanted and could think about?”
“That’s just it. You have to realize what really was there. Farah and I were never meant to be. We were like two puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit right. She was amazing, which is why I liked her, and she still is, but now I don’t like her. It’s because maybe at one point in time, we had the potential of being something, of fitting together. But life is never based on a point in time. It’s based as the whole thing as one.” I understand that.
“But Islam is all about self-evolution, changing as a person. So when you’re looking at relationships, you have to pick someone that you can still fit with even when you change. I changed and with that change, I got different priorities, different things I wanted. And while there’s nothing wrong with Farah even though she changed as well…that ‘x’ factor changed too. Whatever relationship could have come out of that would have been too…small? Yeah, small is the word for it. There’s just so much to do out there. And we’re so young. A hot guy like me can’t be taken that quickly.” He grins.
I whack him on the arm. “What ‘x’ factor?”
He looks up at the ceiling, the Ritz crackers forgotten. Wow. He’s thinking about this hard if he’s not paying attention to food. “The ‘x’ factor. You know how sometimes you’ll meet this one person that has a great personality, and they’re good-looking on top of that?” I nod slowly. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with them but there’s no…connection? Spark? It’s like ‘that girl’s great…for someone else’. You can’t picture them with you. It just doesn’t fit. Like me and Farah don’t fit.”
I look at him in disbelief. Is this what he’s thinking about when he’s off doing whatever he’s doing these days? Love? Girls? I punch him teasingly. “Gosh, getting in touch with your feminine side, Zak?”
He laughs too, that casual, care-free laugh heard on languid, happy nights where worries are locked away and irrelevant. “Yeah, I guess so. But the funny thing is that you don’t know what the ‘x’ factor is. That’s why it’s all so confusing I think. Love, I mean.”
I nod and we sit there in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Then, I reach over to hug him. “Zak?”
“Yeah?”
“Remember all the times you yelled at me when we were younger?”
“Yeah?”
“Well…thanks for all of that. And this, today. For telling me what I’m doing wrong. I appreciate it.”
He slings an arm around me. “What are big brothers for?”
☮ ☮ ☮
The night before school starts, I lie wide away in my bed. That oh-God-school-is-starting-again depression is hitting with full force. You know that deep, hollow feeling you get in your stomach? Yeah, that.
Aunt Aasia, Uncle Ishaq, Zainab, and Fatima all left this afternoon. Aunt Aasia didn’t mention Adam when she left, but she compensated for that by showering me with hugs and kisses. I don’t particularly like being hugged by very many people. Just my family, Noha, Sahanara, Naomi, and Farah. I don’t know. I’m weird, alright?
The next morning, it truly is a battle of the alarm clock versus Maysa and the minute I realize that I have to go to school, my eyes almost prickle with tears at the thought of a day of school. Then I want to mentally slap myself because I really should be thanking God for allowing me one more day to do good things. How many kids there out there wish they could go to school like me? How many kids out there want to get an education but can’t? Seriously, I disgust myself sometimes for thinking so selfishly and thoughtlessly.
Zakariya, Nazia, and I all pray Fajr together (we usually read separately except on school days) and after that, I trudge over to my room to find an extremely amazing outfit that’ll boost my self-confidence. I can’t find one so I just slip on jeans, a forest-green cashmere sweater, and a pure white winter coat with my favorite boots. The amazing-outfit fairy must not be visiting me today. Oh well.
When we get to school, I don’t really want to see anybody. I’m half-tempted to tug at Zak’s arm and plead for him not to leave me, like I used to do when I was younger. Even then, Zakariya was never embarrassed to have me by his side, even if the other boys made fun of him.
We say salam and then part ways. My morning classes all go by quickly, for which I’m thankful. I use Study Hall as an opportunity to sleep while the teacher isn’t looking.
At lunch is when my day starts picking up. I hang out at our usual lunch table for a few minutes before quietly stating that I’m going to go to the library to start my homework. I depart and make my way over to the library. I want to groan when I see who’s at the front desk; the grumpy head librarian. She shoots me a disdainful look as she snootily asks for my pass. I hand it to her and try my best to be civil and polite, but believe me, she doesn’t make it easy.
When I finally get myself settled down, I stare at the blank sheet of paper in front of me, at the jumble of senseless words on glossy pages of a textbook. I get lost in thought, the kind of thought that has you mindlessly looking off at an object while your mind is miles away. I have the next two classes with Adam. And we sit next to each other in both. What am I going to do? Ya Allah! What am I going to dooooo? I mentally wail. To calm my nerves, I begin reciting the Aytul Kursi mentally.
“Noha?” The subconscious part of my brain wonders if Noha is here. But the other part, the dominating part, is still lost in thought. “Look, I just want to thank you for listening to me at the party. I mean, hearing about my crazy family isn’t what—”
I finally look up in confusion. Ahmed is standing next to the table I’m sitting at, behind the chair that’s to my right. He’s not looking at me. He’s running his hand through his short, spiked-up hair, books in one hand against his thigh, staring at the shelves of books in front of him. I take in the sight of him, remembering what Aunt Aasia said. I observe him closely, from his pure white varsity jacket with maroon detailing to the tense hand clutching a human geography and chemistry textbook.
“So yeah.” He finishes off and then turns to look at me, still thinking it’s Noha. His eyes widen in shock when he realizes that it’s me that he’s talking to. Wide brown eyes lined with long black lashes—why do boys always have enviable lashes?—on medium tanned skin. I never really took the time or made the effort to notice Ahmed. Zakariya’s words echo in my head. Focus on others. Stop thinking just about yourself.
“Whoa, I thought—god damn it, I thought you were Noha.”
I look down at myself. “Oh. Yeah, we’re wearing similar clothes today.”
Even though his skin is tan, you can see the blush creeping in on Ahmed’s face. “Um, sorry.”
He starts to walk away. I think about what Zakariya said again. What Ahmed just said. “Is your family really that crazy?”
He freezes and then turns around slowly. “Yeah.” He says finally, after scrutinizing me.
I shake my head. “No. I think mine is crazier.” I smile at him slightly.
Ahmed still seems surprised that I’m talking to him but he smiles as well. “I always get a Pakistan-is-great-you-need-to-marry-a-good-Pakistani-girl-and-make-millions-of-Pakistani-babies lecture. Can you beat that?”
“My aunt suggested I marry your big brother. Or you.”
His eyes go wide and he freezes. “How does your aunt know me?!”
“You can sit down…if you want.” I say quietly. He complies and I answer his question. “Remember last year my parents invited your family over for dinner? My aunt and uncle were there…and my two girl cousins?”
“Um, was one of your cousins hitting on my brother big time?”
I roll my eyes and nod. “Well, your aunt has good taste…suggesting you marry me and all.” He declares.
I laugh. “I can see why Noha keeps you around. You’re funny.” I joke.
He laughs too. I can feel my mood brighten up a little bit. At that moment, Noha and Farah come in. “Salam!” They both say. “Salam, Ahmed.” I can see that Noha’s not scowling at him today. He smiles slightly at her and she grins back. Huh. Interesting.
“So this is unlikely. The two of you talking.” Farah says with her eyebrows raised. She knows that I’m not shy, just quiet, and I usually don’t talk to people I’m not close friends with unless I want to or have to. I just like being in my own little bubble, you know?
“Yeah well…Maysa couldn’t resist my charm.” Ahmed flashes me a smile and I can’t help but laugh. Awn, he’s actually pretty cool. And he got significantly cuter over the years. He looks more mature too. I remember how he was our Sunday school teacher’s favorite. He used to get teased about that a lot.
After a little bit, Ahmed says he has to go and after he leaves, silence ensues between me, Noha, and Farah. Then, they bombard me with questions. “Since when are you and Ahmed friends?” Noha asks.
“He started talking to me thinking it was you. Something about thanking you for listening about his crazy family.”
“Awn. That’s sweet. I’ll talk to him about that later.” She says with a serene smile.
“So listen guys….” Farah and Noha look at me with anticipation. “I was talking to Zak a couple of days ago and well…I just want to say sorry.”
“For what?!” They both look genuinely puzzled.
“For always talking about my problems and not even bothering to ask you guys what’s been going on with your lives. I didn’t realize how self-absorbed I was being. And before you guys protest, I know I’m the one that seems to have the most problems. But that’s no excuse for me to completely forget that you guys have stuff going on in your lives too, and you deserve for me to be there for you.”
Noha comes over and hugs me. “I never doubted you’d be there.” She says. Dropping her voice to a whisper, she adds, “And I’m here for you about the Adam thing too.”
Farah hugs me next and though the snotty librarian shoots us a look of disapproval, we don’t care. Before Far can say anything, the librarian comes over. “Public display of affections is not condoned in this library. One of you, please leave.” I want to laugh. Hugging is enough to get one of us kicked out?
I’m about to pick my stuff up and leave but Noha beats me to it. “It’s ok. I’ll leave; I have to go anyway.” She flashes us all a quick smile and walks out. “Good luck with that idiot I call my brother.” She says in a low voice.
Turning back to Farah, who’s shaking her head in disbelief at the retreating back of the librarian, I say, “Shoot. I have the next two classes with Adam. What do I do, Farah?”
She smiles serenely. “You hold your head up like the strong woman that you are and act civilized. Boys are stupid. I swear.” She shakes her head. Damn straight.
I sigh and flop back in my seat. The bell rings with a shrill ring and with my stomach turning and heart beating rapidly, I make my way to class. Ya Allah, please make this easy for me.
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Listen up. THIS IS IMPORTANT. DelinquentCinderella came up with a bloody awesome idea. She wants to create this Ramadan-themed work on Wattpad and she wants you, yes, you, to contribute to it.
Prayers, explanations as to why we do what we do, anything is welcome. Not Muslim? That’s ok! Contribute saying why you’re reading this story!
Secondly, Ramadan is coming up! May all of you be blessed. Go pray taraweeh y’all! Do it do it do ittttttt!
Picture on the side --> CUTE BABIES! They remind me of Noha and Maysa! Oh, and the banner was created by an awesome reader whose name I can’t remember. Please message me so I can give you credit? Thanks!
OH! I got a tumblr. www.simplyaaisha.tumblr.com It’s just so that I can document amazing things out there. Check it out!
Questions? www.formspring.com/ashers96
God bless y’all,
Ashh
(And if you don’t believe in God, may you be blessed in terms of health, wealth, family, friends, and overall well-being J)