Roza
The movie marathon is great. Ali and I finished the first two Harry Potter movies and are on our third one.
"I love this movie but it's ending is just so avoidable it makes me a kind of angry!" I huff out in annoyance.
"I know, if only they killed that annoying rat, everything else that happened after could have been avoided!" Ali exclaims.
We glance at each other and burst into laughter. I laugh so hard that I start crying.
Ali panics. "Oh no, why are you crying now?"
"You--you do realize--that we sound like te-ter-terrorists right now, right?" I wheeze, ignoring his question.
"Oh you're laughing," he says, relieved.
I immediately sober up. What the hell is going on with me, why do I keep on displaying so much emotion in front of Ali? Mama would kill me right now if she was alive. I have to be more stoic from now on, I can't grow too close to Ali. He's my guardian, but he's still a non-Muhram.
I glance at my phone and notice the time: 1:02. "Salaat," I announce.
Ali checks his watch and raises his eyebrows. "Wow, already? That was fast," he remarks.
We get up and go to different bathrooms to do wudhu. After I do wudhu, I go to my room and try to pray; as usual, however, it's hard to concentrate. "Allahu akbar," I declare as I raise my hands to my ears. I begin to recite surah al-Fatiha. I wish chocolate was real medicine, I think. I finish surah al-Fatiha and begin reciting surah Ikhlas. Emma Watson is so pretty, I wish I could be like her. I bow down into ruku. Stop thinking brain, focus. I prostrate into sajda. Praise be to my lord, the purest, the highest. Oh Allah, send your blessings down on Muhammad and his family. Yaaas gurl, that's what I'm talking about. I sit up. Allah is the greatest. I ask for his forgiveness and turn to him. I prostrate again. Maybe I can finish my salaat while concentrating completely. I sit up and then stand up to start the next rakaat. Yaaas, go me. Imma go to heaven and laugh at all my haters. The same cycle repeats throughout the salaat, and when I finish, I'm left with a feeling of dissatisfaction. Why can't I ever focus on my prayers. When I study I'm the model student. But when I pray I need to take meds or something. Ugh, I need chocolate!
I quickly pray Asr and then qadha for Fajr. I'm able to concentrate more for those prayers, so I feel slightly better. When I go back to the living room, Ali's on the phone ordering pizza.
"...olives and spinach...yes, with a crunchy thin crust...no cut please...thank you," he says before ending the call. He looks over at me. "Pizza will be here in twenty minutes."
give him a small smile. "Sounds great," I tell him, remembering to maintain a mild attitude.
Ali clears his throat. "Listen, there's something I want to talk about," he announces.
"Go ahead," I say.
Ali clasps his hands behind his back and looks down. There's a momentary silence. He sighs and looks up at me. "I've been thinking about what you said, about how you want to do something about the man who murdered your parents. Well, I want to help. I have a plan, if you're willing to hear me out."
I still at his words. He wants to help with catching my parents' murderer? "Why do you want to help?" I ask him.
Ali leans against the couch and curls his fingers on its edge. He looks down, closes his eyes, and clenches his jaw. "That bastard killed my aunt and uncle and many innocent people. He hurt you in more ways than one," he growls. He raises his head and looks me in the eye. "I can't just sit back and do nothing. I'm going to help you," he declares.
His determination moves me. I look away from him, trying to regain my thoughts. He said he had a plan, didn't he? "You said you had a plan. What is it?" I ask.
Ali smiles. "I'm glad you asked," he says.
...
Ali
Roza was surprisingly more accepting of the plan than I thought she would be. After laying out the basics, she made a few suggestions of her own.
"Why don't we ask your mother for some clues?" she asked. "Khala Nawras may know someone who hated my parents. Maybe we can find something there."
"Not bad," I remarked. What she said next nearly drove me crazy.
"I can use myself as bait to lure the murderer out," she pipes up. "It'll be so cool, the police can hide nearby while I chill alone in a park and--"
I cut her off before she could finish relaying her crazy plan. "Hell no! Are you crazy?! Do you want to get yourself killed?! That's it, no more involvement from you. Forget that this conversation happened," I exclaim.
Roza's mouth dropped open. "What?! Why?! You can't tell me what to do!" she cries in outrage.
"Actually, I can and I will. I'm your guardian and what I say goes," I say.
Her lips thinned, her nose flared, and her eyes widened in absolute fury. "That's not fair! I can't believe you!" she yelled before turning around and stomping back to her room, slamming her door shut.
That was hours ago and the both of us are still mad. We're both locked in our rooms, seething. The sound of the door being unlocked can be heard. Mama must be back from her visit to her friend's house.
"Ali? Roza? What's going on, where are you guys?" she asks.
Neither of us say anything. I'm in my room throwing fists at the punching bag (I have a mini gym in my room) while Roza...well, I don't know and I don't care about what she's doing.
"Ali?" Mama asks as she enters my room and sees me beating the poor bag. "Ali, habibi, what's going on? Why won't you or Roza answer me?"
At the mention of Roza's name, I punch the bag so hard, it flies back and hits the wall with a loud thud, sending out vibrations that shake the room and make dust fall from the ceiling. I stand back, my fists down, breathing heavily. Sweat runs down my face and body, staining the collar and underside of my shirt.
"Don't talk about her," I growl.
Mama is bewildered. "Who? Roza? Why not?" she questions.
I grind my teeth together. "I told you not talk about her, that includes saying her name!" I shout.
Mama flinches and steps away at the harshness of my voice. I immediately feel bad for yelling at her.
"I'm sorry," I apologize, turning towards her. "I'm just really upset right now."
"That's fine. If you won't talk I'll just leave," she says before exiting my room.
I sigh and slump on my bed. First I yelled at Roza, and just now I yelled at my mom. I'm such an asshole.
I hear sounds of conversation coming from Roza's room. I can't understand much of what is being said as the walls muffle their conversation. Still, I can tell that they're arguing.
A door opens outside. The argument becomes much clearer as Mama and Roza leave her room.
"I told you I don't want to talk to him," I hear Roza say.
"I don't care, you two can't fight," Mama insists.
"Don't drag me, I can walk!" Roza exclaims as my mother drags her into my room. I tiredly look up at the angry teenager. Her face is red, from crying, rage, physical exertion, or all three I don't know. Her eyebrows are furrowed together and her mouth and nose are twisted into a snarl. She looks like an angry toddler whose toys were taken.
In a moment of seriousness, I crack up.
Mama and Roza stare at me like I've gone crazy. I pay them no mind and continue to laugh like crazy.
"What are you doing? Stop laughing!" Roza demands.
I laugh even harder. God, she's such a kid! I completely forgot that she's a teenager because of all the drama that happened recently, but my God did her actions today remind me of that fact.
"Ali, why are you laughing?" Mama asks, concern clearly etched on her face.
I gasp for breath, and after several attempts, I manage to finally regain control of myself. I look at Roza. "You're such a kid," I state. Wrong move.
Roza's nose flares up. "A kid? Me? Excuse you, at least I'm not the one shaking walls of this place!" she retaliates.
"No, you're a kid," I insist. "You make crazy, dangerous plans and throw a fit when you don't get your way. You're a kid Roza, and unless you start acting more mature, I won't change my mind."
Her mouth flaps open and shut; clearly she doesn't know what to say.
"Ali, don't insult your cousin like that," Mama chastises me.
"No Khala, it's fine," Roza assures her before turning to me. "You think I'm the only kid here? May I remind you that you were the one that started shouting first, you were the one that overreacted and said that I couldn't be involved in the plan anymore!"
Now it's my turn to be at a loss for words. She's right, but I won't let her know that.
"Roza, how could you yell at your cousin like that? A proper Muslima never raises her voice," Mama chastises her.
She visibly struggles to keep her mouth shut, I can see it from the way clenches her fists presses her lips firmly into a thin line.
"Mama, could you leave Roza and I alone for a bit?" I ask her. Her presence would only fuel our rage, and right now that's the last thing we needed.
Mama looks offended at first but after seeing the pleaful look I send her, she swallows her pride and leaves the room, keeping the door open.
Now Roza and I are alone. She glares at me.
"What, now that Khala is gone you're going to insult me some more?" she ridicules.
"Why are you so mad?" I ask her, ignoring her jab.
"Uhh, because you won't let me partake in the plan and called me kid for getting mad about it," she says sarcastically.
"Okay, here is where you misunderstand. I didn't call you a kid for getting mad about getting kicked out of the plan. I called you a kid because you honestly expected me to let you put yourself in danger to lure out the murderer. And when I failed to meet your expectations, you got mad at me. That's why I called you a kid," I reason.
She huffs in annoyance. "Fine, let's say that I was being childish. You didn't have to yell at me right away when I suggested to use myself as bait! You could have just said no and moved on," she points out. "The only reason why I got mad is because you overreacted and yelled at me."
Oh. I thought she got mad because I wouldn't let her use herself as bait.
"I thought you got mad because I didn't let you use yourself as I bait," I confess. "I'm sorry that I overreacted and yelled at you. I shouldn't have called you a kid."
Her expression softens. "I'm sorry too. I was pretty rude too," she apologizes.
"You know that I only got mad because I want to protect you, right?" I ask her.
She looks away. "I do now," she quietly answers.
There's an awkward silence.
"Are you hungry?" I ask her, trying to dispel the awkwardness.
"What happened to that pizza you ordered?" she pipes up.
Oh yeah! The pizza! "I totally forgot about it," I say. "The delivery boy must've left with it."
"Oh well, we have ice cream. We can finish the Harry Potter movies while eating it," she suggests.
"Great idea!" I say.
We smile and leave the room together.
I really care about this young cousin of mine. Our fight today made me realize that. I will protect her and take care of her to the best of my ability, just like my aunt and uncle took care of me.