Twelve
[Adam]
I get home in the evening, Ahmed drove me as well, and before I could ask him to come inside, he tells me mom has already told him he’s having dinner with us (and he shoved me off and told me to carry my own bag because he’s been driving all along, he needs to rest).
After all the greetings, we sit in the living room waiting for mom and the girls to finish cooking. Mom has prepared a feast, not like I’ve been continuously travelling since I’ve graduated from university. Mariam comes from the kitchen and ushers me to follow her. I excuse the guys to leave and walk out of the room. She chooses a quiet enough place and speaks, “Someone proposed to Leen yesterday,” she says. I feel a thud in my chest but ignore it, and hide it from her. Am I that late? “But,” she says again, “I don’t think she’s excited.”
“So, that means . . .?” I ask, my voice barely audible.
“That means I don’t think she’ll accept his proposal.”
“Okay,” I say simply.
“Just ‘okay’?” she asks in confusion. “I thought you care about her,” she exclaims.
“Let’s have dinner,” I say looking behind her at the dining room. “They’ve already set the table.”
“What dinner!” she almost screams. “I don’t understand you.”
“Adam! Mariam!” mom calls.
“Coming!” I tell her, pushing Mariam in front of me.
Mariam is just two years younger than I, and maybe because girls grow up faster, I always feel like she could be even older than me. She has all my secrets, and she’s always given me advice when I needed it.
Everyone is seated and they start eating. I already decided that today I was going to tell them I like a girl and I want to propose to her. But when the time comes, I find myself sweating, and I absent-mindedly touch my forehead and it’s freezing cold. I feel so nervous I almost want to hide under the table.
“Are you having fever, Adam?” mom asks, and I notice I’m still touching my forehead.
“I–” I’m about to say no when Aya touches my forehead too, “No,” she says. “He’s oddly cold.”
“Are you sick?” Omar asks.
“Wanna go to the doctor?” Ahmed suggests.
“No, no, guys I’m really fine,” I say. “I just–” please, words, do me a favor and come out! “I wanted to tell you all something, and I’m feeling a little strange, but I think it’s normal, it’s actually–”
“What are you saying?” Aya almost laughs. “You’re not making any sense.”
“There’s that girl I think I like and I want to propose to her and I want your approval and I want you mom and Omar to come with me,” I said it. Actually spilled it out. Mariam and Ahmed smile to themselves, as they’re the only ones who knew anything. As for the others, no one can imagine the amount and depth of gasps I’ve heard.
“Who’s she?” mom asks. “The flight attendant who’s sticking to you?”
“What?” I ask in bafflement. “Oh, ahhh, you mean Reem?”
Reem is a girl who works with me, she’s a flight attendant and she seems like she’s been having a crush on me for two years now. But she’s nothing like my type. She wears mini-skirts, too much make-up, knows almost every guy in the company, and has dated about ten of them? I don’t know what she sees in me, I’m that guy who hasn’t said a complete sentence to her before, who’s never dated any girl, or even talked to a girl colleague in anything other than work. I don’t go to any nightclubs and I hate parties. I believe she finds me different and she wants to try everything.
I remember all the staff once decided to have dinner together on a Friday, I was really annoyed by what she was wearing, like I had to diverge my gaze, and I tried as much as I can to ignore her but she insisted on standing in front of me and talk. I was about to lose my temper and just ask her to get out of my way, because she has no chance. I don’t even know how mom thinks Reem is the one I like.
“Yeah?” mom asks.
“Of course not,” I reply quickly. “She’s nothing like me, and nothing like the girl I like.”
“Then who’s she?”
“Do you remember that teacher whose father invited Mariam and I over for dinner?”
“Leen?” Aya gasps. “Wow,” she says. “You’re unexpected.”
“Didn’t you say she’s Palestinian?” mom asks.
“Yeah, and what’s the problem in that?” I ask.
“I hear Palestinians are a little difficult to deal with,” she says. “And maybe they’re different from us.”
Before I take my breath to answer, Aya gives out a lecture . . .
“Palestinians are not the least bit different from us, and they’re not hard to deal with. Every country has good people and bad people, like you can’t generalize an impression about all Egyptians. That’s in addition to that they’re Arabs and Muslims which means they have the same traditions and culture, and come on mom, Cairo is closer to Gaza than it is to Aswan for example!” I want to give Aya the biggest hug right now.
“She’s speaking perfectly right!” Mariam agrees.
“Yeah, mom,” Hend says. “We shouldn’t look at things that superficially.”
“I don’t understand you elders, what’s your problem with the other Arabs?” Aya huffs.
“The old wars and politics, daughter. Egypt has been through enough because of Arabs,” mom says. “But I do love Palestine of course, and I want it back, I wish to pray in Al-Aqsa before I die, and I’m counting on a generation like you. But elders need time to get those old thoughts and feelings out of their heads.”
“So, are you convinced that her being a Palestinian is not even a problem?” Mariam asks.
“Yes,” she smiles. “I hope they’re just good people,” she says, then corrects herself, “like I would also hope if they were Egyptians.”
“Now, give that mama the biggest kiss!”Aya runs and kisses mom followed by Mariam and Hend. I get off my seat and approach her too, “So do you agree?” I ask.
“If you really like her, then let’s go visit them,” she says kissing my forehead.
“I love you, mom!” I kiss her hand then hug her.
“So, Omar, what do you think?” Mariam asks.
“From what you two have been saying about them,” he starts, “I think they’re good people. I’m okay with it, if Adam wants her.”
“By the way mom,” Mariam laughs, “her family has been living in Egypt since 1948.”
“Oh my God!” mom laughs too.
Ahmed sighs, “You’re finally throwing yourself into hell like me.” He laughs at me.
“You wicked thing,” I narrow my eyes. “I know you don’t want to be there alone,” I laugh too.
“Anyway,” I say, “there’s a problem. Someone has proposed to her yesterday, and we still don’t know what happened.”
“Wait a minute,” Mariam says getting her phone out of her pocket. She types something and waits for less than a minute then says, “They didn’t agree.”
“Did you just text her?” Aya’s eyes widen.
“Yes,” Mariam answers coolly.
“You’re unbelievable!” I laugh. “But how would we know she won’t refuse me too?” I ask in disappointment.
“You can depend on me to make her think of you as Prince Charming,” Mariam laughs.
“I just want you to try to know if she’s ready and wouldn’t refuse me,” I say. “But don’t be too obvious, I need to talk to her father first and tell him we’re going, I think that’s more polite.”
“Okaaay,” she says.
“You would really like her when you meet her, mom,” I say.
“I like her if you like her,” she pats on my hand. “But she won’t take you from me,” she frowns.
“No one can!” I exclaim then laugh. “And it’s too soon to be worrying about that, lovely.”
“You’re a big mouth, Adam,” she teases me. “We’ll see what will happen when you marry her.” My heart skips a beat as I think this could really happen.
That night, after praying Al-Isha in the mosque with Omar, I return home and get to my bedroom. I stand in front of my bookshelf and keep looking for a book to read. There are six new books I’ve bought and haven’t read, one of them is called What It Means To Be Palestinian. When my eyes fall on the word Palestinian she comes to my mind. I take the book and sit on my desk and start reading. On page 100, I decide that I have to sleep. I put a bookmark and leave the book on the desk, I collect the clothes thrown on the bed and hang them in the closet, I finally get in bed and turn the lights off.
I wake up late the next day, because after I prayed Al-fajr I kept reading in the book again and couldn’t sleep until 8:00 in the morning. When I wake up it’s already Duhr time, I take a shower and change my pajamas, and put on dark blue jeans and a vertically stripped blue and white shirt. I get downstairs and find Omar waiting for me. “Let’s go, we’re already late.”
“Okay,” I say and we leave for Duhr prayer.
When we get back, I find Mariam dressed up. “Where are you going?” I ask.
“To the mall,” she says then smiles mischievously. “With Leen.”
“Wallahy?” I ask.
“Yup,” she says checking her phone. “I have to go now, bye!” she says running to the door.
I call Ahmed and decide we should hang out together as well. We haven’t had a boys’ time for a while. He picks up and we agree to meet at his place and play PlayStation. Just for the record, soccer is my forever-favorite game.
Aunt Dina, his mother, brings us biscuits and orange juice as we’re playing. We’re seated on the floor in his bedroom–the bed behind us, and the huge LCD screen (which we’re idiotically staring at) is in front of us. “This is not fair!” I scream when I lose the game.
“You’re just a loser,” he says taking a bite from the biscuit. Aunt Dina is standing by the door watching us, “I can’t believe I’ve been watching the same scene for ten years now,” she says. “You never grow up!”
“And you’ve always brought us snacks and juices and shouted when we get too loud because Jana (Ahmed’s younger sister) can’t study.”
She laughs, “You’ve always been naughty, but I really feel lonely when you’re not here, Adam. We’ve been missing you since you became a pilot.”
“Seems like all the elders are hating my job,” I chortle.
“Laila has the right to worry about her son and hate that job!” she exclaims.
“You always take each other’s sides,” Ahmed snorts. “Stop being so harsh on the boy, his job is cool.”
“You’re crazy, both of you,” she says getting out and closing the door behind her.
“You know what?” I laugh.
“What?” Ahmed replies.
“I miss when she used to shout at us,” I say. “Let’s make some noise so she does it again.”
“For the sake of old times?” he smiles devilishly.
“For the sake of old times.”
We keep screaming and shouting when someone loses a match and making unbearable noises. But this time Jana is the one who comes in and shouts at us, “Will you both keep quiet?” she says angrily. “I have a quiz tomorrow!” she gets out and slams the door shut.
“Oh my God,” I laugh. “Things change.”
“Yeah she’s grown up now, she’s sixteen.”
“That’s crazy!” I say in disbelief. “Time flies by. Remember when we used to hide her toys and she used to tell Aunt Dina and she used to beat both of us?”
He laughs so hard, “Yeah, we were horrible.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t wish a son like me.”
Two hours later, I get downstairs, ready to leave, I meet Ahmed father, Uncle Hamza and he hugs me and pats on my back. “Welcome back, son,” he says. “How was your trip?”
“It was great, Alhamdulillah,” I reply. “I still wish we can all travel together one day.”
“Yeah, you and Ahmed have been planning that since you were kids,” he smiles remembering the old times.
“Inshallah it’ll happen.”
“Inshallah, son.”
I get home at 8:00 and find Mariam is back. “I want to talk to you,” I tell her.
“Okay,” she shrugs and follows me.
We get into my room and close the door, “So tell me what happened,” I say.
“She doesn’t have a problem with marriage itself,” she says. “She just didn’t like the guy.”
“Aha,” I say. “So do you feel she would accept me?”
“I think we should give it a try,” she nods.
“Okay tell me about her,” I say feeling my temperature rising a bit.
“Leen,” she starts then straightens her back and acts like a news reporter. “Twenty-two years old. Born on the seventh of April. 170 cm in height. Slim. Loves reading too much–”
“A reading freak,” I correct her, and she laughs.
“Exactly.” She continues, “Fond of Korean dramas and of an actor called Gong Yoo. Seems like you’ve got a competitor,” she laughs. I throw a pillow at her, “Go on.”
“Originally form Jenin, Palestine.”
“I know most of that!” I exclaim. “Can you tell me anything new?”
“She studied English Literature at Cairo University,” she says.
“And she’s a teacher,” I say rolling my eyes. “New information, Mariam. New information.”
“She loves tall guys and she wants to travel to Korea one day,” she pauses for a second, and my eyes shine at ‘she loves tall guys’, I win here. 195 cm is tall enough, eh? “And to Palestine, and to France, and Japan, and England, and…”
“If I marry her, I’ll take her wherever she wishes,” I say. “No go on.”
“I’m tired Adam, I want to sleep,” she whines.
“It’s still 9:00, Mariam!”
“Yeah, but I have to pray Al-Isha and do the dishes and get an outfit ready for tomorrow then watch the Korean drama Leen is watching, it seems exciting.”
“Where are you going tomorrow?” I ask.
“I forgot you weren’t home when I told them!” she gasps then claps her hands as she says, “Leen’s father has talked to that friend of his he told us about and I have a job interview tomorrow!”
“Wow, Mashallah!” I cheer. “Congratulations!” I hug her.
“Isn’t it just awesome?” she squeals.
“It is!”
I walk into the living room later and find Mariam watching TV alone, “What are you watching?”
“Didn’t I already tell you I’m gonna watch the Korean drama Leen watches?”
“Yeah, right,” I say and head out of the room when something stops me. I want to see that Gong Yoo Leen’s so crazy about.
I sit down on an armchair and Mariam shoots me a weird look, “Are you really going to watch a drama?” she asks in surprise. “You either watch cartoons or soccer games,” she laughs.
“I wanna watch a Korean drama right now,” I stick my tongue out at her.
“Is that him?” I point at a guy who I believe could be Gong Yoo.
“Yeah,” she replies. “He really is handsome,” she squeals and I roll my eyes. “Look Adam, he’s really tall!”
“Koreans aren’t that tall, Mariam. It’s just that the others are really short,” I roll my eyes again. She types something on her phone then shows me, “Look he’s 184 cm! He’s tall,” she says.
“I’m a lot taller,” I say.
“You’re like a kid, Adam. It’s not a who’s-taller competition,” she says. “Or you’re jealous . . .” she says slowly. “ADAM IS JEALOUS OF A KOREAN ACTOR!” she screams and laughs too hard.
“No, I’m not, and that’s not funny.”
“It’s so funny,” she laughs again.
“The commercials are over,” I say. “Now let us watch.”
The next day, Mariam and I drive Malek to school, but I don’t see Leen. And to be honest, I’m quite disappointed. I decide to call her father today and ask if we can visit them.
That afternoon, I keep walking in the house back and forth, holding the phone in my hand and drowning in sweat. I’ll call him now. I’ll do it. I keep telling myself but my fingers won’t move. Suddenly Aya who’s been watching me all along, comes and taps on his number and the phone is practically ‘calling mobile…’ right now. “What–” I say under my breath then remember he could answer at any moment.
“Asslamu’alikom,” Leen’s father picks up.
“Wa’likomAsslam, sir,” I try to stay as stable as I can. “It’s me, Adam.”
“I’ve already saved your number, Adam,” I can feel him smile on the other end.
“Oh, sir,” I don’t know what to say. “I was calling to tell you that there was something I need to speak with you about, if you agree, sir.”
“Of course, son!” he says. “What is it?”
“I don’t think it’s an issue to be discussed on the phone, so if you would allow us, sir, my family and I would like to pay you a visit.”
“You’re welcome at any time, Adam!” he says gladly. “We’d be waiting for you. When would you be able to come?”
“Is tomorrow suitable for you, sir?”
“Perfect,” he replies. “I’ll be waiting for you at 7:00 p.m. is that’s okay for you.”
“It is,” I say. “And thank you.”
“You’re welcome, son.”
“I also wanted to thank you for finding Mariam a job in such a huge company!”
“It was nothing, Adam. I wish you all the best, like I wish my own kids.”
“I appreciate that, Mr. Aly,” I say. “See you tomorrow inshallah.”
“Inshallah. Asslamu’alikom.”
“Wa’likomAsslam,” I say hanging up.
Tomorrow, I’ll be proposing to a girl for the very first time. Tomorrow the only girl I’ve really liked might really be mine.
~~~
People who've been waiting, He's finally about to propose! ;)
Leave some of your beautiful votes and comments :D <3 And tell me what you think of this chapter.
Nouran.