Thirteen
[Leen]
I get home on Sunday’s afternoon, as I went to my Korean class after school. One thing everyone can tell about me is that what I love is books, books, books, learning, and papers. I am fond of reading, writing and studying (stuff I’m not forced to study, of course).
Anyway, I don’t get the chance to reach my room upstairs when mom comes and tells me we’re having guests tomorrow. “Okay,” I reply casually. “Who?”
“Adam and his family,” she says.
Oh my God. Oh my God oh my God oh my God.
Wait, what?!
“Why?” I ask in bewilderment.
“He called your father and said there’s something he’d like to discuss with him,” she answers.
“Ah, maybe it’s about Mariam’s new job.”
“I don’t think so,” she smirks.
“Then what?” I hate when I feel idiotic sometimes.
“You need to start working on tomorrow’s dinner from now,” dad says passing by. Oh, no; that’s the thing I hate about visitors.
“I’ve already ordered the grocery I need,” mom replies.
“And sent me to buy the rest of what she needs,” Abed says, catching his breath and just coming from outside. “I’ll take these to the kitchen,” he says taking the dozen supermarket and bakery bags he’s carrying.
I go to my room and find Jenin on her desk doing something on her computer. I can’t forget what she’d told me, and I don’t want any further conflicts with her–I don’t have to hurt my pride again. I drop my bag on the bed and go to our bathroom in the room, take a quick shower and change into comfy pajamas. I stand in front of the mirror and comb my thick light brown hair, and decide it’s too long it needs a cut. I make a mental note to pass by the hairdresser tomorrow after school.
I get out, make myself a cup of coffee, and spread the Korean papers on my desk. It’s studying time! The Korean sentence structure is killingly difficult; it’s so different from English and Arabic and I feel like my head is all messed up, and I almost forget Arabic (my mother tongue). For God’s sake, why would a sentence be arranged like: I home-at ice cream eat? Why, huh?
I rub my head, and get the best messy hair ever. You know what? I still love that language no matter what. I spend two more hours studying then I feel my head buzzing and I’m dying for a break.
I text Abed (who’s on the same floor, in his room) and ask him to bring me a glass of water, please. And shockingly, he does!
“Are you ill?” I say taking the water glass and touching his forehead.
He jerks my hand away, “You are,” he sticks his tongue out at me. “Nice hairdo, by the way,” he laughs.
“Hey, don’t you dare make fun of my beautiful hair,” I say trying to fix it. “What do you want anyway?”
“Why would I want anything from you,” he says looking at the Korean sheets on my desk.
“You brought me a glass of water.”
“Ugh, you.”
“So?” I ask laughing at his expression.
“I need to talk to you,” he says glancing at Jenin behind me, but she doesn’t notice anyway.
“Okay,” I say following him to his room.
“You know Zeyad will be coming tomorrow,” he says.
“Yeah, I know that,” I reply. “Wait, how would Adam come when Zeyad is coming?”
“Zeyad will be here first, and I don’t think he’ll stay for long, anyway.”
“Okay,” I mumble. “So, what did you wanna say?”
“Do you like that Zeyad?” he asks.
“I don’t know, but I don’t trust him,” I say. “Talking to a girl behind her parents’ back and all.”
“Yeah, I feel the same,” he nods. “But she insists she doesn’t want anyone else, and we have to meet him and make things official if he’s good, you know, make it halal.”
“I know, but I’m afraid he’s not that good.”
“I’m afraid too,” he sighs. “I wanted you to talk to Jenin about it, but I know things aren’t smooth between both of you now.”
“Yeah, I don’t wanna talk to her. What she said was enough, I don’t have to hear more of it.”
“She was totally wrong,” he says. “You know what you do is the right thing, Inshallah, and you’ll be rewarded for it. So never mind what people say, even Jenin. I’m proud of you the way you are.”
I tear but I don’t let him notice, “I’m amazing you know,” I act arrogantly. “You should be proud of me.” He hits me on the head then leaves.
“You tall bastard,” I say touching where he hit me. And yes, my younger brother is now taller than all of us.
The next morning I go to school earlier than usual–not wanting to admit to myself that I was awaiting something–someone. I go to the cafeteria before the morning line starts and buy myself a pack of potato chips. When I’m done with it, I get up and throw it in the bin, and turning around I get a glimpse of someone. That someone. But Mariam is not with him today, I hope she’s fine.
He buys his usual cup of coffee and passes by me, I look downwards; knowing he’ll just walk. But surprisingly he stops and nods a quick ‘Asslamu’alikom’ to me. My heart does a quick flip then I’m back to my senses and gather the courage to reply with ‘Wa’likom Asslam’.
It is almost funny that tonight this guy will be our guest at home, and we don’t even look like we know one another.
Mom calls me at 3:00 p.m. when school’s over to ask me bring her some more grocery. I think we should open a supermarket next to the kitchen.
However, I go to the supermarket, buy a trolley-full grocery and ask one of the workers to help me take all those bags to the car parked outside. I get home an hour later, and mom orders me to change quickly and go help her in the kitchen. She also says that Zeyad is now in the study room with father.
While I’m in the kitchen with mom, we watch TV, and because it’s a sad movie and I’m actually chopping onions I keep crying like someone I love has died. Abed comes in and when he sees me he laughs his lungs out. “You look hilarious,” he laughs.
“Bring me a tissue,” I say sniffling.
“Okay,” he laughs even harder.
Zeyad leaves an hour later, and dad comes into the kitchen with a little frown on his face. “What happened?” mom asks, and Jenin jumps off her seat.
“Do you like him?” Jenin asks.
“I don’t know,” father replies. “I don’t like him much, but he hasn’t done anything wrong while he was here.”
“So what did you agree on?” mom asks.
“I’ll meet with him again,” he replies. “I need to make a clear impression about him.”
“Okay,” Jenin replies disappointedly.
“So,” mom says when dad leaves, “no weddings on the way.”
“Seriously, mom?” Abed sighs in dissatisfaction. “That’s all you care about?”
“No,” she replies childishly. “But I was just hoping.”
“Well, blame the one who ruined everything,” Jenin says exiting the kitchen. I sigh. Abed smiles at me from a distance and shuts his eyes then opens them like he’s telling me ‘It’s okay’.
At 7:10 that evening, the doorbell rings, and Abed opens up. “Asslamu’alikom,” he beams at the guests.
“Wa’likom Asslam,” Adam and the two other people with him reply. The woman must be his mother, and the older guy might be his old brother, I think peeking at them from the very-short corridor in front of the kitchen and which shows the reception and dining area hazily through a wall made of glass blocks.
They all walk to the salon behind mom and dad, and Abed follows after closing the door. Jenin doesn’t even bother to come down and sit with the guests, she said it’s enough she helped us with the food.
I now look from behind the wall, where the edge is separating my face into half and I’m watching with one eye. Adam and his brother scarily look like each other, despite minor differences. But Adam looks a lot younger and full of life. I remember when he was here last time he said his brother is only five years older, I wonder how he looks that much older. Not that old though.
His mother looks a little older than mom, and she seems nice. And I like her floral hijab.
“We’re actually here, sir,” Adam’s brother talks, “because we’ve heard from Adam and Mariam–especially Mariam–about your daughter Leen. We’ve heard she’s such a respectful girl, and a religious one as well. If you would allow us, sir, we want to ask for her hand to marry Adam, my younger brother.”
OOHH MY GODD!!
What did I just hear?!
Did they just ask for my hand?
Is Adam here because he wants to marry me?
Oh. My. God.
I gasp then cover my mouth with my hands hoping they didn’t hear me. This is surprising and scary and unexpected and unbelievable, and I’m just hyperventilating over here.
“Oh my God,” dad must have the same reaction as mine (unlike mom who looks like she’s known everything all along. . oh, women). “This is a surprise actually,” he laughs. “Umm, I really think Adam is a good guy, and I liked him before I even met him.”
“So, sir, what’s your answer?” Adam’s mother speaks.
“Like I just said, Mrs. Mostafa, I would love to have Adam as my son-in-law,” he smiles. “But I have to ask Leen first.”
“Of course you do!” she smiles, too. “But we would love to meet her now if that’s possible.” DAMMIT, I’M GOING TO PASS OUT.
“Yeah, sure,” mom says excitedly. She gets up and walks to the kitchen and I almost wet my pants–I mean skirt. “They want to see you,” she whispers to me–already knowing I heard everything. They can’t actually see us from where they are, but we can see them.
“I can’t, I can’t,” I whisper, waving both of my hands as a ‘no’.
“Don’t act like a kid, Leen, this is serious!” she says pulling me behind her. And when we’re in the view, she lets go of me and I walk like a totally normal mature grown-up human being–not giving any sign that I might just collapse right here.
“Mashallah!” his mother says as I approach, looking downwards. I notice Adam and his brother have lowered their gazes too.
N.B. I love guys who lower their gazes.
I sit down next to mom and she shoots me a don’t-disgrace-us-please look. “So, you’re Leen,” Adam’s mother says with a smile.
I nod, “Yes,” smiling.
“I’ve heard a lot about you and your manners Leen,” she says. “But Mariam hasn’t given your beauty enough credit, mashallah habibti, you’re gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” I nod again and feel myself starting to sweat.
“So,” dad speaks, “they’re here to ask for your hand to marry Adam, Leen. And I don’t have a problem if you say yes. So do you wanna give your answer now, or you wanna think about it?”
“I–” I start saying, but lose my voice so I clear my throat. “I wanna think about it,” I say shyly.
“Of course, my dear,” his mother says. “We’ll be waiting for you reply. But I want you to know that I’d love you to be my daughter-in-law.”
“My pleasure,” I reply.
“Okay, then,” the brother says getting up. “It’s time to go,” he says bowing at father’s direction.
“Not before you have dinner with us!” dad exclaims.
“Not this time too, sir,” Adam smiles.
“I insist,” mom speaks this time. “It’s made specially for you!”
We all sit around the dining table, having dinner. Father, Adam, Omar (like I heard them calling him), and Abed are on one side. And the rest of us on the other, which is mom, Adam’s mom and I. Jenin refused to come down when Abed asked her.
I couldn’t resist glancing at Adam who’s directly in front of me. He’s got really broad shoulders, I think to myself, then realize how haram what I’m just doing is and say ‘AstaghfurAllah’ in my head.
I keep thinking about their proposal the whole time we’re eating. Am I really ready for marriage? It’s scary just thinking about it. And would it be okay with Jenin that her younger sister gets married before her? Especially after what happened with Zeyad.
I’m afraid there’s a lot I’ll have to go through. But I don’t have personal or specific reasons to refuse him. Something about him screams ‘YES, YOU IDIOT!’ in my head, and I find myself wanting to go after that something.
~~~
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Happy Eid everyone! I hope you have a great vacation ;)
Nouran.