Monday, 5:00am
Harun turns off the alarm and groans into his pillow. Today is going to be a busy day bordering on crazy because he'll be seeing Dr. Brown's patients' as well. The middle aged man is out in Hawaii having the time of his life. Harun wants a vacation more than anything. Ever since he graduated medical school, he felt like he deserved one.
Then again, he chose this field all on his own so he can't exactly blame anyone for the pressure and constant exams- except himself. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and clears his throat. While brushing his teeth, he mentally ticks off the things he needs to do; text Ramla and Hafsah, tell Rashid he can never take my car out again because he can't seem to drive in a straight line but he might just laugh it off and take it anyway, meet with the director at the hospital and finally get a coffee on the way... Harun blinks rapidly at the thought of coffee and the incident yesterday.
He'd be lying if he said it didn't bother him. Jamila, meaning beauty. Just like her name. He shakes his head, I'm acting like a teenager. The young woman looked the epitome of gentleness and composure beside her funny and erratic mother. Maybe that's why he's drawn to her. She dealt with her mother as calmly as she could despite her bluntness. Harun chuckles at the memory of her flushed and embarrassed face.
He steps into the shower, the water pouring over his sinewy torso. He spends a significant amount of time taking care of his body considering he's stuck in a room for about ten to twelve hours a day. It takes a toll on him but it's also more than that. At the age of 27 he's unmarried and just like any other man, the temptation is all too real so working out serves as a healthy distraction to keep his energy and blood flow relatively stable.
His mother-Ruqaiya- never fails to remind him about how he's not getting any younger and that it's time for him to settle down. "I only want what's best for you. Your sisters are married and have children. Rashid is married and will be moving into his new apartment soon. Only you're left."
"Mom if I leave, who will take care of you?" He'd joke.
"Harun stop with that. You always give me that excuse."
"Because it's true. I don't want to leave you here by yourself." He gestured to the immaculate house they live in. The big house was bought by his father-Omar- who passed away three years ago. Harun had graduated from medical school the night before his father's fatal car accident. It was a hit and run.
The PTSD slammed him like a truckload of trees. The pain was indescribable.
Harun handled the loss poorly. He was constantly angry and temperamental. The smallest things would set him off like; the very mention of his father's name, viewing old photo albums and even conversing in Arabic. Harun only did that with his father and when he passed away, the habit went with him. He'd yell and pick fights with Rashid, accusing him of not caring enough about their father. One night his mother finally broke down in front of him and begged him to see a therapist.
This was a wakeup call.
He swallowed hard at the sight of her so hurt and disappointed. Harun realized how selfish he'd been. He wasn't the only one who lost someone so beloved to him. He lost a father but his mother lost her husband. Her life partner. The love of her life as she once said.
From that day onwards he vowed to never hurt her like that again. He wanted to make it up to her by taking care of her as much as possible. He even saw a therapist and attended exactly 38 sessions to get his rage under control and to deal with the feelings of denial. It was after he recovered that he got a permanent job at the hospital and was able to offer his services with a smile.
Literally.
Through this loss however, he found healing in religion. He wasn't the most practicing person; he'd sleep through his prayers and sometimes neglect them altogether but losing his father forced him to re-evaluate his life choices. He took it upon himself to interact with his faith on a deeper level. Now looking back on the time that's passed, Harun knows everything happened for a reason.
"Allah always does good. Don't ever forget that. Everything He plans, is good for you." The Imam advised him with a pat on his shoulder.
Harun throws on a white shirt and tucks it into black slacks. He closes his laptop, puts away the heavy textbooks, slips on his watch and sprays his favorite Hugo Boss perfume. A man needs to smell good. Looking good is a given but God people need to take care of their personal odor.
After swiping his car keys, black jacket and brief case, he bolts out the door. Rashid is already downstairs, typing away on his phone. Harun rolls his eyes, he's probably waking Hanna up for Fajr. Couple goals, am I right?
"Assalamu Alaykum little bro." He grins.
"Wa Alaykum Salam. I'm surprised you even noticed me."
"Aw don't be like that. Wifey needed me."
"I don't even want to know Rashid." Harun makes a face and walks out the front door. Rashid laughs and slides into the passenger seat. "You do know you're never taking my car again, right?"
"It was one scratch. Stop being such a baby."
"Are you kidding? This a brand new car and polishing it costs a lot of money." The Audi was expensive but oh so worth it. Still, I don't want to wreck it. If Rashid would just sell his beat up Mustang, he wouldn't need to borrow my car to begin with!
Harun didn't understand why his brother couldn't save enough money for a nice car. Every time he brought up the topic, Rashid would mention furnishing his new apartment or saving up for a fancy honeymoon with Hanna or whatever else that occupied his mind.
"Alright I'm sorry."
"You should be." Harun glances at him and takes note of the dark circles under his eyes. "Are you okay though? Overall I mean."
"Alhamdulillah yes, just tired you know. We've been approached with a big case, a woman is suing a company for their cosmetic product or something. Apparently Hanna uses the same brand too but she said it was fine." Rashid leans against the seat and closes his eyes, as if the very memory of that conversation gives him a headache.
"Sounds interesting."
"No it really isn't. You don't want to hear about the differences between makeup brands and lame terms like baking and contouring, believe me." Harun laughs and shakes his head.
"I was talking about the case." He says dryly. Rashid chose to be a lawyer just like his father. Although Harun would never admit it, he secretly admires his brother for following in his career path.
"Oh sorry. Hanna droned on about it and I had to listen."
"She's your wife bro, you don't have a choice."
"Tell me about it." They fall into a comfortable silence. As Harun parks the car and is about to get out Rashid stops him.
"What?" Harun asks with a raised eyebrow. His brother hesitates before speaking.
"You know I want you to be happy right?"
"Yeah... Why?"
"It's just that... I don't want you to end up alone." He pauses. "Okay that came out wrong. What I'm trying to say is that I want you to find someone too. I mean, I want you to get married too."
"Bro you don't need to have the talk with me."
"Harun, I want you to be as happy as I am if not more. I want you to feel what I feel. It's amazing, I swear."
"You mean you're whipped." Harun cracks a smile.
"Yes but more importantly, I feel whole." He smiles but keeps a serious tone. "After a long day at work the one thing I look forward to is seeing her again."
"I get it." Harun nods slowly. It's nothing he hasn't already heard but coming from Rashid the effect is a lot different because his brother never interferes in his life unless it's absolutely necessary.
"I don't want to sound like mom-"
"You don't."
"Good." Rashid scratches his beard. "You'd tell me right?"
"Tell you what?"
"If you had anyone in mind or something like that?" Harun's heart beats unsteadily at the thought of telling his brother about Jamila. I mean nothing's happened so far. I just saw her and spoke to her but mostly to her mom and... Yeah I shouldn't say anything yet. I'd get his hopes up or worse- mom's. He clears his throat and nods slowly.
"Yes, I'd tell you."
—
Harun puts down the stethoscope and rises from his seat. It's been a hectic morning; the hospital was overflowing with patients, apparently the flu's going around again. The symptoms are that of a common cold but antibiotics aren't working as he hoped. He's had to up the dosage of medication for one of the college students who walked in red nosed and teary. He sighs at the memory.
That was me, once upon a time.
Now it's lunch time and he can't wait to get out for his break. On the way out, Jessica stops him and offers a sweet smile.
"Are you done for the day, Doctor?" Harun runs a hand through his hair. Jessica is one of the nurses who won't stop flirting with him no matter how many times he tells her he's not interested.
"No Jessica. I'm on my lunch break." As I'm sure you're already aware of because you check my schedule on the shared Google Sheet more than any other doctor here.
"You can call me Jess."
"I'd rather not."
"Right, well can I join you for lunch?"
"I want to be alone." Her face falls but she recovers and pastes on a smile acting as if he didn't just blow her off. Harun leaves before she can say anything else. He makes it to the staff room, pulls off his white coat and slumps into the big leather chair. After a few minutes of gathering his thoughts, Harun takes his chicken sandwich and bites into it hungrily.
Brrrring!
"Hello?" Harun answers his cell phone, frowning at the unknown number.
"Assalamu Alaykum Harun?" Harun drops his sandwich and sits up straighter than ever. He swallows the food hastily. Okay be cool, be cool. Don't sound desperate.
"Wa Alaykum Salam Ma'am! How are you?" He cringes at the sound of his voice. Way to go. You don't sound desperate at all.
"I'm good." She gushes. "I'm actually calling because my husband's knee has gotten worse." She goes on to explain the pain he feels and Harun listens attentively, commenting only when necessary. They finally decide to meet so that he can see what the issue is first hand.
"Are you free tomorrow?"
"Yes tomorrow's perfect." He says and smiles. Her thick accent reminds him of his own mother.
"What time can you come over?" Harun is caught off guard at the question. I don't do house visits. I'm not authorized to or wait, am I? I need to speak to the director.
"Pardon me but did you say come over?"
"Yes, yes Ibni! My husband can't walk properly. Can you come home?" Harun can feel the excitement bubbling from within at the thought of seeing Jamila again. But is this a good idea?Harun get yourself together and think!
"Sure. I'll be there."
"Alhamdulillah, Allah Yerhamuk!" (God have mercy on you). Harun saves the remainder of his sandwich and smiles to himself. Did this just happen? Did I just agree to see her father? Holy...
He convinces himself that everything will be fine. He wipes his sweaty palms on his trousers and rids all the negative thoughts from his mind. I'm fine. I've got this under control.
—
Are you sure about that Harun?