Eid was a bit lonely; Samira couldn't wake up early to bug her younger siblings while they slept quietly, nor could she tiptoe into the kitchen to sneak in homemade desserts while her mother cooked peacefully. It was hard to complain, however, because Eid was rather nice in London with Baneen Aunty and Jaami Uncle. The mosque was full of different people, with the stores alongside it selling her favorite sweets. The children running around with their new toys made her feel just a little more at home.
After getting 2 hours of sleep the night before after helping Baneen Aunty prepare morning's breakfast, Samira lay exhausted on a bed in Baneen Aunty's guest room, holding her phone high as she FaceTimed her friend, still in her salwar kameez. It was a Pakistani suit, white and red, with pearls embedded into the seams. Her makeup was light, her hair was straightened, and her eyes were drooping.
"How was last weekend? Did you do anything fun?" Samira heard Mahnoor's sweet voice through the phone.
Without Mahnoor, Samira could confidently say she'd be dead. Mahnoor had been in Samira's life since she was 16 and they'd grown quite close in the last 7 years. They were adults now; Mahnoor was a married woman. No matter how grown they were, Samira could never go long without talking to her.
"Well, I drank a few days ago," she answered disappointedly, looking at the tiny face on the screen.
"What!?"
"But it was an accident."
"Oh no." Mahnoor raised her perfectly threaded eyebrows, shocked. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. A friend helped me." Her eyes distended. "Holy shit, did I tell you?"
"What?"
"The boy on the train. He's one of Tasneem's friends. He helped me sober up."
"Wow, you found him." Her smile widened. "What's his name?"
"Harry."
"Sounds hot," Mahnoor teased.
Samira snorted. "He kind of is." She remembered his dorky awkwardness, smiling softly.
"Do you like him?"
It was common for Mahnoor to always ask that whenever Samira mentioned any guy, no matter who he was. Mahnoor already had Samira's wedding planned and the last thing left was finding a man.
—But this wasn't the man.
Samira shook her head confidently. "What do you think this is, a Bollywood movie? And he's white."
Mahnoor narrowed her eyes in annoyance. "Literally both of your exes are white, Mimi."
Samira shrugged, disregarding the known fact. "And now I want a brown husband. Your point?"
"Do you think you'll find someone yourself?"
"No. The men I attract are trash."
Mahnoor smirked. "That says something, right."
Samira's mouth fell agape. "I hate you."
"Okay, but, are you alright? Are you happy there?" Mahnoor rested her chin in her palm, looking at Samira endearingly.
"Of course, I am." Samira smiled at the thoughtfulness of her question.
"Good."
"You're such a mom."
Mahnoor laughed, her pearly teeth shining. "I know."
"When are you going to actually become one, though?" Samira taunted, just like Mahnoor had about Samira's marriage.
Mahnoor rolled her eyes. "Alright, bye."
"No! I was joking," Samira took back her remark immediately, though she secretly meant what she said. "Don't leave."
"I have to now."
"Why . . . " Samira whined.
"I have guests coming soon. I love you."
"Fine." Samira sighed. "I love you, too, Mano."
Samira hung up and headed downstairs. Before dinner, Noureen and her family came over as tradition to say Eid Mubarak and to spend time with them. Noureen's mother, Rifa, kept a large smile on her face as she talked to Samira adoringly. They conversed over tea while eating homemade watalappam and boxed baklava. Before they left, Rifa Aunty gave Eidi to Samira's cousins: Ana, Amir, and Alia. Rifa Aunty offered Eidi to Samira unexpectedly, and before she could refuse, Aunty snatched her wrist, stuffing a wad of pounds in it.
Gingerly, Samira took her place by Alia, the youngest cousin at one year old. As Samira played peek-a-boo with Alia, Amir, the middle son, who ran back and forth to show Samira all the toys he got for Eid. The kids loved her and gave her endless attention the same way she did for them, dispelling her homesickness.
From the kitchen, Baneen Aunty's voice drifted into her ears. "Samira, do you mind coming here?"
Mouthwatering, Samira entered the kitchen to be greeted by the warm aroma of spices. It'd been too long since she stuffed herself with authentic Sri Lankan food; her mother's cooking was definitely something she missed on this particular day.
Samira sat on the counter next to the stove as Baneen Aunty stirred a steaming pot of curry. "You're hungry, aren't you?" Baneen Aunty asked.
"Duh," Samira laughed. "I hope you made biryani."
"I did. It's almost finished," she responded, yawning. "Feeling a bit tired."
"Eid hangover is going to hit hard. And, ugh, I have to go back tomorrow morning," She rolled her eyes, complaining. "And it's raining too!"
"Why didn't you choose to study here, instead? All Liverpool has is those lamb-bananas."
"Oh! I actually saw those the other day," Samira said excitedly, causing Baneen Aunty to shake her head. "Do you want to see?"
Baneen Aunty sighed. "Alright."
Samira showed Aunty all the pictures she took: the ones with only the lamb-bananas, the ones of her jumping in the air, and the ones in which she was hugging the lamb-bananas with both arms.
"You're so cute, Masha-Allah. I remember when you were small," Baneen Aunty cooed, pinching Samira's dimpled cheeks.
"Well, I'm old now."
"I'm 37; imagine how that feels."
"I do." Samira hunched over, dramatically twisting her face in agony. "Oh, the back pain . . ."
"Shut up," Baneen Aunty scolded, slapping Samira's arm with the back of her hand. "Have you made any more friends?"
"A decent amount," Samira answered. She couldn't withhold a smile.
"You should make them food. Your parents always did that for their friends on Eid."
Nodding in agreement, Samira said, "That's not a bad idea. But—"
"Before you say you can't cook, you can. I remember that kothu roti you made. It was delicious," Baneen Aunty beamed.
A groan escaped Samira's lips. "But that's a lot of work."
Baneen Aunty raised her finger. "Quit being lazy. Your parents would encourage you to do the same."
Samira looked to the ceiling, thinking, they would. And she realized there'd come a day where she wouldn't be going back to their home because she'd have her own, so she might as well practice their traditions.
So, the following Thursday, Samira spent the whole day in the kitchen. Even though she always complained about doing the extensive help she provided her parents whenever they'd cook food for others, she wanted to know what it was like to be in their shoes, doing it by herself. It was rewarding, she was sure.
Samira cooked all her favorites, including her mother's signature pineapple curry. She even asked Tasneem to stop by and try the food, making sure everything tasted just right.
She made deliveries at each friend's doorstep, each one delighted by Samira's kindness. The only person that didn't answer her call was Harry; he was busy on Thursday.
After delivering food to Waseem, Samira and Tasneem walked back to the car, ready to go home. They felt a chill as the sun set and the wind brushed against their skin.
Then Samira remembered the very last parcel in the back.
She felt a tinge of sadness; Harry hadn't called her back. He had given her too many reasons to thank him, and this was how she planned to start. Too bad the timing sucked.
"You're a bit out of luck since it's Thursday," Tasneem said, clicking the button on her keys.
Exhausted, Samira plummeted into the passenger's seat, tugging at her seatbelt. "I know," she replied, a hint of disappointment in her voice.
Tasneem chuckled. "Do you like Harry or something?" She locked her eyes onto Samira's.
"Not at all," Samira shrugged nonchalantly. "He's been too nice, so I want to give back."
She considered justifying her actions by describing his thoughtfulness at the party, but she wasn't sure if Harry would appreciate it. Unless Tasneem was a friend Harry usually opened up to.
"How close are you with Harry?" Samira asked, running a finger through her hair.
"Hmm," Tasneem took a moment. "I would say if he needed someone during a hard time, he'd come to me. But he bottles a lot up, so he wouldn't come to rant; he'd come just to smile away whatever's bothering him." Tasneem laughed. "You know he's bottling something up when he's like, 'Oh, I'm so happy to see you,' or some shit."
Samira giggled at Tasneem's imitation of Harry. "Have you noticed he doesn't like it when people thank him?"
"That's why no one says it to him."
Before Samira could ask another question, her phone lit up with Harry's name.
"He sent a text," Samira exclaimed, more excited than she'd have liked to be.
Harry: Hey, you called?
"He's such a dummy," Tasneem chuckled, "he literally could've just called back."
Samira: I did
Samira: I know you're busy and I'm sorry
Samira: I made some food for everyone and I was wondering if you were home so I could bring it to you
Harry: Oh. You didn't have to do that.
Samira: Tasneem is yelling at you to say yes
Harry: Of course she is, haha.
Harry: I'm almost home. Are you close by?
Samira: Ya
Harry: Okay, I'll see you then :)
"He said he's almost home," informed Samira. "We can go."
"Let's see if we can get there before he does so I can make fun of him," Tasneem teased playfully.
"I like that challenge," Samira giggled.
In a few minutes, they arrived at his apartment. When Samira looked through the car window, she could see Harry walking toward the door, a laptop bag settled on his shoulder. He was wearing the same black shirt and slacks Samira saw him in when they were properly introduced, so he must have been working before he came.
A goofy smile rested on Harry's lips when he looked over, spotting them. Samira and Tasneem got out of the car; the wind slapped Samira's face yet again.
"We almost beat you here!" Tasneem exclaimed, laughing maniacally as she ran over.
Samira went to the backseat to grab the parceled food she cooked for him. She closed the door and turned around, to find Tasneem giving Harry a side hug.
"I'm so happy to see you two," Harry admitted wholeheartedly.
Samira's cheeks filled with air, failing to hold back her chortling; she remembered Tasneem's mockery of Harry in the car. Tasneem glared at Samira, narrowing her eyes as a way of telling her not to laugh.
Harry squinted his eyes at Tasneem as she remained quiet, then at Samira as she struggled to keep a straight face. Her laughter faded when she took another look at him; she found herself filled with concern and hoping that he was alright, or at least, that he would be.
"How was your day, Harry?" Tasneem asked kindly.
"It was good." He nodded softly as he began mumbling, looking to the ground, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Thanks for asking."
Samira couldn't quite figure out what he was doing but decided against prying it out of him. She instead changed the subject.
"We made you some food."
As Tasneem began to walk back to the car, she yelled, "It was just her!"
Samira rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. "Okay, but she did help out."
Harry's dimples cratered his cheeks as Samira placed the parcel in his hands. He stared at the ground before them, pretending as though it were so captivating. "Thank you," he said, showing a diffident smile. "This made my day."
At the sudden realization that Harry lied when he said his day was good, Samira found herself fighting the urge to confront him. She resisted taunting him like she usually would have, staring at her shoes in silence.
Harry quickly deciphered her actions. He took a step toward her, leaning in close. "I see what you're doing, Sam," he said.
Samira looked up with widened eyes. She remembered being called that before, but it was long ago.
"Who's Sam?" Samira teased, distracting from her memories.
His bottom lip pressed between his teeth, a failed attempt to hide his smile. "Can I call you that?"
"Why do you want to call me that?" Samira challenged playfully, crossing her arms over her chest.
Harry shrugged, retreating back into his timid self. "If you don't want me to, that's fine."
"No, no, you can, I was joking," Samira responded quickly.
"Okay," he said, and his lips pressed deep craters into his cheeks.
Dork.
He then asked, "Can I bother you on Saturday?"
Samira was taken aback by his sudden directness, as well as his imitation of Samira's words the night of Natalie's party.
She grinned giddily, endeared. "Of course!" She didn't have a second thought on his question.
He put his hand out for her to take, and she took it for the fourth time, shaking it firmly, feeling a warmth she hadn't realized she missed until now.
"I'll see you then," Samira said, excited for whatever it was he had in mind.
He beamed. "Thanks again. . . Sam."
Samira shook her head with a smile, unable to stop herself from responding. "You're welcome, Harry."