While the last carnival wrapped up in broad daylight, fearing a snowstorm, Sidra sat on the empty stage which was stripped of its recent adornments. A lazy wind blew the occasional confetti across the main area while Sidra stared intently trying to read a poster that was fluttering under a dissembled plinth.
The Fi..nal Grand Carnival. Be...there..to witness..no..
She made a mental note to get her eyes checked.
"Sidra? Sidra?" she heard Musa.
"Yeah?"
"Are you all right?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"I called you four times. Is something wrong?"
"Nope," she waved a dismissive hand at him. "I'm grand. Just thinking."
She realised that neither Josh nor Hafsa were to be seen. "Where are they?"
"Hafsa wanted food. So I sent Josh to keep her company."
"Why didn't you go?"
"May I sit?" he questioned instead of answering. Sidra nodded and moved further away. "Thank you."
She tossed him a coin from her pocket, "A penny for your thought."
He spun it distractedly between his fingers, combing his free hand through his hair. Sidra bit back a smile recognising his tell.
"I wanted to ask you something."
"Fire away," she glanced at the milling crowd then faced him.
Musa was silent, gathering his thoughts. "You don't have to use the perfect words, Musa. I will get your point." Then she took a risk. "Hafsa?"
His eyes widened for a second and he immediately relaxed; because it's The Sidra, Part-time shrink, full time Mom Friend who always guessed correct.
"Yeah. Her. If by any chance, I was to send her a proposal, do you think she would accept?"
"There's no by chance, Musa. You like her, don't you?"
"Yeah. It's been some time," he gave her a troubled glance.
"Just asking, why now? Don't answer if you think this inconsiderate."
"Not a chance. It's like this...I've known her long before the library and stuff. But this feeling is new. I can't find a reason. And...that day when I dropped the box, I think...I .... I think I saw something in her eyes that made me feel like I should move sooner." His gaze returned to the floor, "Do you think she has any feelings for me?"
Her face did not betray the intense thought process zipping through her brain. She didn't want to lie to him. Nor did she want to give him false hope because she was yet to address and converse with Hafsa. In the end, she decided to go as close to the truth as possible. "Not that I know of. But she's difficult to read that way."
"You should know, you're her best friend."
"Compliment taken, but last I checked we have different brains. Thoughts don't mix."
"Point noted," Musa said, then added more quietly, "So....what is your opinion?"
Sidra couldn't help but smile. This was an entirely different side Musa was displaying to her, and in his confidence, she felt honoured. "To be honest, I have no opinion. But if I must say anything, I'd say Isthikhara. Pray and wait for an answer. If you get a green light, go ahead." She didn't tell how amusing she found the idea, considering her one time questionable fantasy of Hafsa and Musa marrying eachother.
"Great help," he groaned.
"As always," she grinned back.
He stood up, dusting the seat of his pants, "Keep this between us. You're the second to know."
Sidra snapped her fingers, "So this is Kevin's big fat secret. How blind of me!"
"He's got resolve. Gotta give him that. Also he found out more by accident."
"How?" she asked perking up.
Musa raised an eyebrow, descending the pavilion, "Tell you and what? Embarrass myself all over again? I'll pass." He tossed her coin back to her but since she wasn't anticipating the move, it rolled rapidly down the side stairs and kept going further.
"That was my favourite coin," she muttered to Musa who was already taking big strides to retrieve the coin.
The coin rolled to a stop near sneakered feet and was picked up by long fingers.
"Yours?" asked Ayaan.
"Yes," Sidra got to her feet, Ayaan dropped the coin into her open palm.
"Did you guys have a good time?"
"Alhamdulillah. Yes. How's the accounting?" Musa asked.
"There's a reason I am choosing Law instead of Maths. And this is a great disrespect to my choice."
"Accounting is business," Sidra interjected.
"But addition is maths. And so is finding percentage."
"I rest my case."
"Well chosen. Say, where is Hafsa and my archenemy Mr Parks?"
"Archenemy?" Sidra wondered aloud.
"Ignore him. Josh insulted his hair."
"I can see why," she snorted.
Ayaan looked like he was about to give a very witty answer but exhaled instead, "One can be art. One cannot force another to admire art."
Sidra refused to react while Musa gagged at the overly dramatic response until the other two joined him in laughing at their dear friend. Eventually, Ayaan added something about eating all the cupcakes from Josh and Musa's refreshment packets and sending them home hungry. Hafsa, ever herself, diverted the topic to the abominable food stall on the opposite side.
The night was begining to get chilly, and Hafsa was visibly shivering. Sidra expected Musa to offer his jacket any moment now, but he remained entirely stoic, to the point that Sidra wondered if she had hallucinated the earlier conversation. Life is not a romance novel. Shut up.
Thankfully, the girls' pickup arrived sooner and they parted with the boys, who were hanging back to carpool home.
Sidra quietly tiptoed into Hamza's room, dropped a kiss on the sleeping boy's forehead and gently caressed his face. One thing she had let slip with all the work was quality time with her brother. Now that school was closed and the library was also preparing to close for the holidays, she looked forward to spending more time with him.
When she walked out after tucking him in bed properly, she met her father just leaving the living room.
"Hey, daughter."
"Hey, father."
He gave her a side hug. "You look tired, child. Aren't you having your meals?"
"Me? Tired? Thine glasses need washing. I can do a cartwheel if I wisheth."
"Then do it."
Sidra scrunched her nose. "Not now. Hamza is sleeping and Mama is having a a headache. So tomorrow morning."
"Really? How thoughtful? I have a wonderful daughter," he wiped away an imaginary tear.
"But I can still dance," she plunged straight into a terrible jig which consisted of chicken flapping, jumping and overenthusiastic marching, right up the stairs; completely ignoring the danger of falling down.
She heard her father laugh saying something about his genes and stuck her head over the banister, gave him a thumbs up, called out her salaams and continued on to her door.
She was feeling uncommonly happy so continued to dance while finding her bed clothes and tidying up the minimally furnished room.
Her single bed pushed against the wall adjacent to the door, was neatly made. A window on the far wall looked out over the backyard. And beyond the far treeline, she caught glimpses of the stream of tail lights and head lights moving up and down 5th Street.
Her study table was cleared of all clutter and occupied only by a leather bound journal, her laptop and a pen holder made out of a painted sardine tin; a craft project from back in her third grade days.
She neatly folded and disposed her clean laundry into the cupboard, dropped her hijab pins into the drawer and made slight adjustments to the bedspread before entering the washroom.
She changed, prayed and let herself into the balcony after that, to watch what the weather forecast predicted.
Above her, the sky was an inky canvas on which the artist had strewn artistically, a magnificent handful of sequins; big and small. A gentle breeze which traveled all the way from across the priaries soothed her warm skin, while fluffy white snow began its maiden descent of the year.
The sight of clear skies and dancing snowflakes filled her with a strange kind of tranquility and a subtle joy. Under the twinkling lights, she let her thoughts wander; emptying her mind to drink in the smell of freedom. Under her breath, she recited Ar Rahman until a blissful sleep overtook her, till Tahajjud woke the girl for a long, happy, unfiltered conversation with The Most Loving.
Winter would last quite some time and as always, Sidra would look forward to spring. The beautiful spring which brought new life and colour to the droll ground post winter. With a smile she acknowledged the begining of a new episode in two different worlds. One of a girl who was once again fighting to reach the summit and the other of two hearts embarking on a strange journey of love, through a path scattered with doubts.
Saddened by the thought, Sidra raised her hands to the heavens, asking that Allah make Halal easy for her friends and give them the best and help them accept His Qadr, even if it was not what they expected.