Hijabi Style: The Surprisingly Average Life Of A Teenage Muslim Girl

Of The Third Degree

There are such days meant to change everything in life- as you know it- for the better. I'd always imagined my engagement day to be one of those life-altering events, a day where I would become free to love. But I had to keep reminding myself that today was not my engagement. Today would become a sham of the third degree.

I feel Ummi touch my beaded cobalt hijab. I look up at her and smile. "Masha Allah. My beautiful, beautiful girl," she says, her eyes filled with tears. "Look how beautiful you are."

I glance at my mother's reflection in the mirror before me. My eyes slowly inch over to my own reflection. I see my icy blue eyes lined in black kohl. A beautiful hijab and abaya strung with silver beads. And jewelry of every kind- bracelets, necklaces, and rings. Yes, I suppose I did look beautiful. But what a shame that it was all for the rejection of an engagement proposal.

"You know, she's got to look bangin' for Mr. Handsome." Deena quips, disrupting the silence.

"Ya Allah, what will I do with you two?" Ummi laughs.

"Love us!" Deena yells.

Ummi shakes her head in amusement. "You girls stay here. Your Abba will be wanting to see you." Ummi says to Deena and I.

"Are you nervous?" Deena blurts out once Ummi leaves, probably to re-clean the already pristine parlor.

"At this point, I will be fine as long as I don't call him your special nickname to his face!" I smile.

"So I take it you are nervous." She reads through my joke.

"Incredibly. I know what's going to happen, but I can't help worrying about it." I respond, walking over to sit beside her on my bed.

"What do you think Abba will do when Hamzah says no?"

"I honestly don't know," I whisper. "But it will be okay. And Abba won't be too upset, insha Allah."

"Well," Deena starts, grinning. "You wouldn't want to get Abba upset. 'Cause when he gets upset-"

"His nostrils flare up!" I giggle.

"Like two beach ball sized holes!" she adds, laughing. It was the funniest thing. Ummi had once joked that Abba's nostrils were the window to his soul when he was angry; they got so big.

Our giggles eventually subside and Deena looks over at me. "You know, pretty soon we won't be able to do this. You'll be married and with your husband."

"And so will you! But insha Allah, we will always be able to do this. I will always be your sister, and I'll always be there when you need a hug or a good laugh. Marriage won't change that."

A small knock comes at the door just as Deena leans her head against my shoulder. We both look up to see Abba.

"Wow, look at you two. You've grown up so fast!" he exclaims, patting our heads. He kneels down to face me. I take his hand and smile back at him. Abba asks me with concern, "Are you ready?"

I look into his eyes and nod. "Then, it's time," he says, taking my hands as I rise from my bed. Deena follows us downstairs.

As we get closer to the parlor, I catch a whiff of Hamzah's aromatic cologne. In the parlor, Hamzah is seated in a chair off to the side of the room. He is dressed is a gold threaded thawb, or Islamic garment. His curly hair has recently been trimmed and shaped up perfectly. Hamzah has never been more attractive to me than he is at this moment. I chide myself for feeling this way. This was a doomed proposal. He was going to reject me, I remind myself.

I sit in the chair beside Hamzah, fully aware that I've never been this physically close to him before.

Deena takes Sabi away, probably into her room, while Abba and Ummi join Mr. Hamzah on the sofa.

"Alhamdullilah, look how wonderful they look together." Ummi admires.

"Jalal, I have dreamed about this day since we were young boys. We shall finally become a family!" Abba says to Mr. Hamzah.

"Now wait a minute, Malik. They have not accepted the engagement yet. We should not rush them." Ummi warns Abba.

"Yes, Sooraya is right, akhi. We should let them discuss the matter." Mr. Hamzah agrees.

"Of course. Yasmeen," Abba calls. "You may take Hamzah to your room."

We end up in my bedroom, in a way so similar to the day we'd first met. How things had changed. How much there was now to risk over this. I sit on my bed, in a corner farthest away from Hamzah.

"Yasmeen, you look beautiful. You are so beautiful."

"Thanks." I respond curtly, averting his gaze by keeping my eyes focused on my hands in my lap.

Hamzah sighs loudly and begins to pace back and forth. "I'm so sorry I have to do this. I'm sorry I have to hurt you. It's just... I love her." The pain in his voice reaches my heart and I look up at him.

"I understand." And I did. He was in love. If I'd been in his place, I'd have been just as helpless and enamored. I had no right to blame him for that. "Well, we should go and tell them what we've decided." I continue, smiling just a teeny bit.

We return to our chairs where our parents will ask whether or not we accept the engagement proposal.

Abba faces me and pats my hand. "Yasmeen Hasina Abdul, do you accept an engagement to Hakeem Saad Hamzah?" Abba questions in Arabic.

"Na'am." I answer, confirming my approval of the engagement. I wait to hear Hamzah reply "La'a", or no, when Mr. Hamzah asks for his approval.

"Hamzah, I am so proud of you," Mr. Hamzah says, rather emotionally. "I know that things have been very hard after your mother passed away. Even moving here was difficult. But Alhamdullilah, I am very proud of the way you've persevered and progressed."

Mr. Hamzah hugs his son tightly, both tearing up a little. "Hakeem Saad Hamzah, do you accept the engagement to Yasmeen Hasina Abdul?" Mr. Hamzah asks.

There is a brief silence that seems to last for centuries. Mr. Hamzah repeats his question as I glance over at Hamzah from the corner of my eye. The question is repeated once more until finally, Hamzah answers. "Na'am."

So many things simultaneously occur in that moment. Mr. Hamzah and Abba roar with excitement and hug. My head angrily snaps towards a bewildered Hamzah. Then, at the entrance of the parlor, I spot a figure watching us. Looking again, I see that it is Kennedy, wearing an expression I've never seen before.

His green eyes flash, harsh and narrowed. He looks almost... angry? Why would Kennedy be angry? He turns to bolt up the stairs before I can stop him.

"Ah! We must plan at once!" Mr. Hamzah says. The adults proceed to another room to talk.

I turn towards Hamzah, feeling confused, angry, and excited. Confused because he'd answered yes to the engagement. Angry because he'd answered yes. And excited, because- well, he'd answered yes.

"What the hell did I just do?" Hamzah murmurs. His words come as a slap to the face, and my excitement is gone in seconds, leaving me with an anger fueled by my confusion.

"Stop playing games with me!" I shout while pushing him away. "Look at how they're celebrating! It isn't even real! None of this is real!"

"Yasmeen, calm down," Hamzah stands abruptly. "Take a deep breath."

"Listen, and you listen good. You had better either tell your father you don't agree to this engagement, or tell your girlfriend- remember her?- that you got engaged to me, her best friend." I snarl at him. If I didn't stand up for myself now, I'd be hopeless. I had to fight for the truth- the reality that my first engagement was a failure.

"I'll tell him." Hamzah says, walking away.

"You'd better." I mutter, his absence leaving my heart in an enraged and tangled mess.