Her Red Scarf [Muslim love story]

Chapter 11

           Sitting at the round table, with father's blended family to the right, and mom's to the left is one of the most nerve-wracking things I've done in a long time.

I've been avoiding interactions like these since I knew of their existence two years ago, and I've been avoiding them since I moved back. But now that Rafiq insisted on coming, I must be there.

My family was never early to things, but today, I get a message from mom two minutes before out meeting time asking me where I was. I won't lie—I felt a pinch in my heart. I wanted to be this family. But now that they're broken up, everything seems possible for them. How come? Why not for me and my siblings? We needed them to be this way.

Plates after plates are placed on the table. I see my sister lightly tap my stepfather's arm after he says something funny, and I notice my mother fondly plate his food. And it's a lot to take in. And that's when it hits me. Surroundings by the siblings I grew up with, and the ones I just met, I feel severely out of place. People often talk about how after exchange years, home stops feeling like home. However, no one talks home that stops feeling like home after a divorce. About that intense revelatory feeling of not belonging, not anywhere, and not with anyone.

I notice my sister share a plate with my stepfather's child while I could barely recognize them outside. It makes me realize how much time has passed. And it hurts to see them all now, more functional than they ever were married.

I catch dad steal glances at mom and her new husband sometimes, and although he is over it, I know it must hurt. Didn't he deserve tender treatment from her, too? Why was he different?

These dinners to strengthen our family bonds were mother's ideas. Father didn't want to. But he gave in. To keep the peace. He's always done that. maybe that's what caused his downfall—the fact that he sacrificed so much, till he had nothing left. Not even respect.

This is my first time at dinner with them, and because I don't want to make it awkward, I channel the carefree self I was yesterday with Rafiq. Rafiq seemed to love it, and I know they must too. And while I would never admit, it felt good to be anyone but myself for a second.

Smiling, serving food, and joking with the small kids, I try my best to get over my personal feelings about the situation. Maybe it's time I let go. Maybe it's time to forgive my parents for breaking up.

Growing up, all I wanted was peace. To come home to a mother who had cooked dinner and couldn't wait to see me after school. A mother who loved being my mom, who listened to my stories, and never did things to intentionally disrespect me. and a dad who was there whenever I needed him. and while I never got it, maybe I can help this family keep the peace.

My mother laughs too loudly at one of her husband's directions, which directs all our eyes to her. And while she is explaining why she laughed so loud, I finally notice that the outfit she is wearing is a style she hated before. no matter how much dad convinced her that it looked amazing on her.

Huh. Another point for mr.- could-do-all-the-things-my-dad-couldn't.

I sigh. It seems like a minor detail, but mother sometimes went as far as purposefully doing things that angered my father. But she is calmer, now. She is willing to change to keep the peace.

Maybe I never changed enough to keep the peace in my marriage.

Rafiq was on my right for the entirety of dinner. I notice him steal some glances at me, but because we're not on the best terms, I don't spare him any attention. He surprises me when he grabs my hand, and excuses us, telling them I need to help him with something. I notice my dad's puzzled stare, telling me I owe me an explanation later. I nod.

Back in his car, Rafiq breathes out. I question him with my eyes. He shrugs. "It was brutal out there. And it looked like you needed a quick escape."

"I didn't." Okay. Maybe I did.

He pulls his brown hair back. "I've never been stuck in something so tense before. but you... made every second more manageable. Well, almost till the end."

He raises an eyebrow knowingly at me, and I look away. The mood instantly switches.

"It doesn't seem that hard for you to be your old self. Well, at least when it's not around me."

He sighs and looks out the car. In front of us, a family of four is walking to their car. The mom is helping the toddler walk, while the dad is walking hand in hand with the son.

"I've... made a decision."

"Spill it, Rafiq." My voices come out unwavering, but the truth is that I am petrified of what he has to say. It's one thing for me to realize that we aren't compatible. It's another for him to agree. That would mean we really are incompatible. That I wasn't wrong. And part of me wants to be. Part of me wants him to realize that we are, after all, compatible. And that we can make it.

"I miss you, but I realize now it's unfair of me to put so much pressure on you. You were right. We are not compatible. You... are my favorite shoulder to cry on. But we haven't been for a long time. Part of maturing is realizing when it's time to let go."

It takes a moment for everything to sink in. the family is almost to their car. And as we watch them open the doors, and strap the kids in, my vision blurs, and my cheeks soak wet. My initial reaction is to feel embarrassed. Embarrassed for wanting someone who (finally?) realized they didn't want me. Then I feel pity. For myself. For criticizing my parents only to end up like them.

Tears stream down my face, and I hear him sniff through.

His voice comes raspy, and soft. Maybe because he's full-on sobbing too. "I want you to know though. There was nothing wrong with you, or us. And if I had to choose between making it work with you, or start anew, I would choose you for as long as I have the choice. If I could figure out how to fix this, I would. But I don't... know how."

"This is it. thank you for such an amazing time."

What do we do now? Hug? Shake hands. How do break up with a spouse amicably?

I must say something. As i struggle to find what to say, I decide to say the most honest sentence I could think of. I swallow, my tears making my words almost unintelligible. "I really wanted it to work." That makes me cry harder.

He doesn't touch me, and he doesn't answer. I don't think there is anything to say. But I realize that the more time we spend in the car, the harder it gets to leave.

I open the door, and right before I walk away from my past and what I thought would be my whole future, I smile and bow my head slightly. "I love you" I whisper.

I grew up feeling ignored and hurt in my family. Rafiq was my first real best friend, before he became so much more than that. He was my first shoulder to cry on, the first to understand me. I told him everything, and I truly felt like he had my back no matter what. The last three years were more beautiful than I ever thought they could be.

He gave me more joy than I ever could have asked for. I hope he knows that.

***

honestly this chapter is so sad. it made me really sad, so i hope you all enjoy! do you guys wish they made it work? 

Honestly, i just hate endings. like it makes me so sad. especially marriages. i just wish i could save all families.

what was your fave part of the chapter? and what do you think will happen next?