Stated Love

Chapter 6

I walk into the house, and see Mama and Walaa in the kitchen. "Salamualaikum, what are you guys cooking?" I peek into the pot. "Waalaikumalsalam, we're having bamya (Sudanese okra stew)." Just then, Bashir walks in and scrunches up his face. "What do you mean, bamya's delicious," I tell him, defending the bamya. I turn back to Mama, remembering the car incident this morning. But then if I tell her about the car instead of getting the caring reaction I want, she'll get mad at me for missing my bus. I hold my tongue and turn to the stair case. "I'm going upstairs to catch up on some homework." After I'm up the stairs, Mama yells to me. "Get down soon, because we're going to Khalto Rasha's house for dinner!" I groan but then remember that I'll get to see Sahar. After completing some work, it's time to leave. I change out of my PJs into a pair of cargo pants, and brown hijab to match my tanned H&M hole-knit sweater (with a shirt under, of course). "Ok, I'm ready." I trot down the stairs. Baba's come back from work. He comes over and gives me a giant hug. "Salam, how was your day?" I ask. He nods. "Not bad, actually, not bad. Go help Mama carry the food." I walk into the kitchen, and her and Walaa made more than just a pot of bamya. The aroma of the salads, stews, rice, and meat fill the room. "Wow, you guys cooked a whole feast, Mashallah." Mama laughs. "I just wanted to be generous." We walk out the door with pots and plates in our hands. As I'm walking up the driveway, I see the familiar 'Black Mercedes Benz with purple streaks all over and lights around the wheels'. I do a double take and run back to the beginning of the driveway, just to make sure it's the exact car. Now I wish I did file a report. But even if the guy did belong to this household, it wouldn't be any of Khalto Rasha's daughters or Sammy, the little one. Then it would have to be Salman. "Alaa, what are you doing, get over here!" Walaa hisses in a hushed tone. I stick my tongue at her and walk up to the front door.

"Come in, come in!" Khalto Rasha tells Mama. "How are you, good Inshallah?" She speaks with her in Arabic because apparently she's lost her faith in us 'American' youth. She snaps at me and Walaa. "You, you going play with Sahar," She turns to Walaa now. "And you, you playing with Sabrine." Sahar and Sabrine walk down the staircase. Just then, Bashir is goo-goo eyed over Sabrine. Sahar smiles at me and takes me up to her room. "I still can't get the idea out of my head that we hit up downtown like that. I never get to have that much fun, I'm always so busy!" She flops down on her bed, staring at the ceiling. "I know right, it was so much fun." Just then, there's a knock on the door. Sahar quickly glances at me, but sees that I'm still in my Hijab, so she lets the person in. "Come in." A tall, dark, curly haired guy walks in. He looks at me in surprise, and I eye him up and down in disgust. "Salman, this is, um, Alaa," She pauses awkwardly and looks from me to him. "Do you two, er, know each other?" I turn away from him and face Sahar. "Yes, actually, he almost ran me over this morning on my way to school and had the audacity to turn back, splash me, and flip me off." Salman gasps. "You were walking in the middle of the road and you harassed me." I look at him, my eyes bulging out of my forehead. "I did no such thing, I called you a humaar, because you were and still are acting like one!" Sahar stands in between us because I'm well and ready to start throwing fists at him. "Get glasses, then." "Get some driving lessons." "Four eyes." "Humaar." "Ok, guys, both of you, stop!" Sahar is yelling at the top of her lungs to silence us. She turns and glares at her brother. "What do you want?" He sighs deeply. "Mama wanted me to let you know that dinner's ready." She smiles and composes herself. "Ok, you told us, now could you please get out?" Salman shrugs and walks out of the room, slamming the door behind him. "Ugh, he could be such an idiot sometimes!" She complains.

More like all the time.

"Please, ignore him, and I'm sorry you had to go through that." I shrug my shoulders. "I don't care. I'm sorry for saying this because I know he's your brother and all, but don't apologize for being related to that ape." Sahar laughs. "Trust me, I don't even know how I'm genetically related to this family." At the dinner table, Salman and I catch each others glances and when we do, we both look away instantly. "Here, having more bamya?" Khalto Rasha shoves the pot of stew in my face and drenches my rice with warm okra stew. "Shukran," I say, smiling weakly. Shukran means 'Thank you' in Arabic. When it's time to leave for home, we say our goodbyes. I'm up in my room when I hear a knock on my door. I put my book down. "Come in." It's Walaa. I smile and she smirks back. "What?" She sits down on my bed. "I sensed some tension between you and Salman," She pauses and pounces closer to me. "Do you like him?!" I inhale sharply. "Ew, gross, no, I do not!" Walaa starts tickling me. "Stop it, or I'm going to tell Mama, I'm dead serious right now, get out." She simply smirks and shuts the door as she leaves. I through a pillow at the door. That's disgusting.