Under the Olive Tree

25. Khamsa Wa'Ishrun

It felt weird to see her family after such a long time. For the briefest of moments, Amani was almost nervous to be back in the presence of her father, mother, Habib, and Yazan. In the prime of his pubescent years, Yazan had grown nearly an entire foot and stood just an inch or two above Amani. But the nervousness fell away the moment her brother's spoke to her and fell back into their verbal wrestling dynamic.

"You got fat," Yazan looked Amani up and down.

"I lost ten pounds," she snorted.

"You should lose more."

"You're the one eating more to gain weight!" Habib exclaimed, standing in front of Amani defensively and pointing an accusatory finger at his brother. "The gym is making you fatter."

Yazan frowned at the little boy. "It's called bulking."

"A bulk in your head!" Habib stuck his tongue out. But he screamed and raced away from his older brother just as Yazan reached forward to knock his head, disappearing into the darkened kitchen in search of a sanctuary. Yazan followed him.

"Amani!" Her mother called and Amani was surprised to find her mother standing in front of her, her eyes swelling with tears. After she'd greeted Uncle and Auntie, all her attention turned onto her daughter. "Oh, my daughter. I missed you so much," she wrapped Amani into her arms. "The house has no taste without you."

Holding her mother equally as tightly, Amani battled the tears of how much she'd longed for her mother's presence. "I'm sure you were busy keeping Yazan and Habib from killing one another."

She chuckled. "Wallah, it was hard. I did not know how much they fought until you were no longer there to separate them."

Amani nodded. "It's every moment of the day."

"They cannot speak without fighting."

She laughed, accepting the kiss her mother placed on her cheek and her second hug. Over her shoulder, Amani finally saw her father step through the door after he'd greeted all the friends that had been waiting for him by the front door. Ever since that morning, they had 'set up camp' on the stairs with tea, loud conversations, and even louder laughter while waiting for their friend to return from his travels. Once she really thought about it, Amani realized they hadn't seen each other in longer than she'd been alive.

Her father seemed reluctant to approach her, both of them fully aware of the awkwardness they would have to break through in their first conversation. But her mother called him over.

"How have you been, my daughter?" He asked.

"Good, Baba," she smiled. Amani was no longer upset with him for making the rash decision to send her back home because that was what had been written for her. Had he not done it, she would not have met Um Muhsin, Farouq, Fayza, and Muhsin.

It was impossible to think of another way the events may have unfolded. A way that would not have brought her to stand beside him in the graveyard and connect their souls for the rest of their lives.

There was no longer an Amani without a Muhsin.

"I, um...," he cleared his throat. "I do not regret sending you here. You look happy, but I regret the way I did it. I should have given you more time. More of a choice. I hope you can forgive me."

Amani grinned. "I think being sent here was the greatest blessing, Baba, and it was all because of you. Everything worked out in the best way it could have. I'm not upset with you, I'm thankful to you and I'll continue to be thankful to you for the rest of my life."

She could have sworn she'd seen tears in her father's eyes before he blinked and turned away. "Well, yes. For that, I suppose we should say alhamdullilah."