him & her-it all started with a facebook message.

chapter 1

Yasmin, you’re free? :)

I looked down at my Samsung and feel a smile slowly filling my sullen features. It’s been a long day of classes and homework and the boys and Hoyoo and receiving a text from Nur allowed the frustration to slowly ebb away, but he’s always been that for me, the sun that chases away the clouds until you forget there was ever a storm. Nuradin Ahmed is my best friend. Ever since we moved into the building in the 6th grade we’ve been inseparable.

Yea, why, what’s up?

I count to 10 (Nur is probably the fastest texter I’ve ever come across) and as it has been for the past 5 years, without fail, he replies with a good, I’ll be up in six.   

I pull up my long, curly, untamed black with blond highlighted hair in a lazy bun and check on Abdi and Liban to see if they’re still asleep. Abdi is four and Liban is 9, and like my Mom they have light brown skin and big brown eyes and head of messy, silky curls. I open the door and look at them, the image of innocence and it breaks my heart because I know of the darkness hiding in the background. A fiercely maternal feeling overwhelms me and I go to each of their beds and tuck them in again, glancing at my watch as I do so. It’s 6, Hoyoo’ll be back at 8, and I’ve got to help the boys with their homework and clean the apartment, 3 hours will be enough I assure myself, “calm down Yasmin”. Curls are escaping out of my poorly done bun but I ignore it, my tall, 5”10 body is draped in a shiid of flowers and colors and life, my bare feet tap tap across the tile, the exposure chilling my heels and working itself up to my knees but I like it. The bell rings and I grin as I run to the door.

He draws his arms around me and I slacken myself into his embrace, “hey there Yaz, you look tired. Ready to boss around your personal slave for the rest the day?” I pull him into the hall and laugh, “you bet! Let me just get the shackles”. “Ooo, naughty aren’t we?” I throw the nearest object at him and he catches it with expertise. “Quit dreaming, you’re messing with the best basketball player in Toronto, probably in all of Ontario, you’re looking at a dude with scholarships galore and colleges jockeying to get him on their team, do you really think I won’t be able to catch a lamp?”

My eyes trail over his body in slight amusement. At 6”2 he is tall, responsible for most of Lincoln High’s most legendary shots and with long, lean, basketball fingers to prove it. Years of hitting the gym and lifting monster weights imprinted itself on his 6 foot frame, with shirts that define his muscles and stretch over his abs, and jeans slung just the right bit of low to let the imagination run wild. You’d think his caramel skin, chiseled jaw, and perfectly cut cheekbones would be enough but no, his eyes are just the perfect shade of light brown to suit the caramel and deep, intense, profound; with a smile that’s always there, a short fro of jet black curls, and pearly white teeth, it’s a surprise he’s single. He’d make a girl real happy someday.

“No, that was luck. And so is your perfect record you cocky loser.”

"Ah, the excuses the jealous come up with the world luck inserted somewhere in the sentence."

"I'm not jealous!"

"But you are Yaz, you are. Come on, time to wake the little guys."

We weave our way past the hordes of shoes scattered in the hallway until we near the center of the apartment where the living room is opened to the kitchen. The couches are a dark, olive green placed a couple inches off of the ground by a deep set mahogony laced with intricite designs. A flat screen hangs in the middle of the wall where a carpet is spread out immeditely under to complement the semi-circle arrangement of the couches. In the far left corner is a computer, where a curtained balcony to its immediate right is drawn open to let the light stream into the room. The kitchen, with its white cupboards, dining table, and stove with food perptually being cooked on it beckons me to be cleaned and I sigh.  I pick up a discarded action figure off of the tile with its sword drawn before someone unwillingly steps on it and place it on the counter. I turn to look at Nur, who, as always, is lying comfortably on his favorite one seater tuned into the sports center. I wonder guiltily at whether i should be waking up the boys, but shake my head and tell myself it's something I have to do.

I leave the kitchen, walk past Nur, and take a right down the hallway of endless shoes to their room. I open the door and as usual, am struck with the feeling of love that choruses through my viens as I gaze at the twin beds. A blue bedspread covers the two figures. There's a Quran on the nightstand, opened to the page Liban was learning before he fell asleep and on the desk, the contents of their backpacks that couldn't find their way to the book shelf. I smile as I look at baby Abdi's toys in a box at the foot of his bed and flick on the lights. "So kacaa you two! Nur's here." There's a slight stirring and Abdi bolts out of bed. "Nur's here? Really?" "Yes, he is, watching-"basketball", he finished. "Think he'll take me to the park later? I'm learning, it almost always goes in now. He's a good teacher." "I don't know, why don't you ask him?" On tip-toe, his tiny arms enclose around my wasit and as quickly as he hugged me, he lets go and makes a start for the door. "Hang on a minute sweetheart, wash your face and brush your teeth, alright?" His running slows and he walks, with his short, growing legs to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. Liban mutters something under his breath and pulls the covers over his eyes. "I told you to get up, Nur's here, don't make me come get him so he can throw your little body over his manly shoulders just to get you to the living room." He groans and drags himself out of bed, "I'll be right there. Let me just grab my books."

********************

Yasmin trailed the hall with her head hung low and the silk of her masr lightly brushing her neck. She was a thousand miles away, and the people with their loud and insistent lock-un-lock of their lockers and high pitch chatter barely made its way to her ears. She was so far away that she didn't even feel Nur tap on her shoulder and hear him call out her name until he angrily whipped her around to face him. "Damn Yasmin, I've been trying to get your attention." His face softened as he took in the worry etched in every line of her face.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Sit with me?"

He drapped his arm over her and said, "don't I always?"

He fell in step with her slow and thoughtful pace as they walked in silence to an empty bench. She sat down, gingerly, lightly, as if contact with the hardened wood would somehow slip her back into a reality she just couldn't face right now. He sat across from her, running his fingers through his curly hair, allowing the silence that surrounded them to continue until Yasmin found the words she needed to start. Her dark brown, almost black, eyes pierced into his for a second before she says,

"Liban failed math."

"Fifth Grade Math?"

"Exactly."

Her face crumpled. "What am I going to do? It's not like I have time to do anything anymore. I have to take care of Ali, visit Sharmarke in jail, and make sure Salim comes back in one piece every night. On top of all of that I have to clean, all the time, take care of Abdi, and make sure my grades are absolutely perfect. I preach about how important school is all the time to them, how it can get us somewhere. That's why we're here and not in Somalia, to become someone. Education's going to make that happen. I can't let him fall into the others fottsteps. Mom's too busy supporting us and I don't blame her one bit, but she's never home until late at night and Dad, Dad is never home. I'm gonna protect the last two, I swear. But how can I do that if I don't have time to go over Liban's schoolwork? How can i do it if I let him fail math?"

Nur looked at her in awe.

He let the words tumble out of his mouth the se cond he felt a plan formulate in his head.

"Why don't you let me come over?" He felt his words trip over one another like a child over their shoelaces but he didn't stop. "Yeah! Let me come over! Everyday after school, you're only 3 floors above mine, and it's not like I don't come over everyday of the week anyway. I'll come over and i'll teach him, we'll go over all his school work, and I'll take them both to the park every other day instead of just on weekends. I'll teach little Abdi stuff too, extra important life lessons, and Liban will have to attend those as well so Abdi'll feel grown and not left out. It's not like your Mom'll mind, she loves me. Ok, it's official, what time should I come over?"

Her mouth twitched, but only a second passed before she broke into a smille, a wide, happy smile that lil up her entire  face. He felt a part of himself, deep down inside, melt.

"Yeah, go grab your books, Nur's with Abdi. I'm going to go clean". In the hall, Liban turned around to look at me. "Can you make malawax for dinner?" "only if you get all the questions on the practice sheet right." He grinned, "alright then. Better start mixing the batter. I've got myself a siccck teacher." "Yes, yes you do."