"Finaya b'naat?" Auntie Hajar asks, which means "Where are the girls?"
"They're in Manhattan," I say. "I couldn't bring all of them with me."
"Mommy, I don't wanna go to bed" Adam yells.
"Shut up Adam!" Sara yells.
I haven't heard Sara's voice in a couple of years but dang, she has some attitude for a 1st grader. Even Hawa couldn't compare (surprisingly).
I had to go back, who knows where or what the girls are doing right now.
"Tata Hajar?" I ask "Could you drive me to the girls?"
"Of course, anything for my beautiful niece." My auntie says in Arabic.
Auntie Hajar straps Sara and Adam into their car seats. Adam keeps playing with the clicking noise of the car seat belt, while Sara is playing games on her bright pink iPad.
I click my seatbelt, it's been months since I've been in a proper car, let alone a car that wasn't a taxi. Auntie Hajar pulls out a GPS and starts driving. Only 20 minutes, this shouldn't take long.
YOU ARE READING
The Halimi Sisters
Adventure𝔸 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕠𝕞, 𝕤𝕚𝕩 𝕓𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖 𝕄𝕠𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕚𝕞𝕞𝕚𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝𝕤, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒 𝕤𝕦𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕙 𝕒𝕦𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞, 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕘𝕠 𝕨𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕘?
