Better Late Than Never

13

Ayman had not planned on arriving late for the dinner but after drawing designs for most of the night and then for most of the day, there was only very little he could have done to stop himself from falling asleep after Asr and then waking up late for Maghrib.

He'd beaten himself up the entire walk from his place to Adil's family's home, and then he'd smiled in mild embarrassment when his cousins, aunts, and uncles teased him for being unusually late. Then he'd thanked Allah for allowing him arrive just as everyone else was sitting, and then his joy had known no bounds when he saw that the chair right beside Ayra's was unoccupied. It wasn't the first place he'd have chosen to sit on a normal day but the situation was different and he was going to make the most of it.

As Malik stood to give a little opening address where he thanked the Adeolas and Abdulazizs for honouring their invitation and then stated that – Allah willing – such meetings would only get even more frequent, Ayman found his attention more inclined towards Ayra who listened – just like everyone else – to Malik's every word.

Her outfit, like always, looked good on her. Ayman wondered if it was an outfit she curated herself or if it was a gift. Lilac was just another colour that seemed to have been made for her and he found himself being happy over the fact that a number of the new designs in the collections they were launching had lilac in them.

The others chuckling at a joke Malik shared had Ayman turning away from Ayra's smiling side profile. He had to make an extra effort to focus properly on the conversation. Bisan took over from her husband, telling the Adeolas and the Abdulazizs with rosy cheeks and a bashful smile that she may have gone overboard with the dishes prepared simply because she wanted to impress them.

"We tried to make one or two Yoruba dishes," She told them, her cheeks darkening even further. "But we didn't get it right. So here's us hoping you'll be willing to share recipes as time goes on and we get even closer."

Falilat did not hesitate to say she didn't mind giving them the recipes that evening. With warm smiles and little laughter, dinner began. Dishes were uncovered and aromas filled the air; a combination of English dinner choices and Palestinian meals. From bread and salads to dippings and sauces, the table had it all, and it was near impossible for everyone present – apart from those who were involved in preparing the dishes – to be amazed.

Ayra took it all in, recognising some dishes and not recognising others. She couldn't help but laugh when Ibtihaj said "ómó", and neither could Adil. While he – Adil – stated the names of his mother's native dishes, Ayra turned to Ayman who handed her a folded table napkin. She took it from him, smiling politely. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She unfolded the napkin and spread it on her laps, asking hushedly "Are we going to finish all of this?"

"Thank God for freezers and Tupperware." He said jokingly which earned him a wider smile from her; one that he returned. "And there's always charity."

She nodded, turning away from him. "Thank God for all of that...I don't recognise a lot of dishes here and Adil has gone too far with Ibty for me to catch up."

He sat up straighter and leaned forward a little. "It's a good thing I recognise them too. Let's start with the Salata Falahiyeh, which is the farmers salad, and that's Taboon which are flatbreads baked in the clay oven Aunt Bisan made sure to erect at a corner of the compound. I'll take you there when we're done if you want."

Ayra found herself excited in a childishly curious way. "I'd like that."

He gave her a single nod in reply, mentally cataloguing the tour for after the meal. He continued. "Those are the main dishes; the Maqlubeh which is flipped over rice, meat, and vegetables, and the Hashweh which is simply spiced rice and meat..."