ZAID AND MARYAM ~ Their Story

21 - Fond Memories

--- ZAID KHALID ---

The moment I realized the pink girl was watching me smash eggs on her friend, I knew I was done for.

She came running fast and grabbed my hoodie from the back and pulled me towards the ground. I felt like siren bells ringing as I felt the pain of a huge slap from her and my head felt like it cracked. Tears stung from my eyes. I didn't know how to stop them, how to tell them I didn't know their language, how I didn't understood what they said at all.

The parents were called. The mom of the black headscarf girl glared at me frequently as she wiped the egg stains on top of her daughters head with a towel. But pink girl's parents smiled at me.
Mr Kasim came too and I could tell he was tensed but he did smile assuredly at me when the principal wasn't looking.

We got into the lima and he bought me some popcorn and a soda on our ride back to the big house.

"Do you want to talk about it, Zaid? " Mr Kasim spoke in Turkish. I was relieved.

"I don't know," I replied. "She kept pulling my hoodie and kept on trying to hold my hand. It was weird. Girls got cooties."

Mr Kasim started laughing and drank some soda. Then he said leaning in, "I personally thought she deserved it. She looked down on everybody and I hate people who did that. Do not they know this world is temporary?"

There was silence for a bit then I asked him something which was bothering me for a long time.

"Mr Kasim, are you sure they're okay?"

The smile had left his eyes and he looked intensely at me. "I don't know what you mean. Who?"

"My parents," I said, my throat tingling as I spoke of them. "My Mamma and Abu. Oh and also Seyhan and Ali."

He did not answer me at once. But then he started slowly, "Yes, Zaid. In fact, we even got a postcard from them saying they're now in Egypt and they've returned safely. They promised to write you when they were settled."

"Can you show me the postcard, Mr Kasim? I would really like to see them." I said, relief running through my body. I felt happy for the rest of the ride.

"Yes you can. And Zaid, no more 'Mr Kasim' .Call me Abba. Bella and Sarah call me that. I want you to call me that too."

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The next week we were invited to go to visit someone.

"It seems her parents really took a great fond of you," said Mr Kasim, sorry, Abba. It felt strange calling him that. It reminded me of my own Abu.

The house was a very nice place, though it was not as big as compared to Abba's but still very nice.

Mr Hassan greeted us warmly and we headed to the living room.They explained 'Maryam' and 'Aziz' had gone shopping with her Mama. I didn't know who 'Maryam' and 'Aziz" was.

After some talk, the front door opened and a lady came in, grocery bags in hand. She smiled at me and greeted me and Abba. Behind her, a small girl walked in holding grocery bags too. I at once recognized those green eyes. Her brother came in too and I recognized him as well. He used to visit Mr Kasim's house- I mean Abba's house with Mr Hassan a few months back.

She scowled when she realized it was me and went up the stairs. I went to explore the house because I was bored. Once I reached the kitchen, their mother was in cutting vegetables. She smiled and I smiled back. I wanted to talk to her badly, she seemed like a nice person.

"Did you know I could speak Turkish too?"

I was amazed. "How?"

"My grandparents lived there," she said. "They taught it to me and I used to speak it  with them."

"My grandparents do as well," I said eagerly. "Though we lived in Yemen, my family knew Turkish very well. I wonder how."

Then we spoke a lot after that. She told me about her family and I told her about mine. She seemed really fascinated to hear about my stories. She even gave me the first taste of her special 'kabsa' she said she was making. I just wished Sehyan and Ali were here to taste this. Oh, well. I'll meet them soon.

Lunch was served and I'll never in my life evet forget the aroma of that delicious kabsa she had made that. As kind as a lady Mrs Laila was, she seemed really happy I enjoyed it.

And from that day on, every Wednesday, she made it a custom to send an extra lunchbox with Maryam for me, event though Abba insisted that the cooks back at home could make it for me.

But I liked her's best.

And Maryam liked to watch me eat it too. Slowly, her scowl for me started fading away.

After that, I guess you could say we got to be really good friends.