Gamble

1. Valedictory

I fold the beige sweater and tuck it in between the other garments, away from my mother's keen eyes, in her travel bag. I knew maa would never take anything of mine from her own will, no matter how much she needed it.

Be it like this then.

"Be what like this then?" My mother asks, a towel wrapped around her head as she exists the bathroom.

"Nothing." I lie, before mentally slapping myself from talking out loud and hastily throw some clothes on top of the sweater, ruining my mother precise folding in the process.

One look at the bag and she said, "Yusur! It's just two days. I won't even get a chance to wear it.' She exclaimed.

"Mom it matches the gold embroidery on the dress you are going to wear to the wedding. Oh, and Vancouver is freezing, don't believe me? Ask siri." To prove my point I pick up my phone and bring it near my face.

"Fine. I'll take it with me." she said at last, defeated. "When did you get so stubborn?"

"Everyone says I'm just like you." I say, pleased with myself. It's not every day you get to win an argument with my mom. Believe me I'd been trying to convince her for days.

The resemblance between us mother and daughter is striking. With the same ivory skin and grey eyes, the only difference between us is the hair colour. Instead of blond hair like my mothers, I inherited dark deep brown, almost black, from my father. But just as beautiful. I was often mistaken as an Arab whereas in reality I am half Turkish (Mother) and half Pakistani (Father).

"Hurry up Malaika!" my father, Zaid Khan, reminds her. "We have to be at the airport before 6."

"Okay everything is ready" my mother said looking around while wearing her abaya (gown). My father zips close the bag and takes it to the car, huffing and his posture slightly slanted due to the uneven weight.

After pinning the hijab in place my mom embraces me in a deep and long hug. "Come straight home after college. Eat on time. Your inhaler is on the bedside table. Keep it with you at all times. You can invite friends over, but no boys." She repeated the standard Muslim mother list for the umpteenth time that day.

"Does Saad count?" I asked, referring to my 7 year old cousin.

"Okay no boys above the age of 7." She made a teensy amend to her list.

"Mom I am going to be 18 in a month and a half."

"Right but you will always be my baby girl no matter how old you are" I grimaced at the cheesy mom comment. It was the first time in my brief life that my parents were leaving me home alone for more than a day.

After lodging the baggage in the car abba (dad) comes back , cupped my face in both hands he lands a gentle kiss on my forehead. I smiled at the fatherly gesture.

Mom slung the handbag on her shoulder and envelopes her daughter in yet another bone crushing but sincere hug and kisses both her cheeks as a traditional parting expression. Mumbling some more advices and a Fi Amaan Allah (May Allah protect you), she climbs in the car.

I lean on the doorframe and wave my parents goodbye. My eyes tingle but I refuse to cry. I stare at the black car moving further away, until it is nothing but a dot in a random assortment of colours on the busy street.

Little did she know it was the final valedictory.

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Heya, aloha, bonjour, Assalam-u-Alaikum :)

I'm glad you gave my story a chance. I know I'm not one great of a writer but I can and will be better than this with time. Hope you will give my story a chance and ride along with me and Yusur in our journey.

Your vote it will make my day :)

Leave a comment if you find any errors in my book (I have a feeling you will find many) and I will make sure to reply to it and amend my mistake.

Until then, keep smiling beautiful :*