Gamble

5. Red hijab and the brother

I ran my fingers through my bed hair to straighten them. It wasn't like someone would see it anyway, I was going to wear my hijab.

I woke up at 8 with Zehra hovering over me. I am a pretty heavy sleeper but you gotta know when someone's breathing right on your face. I woke up with a start.

"Zehra you piece of sticky bubblegum. The door," I point towards my bedrooms door that is now a new home to all my quotes posters. "It's closed because you are supposed to knock." I said.

"Yep but when something is this special you just have to barge in, it's part if the fun." She climbed on the bed and I squirmed farther than her out of fear of being crushed under her.

"What? Doctors found a cure for your excuse of a mind?" I asked, to torment her for waking me up at what was still dusk for me.

"Maybe not so special" she played along. "But guess what" she clasps her hands together.

"Say it already." I grow impatient.

"Naeem's brother is back from America for a couple of days and Daddy invited his family for lunch today" she checks her watch, "they will be arriving in 3 hours and 24 minutes." She exclaims.

I curl myself in a ball and draw the covers up my body. "Good, plenty of time to sleep then. Close the curtains on your way out."

She pulls the covers, revealing me to the hostile cold air. I give her a death glare. "We need your help downstairs" she said before pulling the curtains close and leaving the room.

About 3 hours later the enormous house cleaned and polished by me and Zehra was filled with the beautiful aromas of traditional Pakistani and Arab dishes that left my stomach grumbling. I barely got 20 minutes to brush and scrub myself clean when the bell rang as I pinned my hijab in place.

No time for makeup. Just great!

I was given the responsibility to greet Zehra's in-laws by the door and lead them to the drawing room where they would be met by Uncle Zaman and Aunt Aalia.

Just spraying a sprinkle of perfume I ran down the steps in record speed, briefly glancing at myself in the mirror near the door before opening it.

I looked through the peephole and as expected, it was the Mahmud family. I greeted them waith salaams and motioned them towards the drawing room. Mr. and Mrs. Mahmud went in first followed by Naeem who passed me a friendly smile and then his brother whose gaze lingered at me for a moment before following the lead of his brother.

When all of them were seated Zehra entered and said her salaams before aunt Aalia sent us to dish out the meals and set the table.

We didn't eat in silence. We desi/arabs never do. Everyone was chatting except Naeem's brother, Adnan, whom I was sitting across from. He was staring at me to a point where it became rather uncomfortable. Naeem noticed it and nudged his brother, busing him with stories from school, in which me and Zehra chimed in regularly.

The rest of the meal went smoothly.

After the meal tea was served and the elders left us youngsters to chat in the living room while they went back to the drawing room.

We sat there awkwardly for a couple of minutes before Zehra finally broke the silence.

"So Adnan what's your major?" She props her chin on her hand that is resting on her crossed knees.

"Accounting" he replied.

Zehra just replied with an Oh, because anything with numbers was out of her league.

But her attempt to start a conversation went successful as all of us grew more comfortable and started chatting as we knew each other for years.

Where looks were concerned Adnan is no different from his brother, both of them had inherited their light brown hair and hazel eyes from their mother. Adnan's face was, however, more fuller and his features harsher. He had a scar right below his left eye, but it just perfected his looks. He was, indeed, concealing his emotions, his every movement calculated, from picking up his glass of soda or tipping his head back as he laughed at something Zahra said that I failed to hear. But I had no doubt he knew I was looking at him. He just wasn't making it look obvious, saving us both an awkward moment. Naeem, on the other hand had a subtle charm in his personality that his brother lacked. Naeem was handsome, not in an obvious way his brother was but the lack of harshness in his face was filled with his gift of making people like him. When Naeem had asked for Zahra's hand, it didn't take long for her parents to agree as uncle Amir and his father were friends from the local mosque and Naeem was also a regular prayer there.

Not long after it was time for them to leave. Adnan handed us the gifts he bought for us from America before they left.

They were matching hijabs. Mine in red and Zehra's in deep blue.

I went back to my room with a strange, incomprehensible feeling.

The day being a Friday was spent binge watching Pretty Little Liars and eating an unhealthy amount of popcorn that I and Zehra took turns to make. 5 episodes in and we called it a night. Zehra had to sleep in my room as the heater in hers was currently out of order. She puts her makeshift bed on the floor as I got into bed.

It was just like old days, when we would spend hours at times, talking when her parents believed we would be sleeping. Our talks would consist of a whole lot of different topics, it would start off with discussing new fashion trends, and how we would incorporate them with our modest clothing, to more serious things like the time when Uncle Amir lost his job. And how my father has morally and financially supported him to stand back on his feet and start his own business. And how wonderfully everything it had worked out, as if he had lost something small to receive something big in return. I smile as I drift off to sleep, only if life was as simple as it was before, I think before dozing off.