Faith

Chapter 14

NASIHAH'S POV

When I come home, I put my purse down on the dining table and start searching for Zaidan. I find him in the kitchen wearing a white T-shirt and gray basketball shorts. His wet hair is falling over his eyes. I have the urge to push it back, but he's bending into the open fridge.

"Assalaamualiekum," I say.

"Waliekumassalaam." He shuts the fridge and looks at me. "Did Mom make pasta yesterday?"

"Yeah. I gave you a bit last night."

"Well," he sighed. "That's all we have for dinner tonight."

"That's okay. It's pretty good."

"Why don't you go change? I'll heat some up."

I nod and leave him in the kitchen. In the bedroom I sigh heavily and begin unraveling my scarf. I place the pins in the pincushion in my nightstand drawer. Then I move on to slipping out of my clothes. Making sure the door was locked, I walk to the drawer set.

Zaidan cleared the bottom two drawers for me, so my pajamas, socks, and undergarments were stored in them. I open the second to last drawer and stare at my clothes. I remember Julie's advice. I want to appeal to Zaidan, it's almost a desperation, but I'm not that desperate.

I pull out a purple T-shirt and black leggings. Standing up, I put the clothes on. Normally this outfit wouldn't have bothered me, but now? The short sleeves are all too revealing and I feel like the leggings are cutting off blood flow to my legs. Oh well, no pain, no beauty. Or it it 'no pain is beauty'? Or 'no beauty is pain'? That last one doesn't even make any sense.

Shaking my head, I shut the drawer with my foot and pull down my shirt. I stop in front of the mirror. I completely forgot about my hair. It looks like all my hair just walked of my head, got into a dogfight, rolled around in an alleyway in the especially shady parts of New York City, spent some time in a tornado, then finally arranged itself in the ugliest way possible on my head. Annoyed, I make my way to the bathroom and comb my hair then set it in an orderly fashion on my shoulders. Deciding I would look like a zombie without it, I leave the tiny bit of eyeliner and mascara that I'd put on this morning on and leave.

Zaidan's sitting on the couch in the living room with his back to me. I go and sit next to him. He stares at me for a moment but then smiles.

"Hey. Here's your pasta," he says, handing me a bowl with steaming pasta and specks of shredded Parmesan cheese. A fork is sticking out of the swirling mound.

"Thanks." I take it from him and shift my legs so I'm sitting cross-legged.

"So... How was work?" he asks, chewing.

"Good." I took a bite. "What about you?"

"Good."

It's very very very extremely overwhelmingly awkward right now. I suddenly see Julie in my mind. Make conversation, Nasihah! she scolds.

"Fine, sheesh, calm down." I don't realize I spoke out loud until Zaidan gives me a weird look and says "are you okay?"

"Yeah, sorry," I laugh nervously.

"Thinking out loud?" He grins at me. I nod. At this point the song is stuck in my head.

Honey, your soul
Could never grow old,
It's evergreen

I smile to myself. Zaidan shifts so that he's sitting cross-legged and our knees touch. Why am I blushing?

"So, you wanna watch a movie?" he asks after he's finished his pasta.