The Ummah: The outbreak

Chapter 1

"How long can you stay out?" I asked Husniah.

She was supposed to be at her friend's bridal shower, but she was skipping it to hang out with me. We never got to hang out because of her parents being strict, so whatever chance we got, we took it. I left work early after my boss left, though I'd get threatened the next day if someone snitched; and she blew off plans with her friends, despite their anger.

"Until 12. My dad said I had to be back by 12," she replied, tucking in a strand of hair underneath her scarf. The strand just fell right back out, but she didn't seem to notice. She wore a long, burgundy, velvet dress with a gray sweater over it. She probably wore the sweater because the dress was strapless. I yearned to see her dress without the sweater, but alas, I couldn't.

"Oh, four hours," I said with a mischievous smile. "I wonder what we could do with that time..."

"Ina bes," she said blushing. For us, ina bes was just the verbal way of rolling your eyes in arabic, or it was like saying "I'm done with you."

I laughed. "But for real, though, what do you want to do?"

"I'm not sure... To be honest, I'm not in the mood to do anything."

I glanced away from the road ahead to look at her. "What's the matter, babe?"

"It's just one of those days, I guess," she replied indifferently.

"One of those days" meant that she was in a depression. Every few months for as long as I'd known her, she would fall into a depression for about a week. I never knew why, and she refused to talk about it with anyone. She said not even her parents knew that she'd even get depressed. All she told me was that the depression would be at it's worst in the spring time, and it'd last more than a week. It was spring time now, but she didn't seem to be too worked up.

I still felt bad though. It always broke my heart when she'd be like this. So instead of taking her back to my house like I'd originally planned, I went in a different direction. After a couple minutes, she began to look around out of the window.

"This isn't the way to your house," she noted.

"I kind of figured that," I laughed. She smiled a little. After a short moment longer, I pulled over beside central park.

"We can't make out here," she said bluntly.

I burst into laughter. "I wish you could hear the way you sound right now. We're not here to make out, we're here to chill." I took the keys out of the ignition and opened my car door. "Come."

She followed me out of the car and we walked down the park's path in silence for a while. Every few minutes, she would glance up at me with what I could only imagine was confusion. I understood why though. This was something new between us. Every time we met up, we'd make out, and everything else that we had to say was left for when we'd talk on the phone or text. Although I felt the desperate need to make out with her-- so desperate, she was the most beautiful person I'd ever seen in my whole life-- I knew that what she needed was someone to talk to. So I was going to give that to her. 

Once we were deep in central park, I strayed off the path and walked to a tree and sat. She stood beside where I sat. "What are we doing?"

I took off my jacket, exposing my sweater underneath, and laid it on the ground beside me and patted it twice. "Sit, babe. Let's talk."

She sat carefully. "Am I in trouble?"

I smiled at her. "Of course not. i just want you to tell me what's the matter."

"Nothing, it's just--"

"Don't lie to me, either."

She stared at me for a long moment, frowning and studying me, then sighed. "I don't know, Muhammad. You know that I cant tell you the main thing though."

I smiled again, but a painful one. "You know, it kind of hurts."

"What does, habibi?" She asked.

"The fact that you don't trust me enough to tell me why you always get so depressed," I replied, studying her this time. "And then I'm supposed to make you feel better? You just use me, Husniah, every time you get depressed, you're text is 'Hey, when can we make out? I miss you.' You don't miss me--"

"Muhammad, what's going on with you?" she asked. Not in an argumentative way, but in curiosity. "You want the same thing. You use me to feed your lust, I like to make out with you because it makes me feel better. Whats wrong with that?"

I sat there for a long moment, staring into my lap in annoyance. I didn't know why I was bringing all that up. It had just came out. 

"I love you..." she said softly. In a way that melted the coldness that was in my heart just a few seconds before.

I looked up into her eyeliner bordered hazel eyes. They seemed to be pleading. I gently took hold of her chin and pulled her face closer to mine.

"We're outside," she whispered halfheartedly.

"Don't worry," I said quietly against her lips. She closed the distance between our mouths and our bodies.

A couple minutes in, she was sitting in my lap with her arms around my neck and my arms around her waist. 

And then, all of a sudden, I could see a dim light beneath my eyelids. I didn't pay much attention to it, until I heard something that sounded like an explosion somewhere in the far distance.

She pulled away quickly. "What was that, Muhammad?" She had a look of panic in her eyes, which only worsened when we heard screams in the distance, followed by sirens.

"What's going on...?" I said, more so to myself.

She got off of me and I jumped to my feet. "C'mon"

Husniah took my hand and we began to walk toward the noises. 

That decision was one that would change the both of our lives forever. For the better, but before that, for the worse...