The Essence of Noah (Muslim story)

Books

Noah knocked on my door an hour or so after my phone call with mum, and despite the little chat having assured me a bit, I still became frazzled when I heard the loud knocks. In that moment I contemplated not opening the door and shutting myself in the shower to drown any guilt that would arise from the matter, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Noah's nice, too nice to let down.

I opened the door with a nervous smile and an incurable blush, muttering a brief hello, before following him out. The walk to the kebab hut was mostly silent with the odd comment here and there about the warmer weather for a change and how obnoxious the red painted Chinese supermarket seems on the street. I laughed at that, recalling my first and last visit to the store. It wasn't awkward; The silence was comfortable and the conversations- no matter how brief they were- were unforced and normal. Mentally I thanked Noah, for being so casual, for not changing anything because of a few words.

We reached the hut, welcomed by the loud middle eastern music, bright white fluorescent lights and the smell and grease and skewered meat. Oddly enough it had become a vibe I was used to, I was starting to feel like a regular at Abu Tamer's, like I had a place that I knew and was known at. It's a nice feeling- to be apart of something.

Saleem greeted us at the counter with his never fading smile, and booming voice; he asked how we were, how Uni was going, and as always made sure we 'stayed in school'. Our orders were the usual and our same old table was empty, save for a few screwed up napkins littering the linoleum. Everything seemed so casual, so normal- no different to any of the other times we had come for a meal together, except this time when I took a seat, Noah wasn't there. He was still standing at the counter, talking with Saleem, and then Saleem left and returned with two thick, hardcover books and slid them on the metal counter to Noah. They exchanged words and Noah took the books, shoving them into his bag and shaking Saleem's hand.

After a few seconds he sat down in front of me, letting his bag fall to the ground with a heavy thud. I look at the bag on the floor, and as my gaze lingers for a few seconds too long, Noah clarifies.

"I like to read."

"So I noticed." A brief pause.

"So..." He smiles and leans forward in his seat, resting his arms on the table and clasping his hands.

"So..." I mimic, as I recline in my seat.

"I haven't done this in a while." He starts. "The whole, 'going out' thing."

"I haven't ever." I confess as the undeniable truth that Noah has probably had previous relationships, sinks in. He wasn't always Muslim.

"Right." Noah seems taken aback by my response. "Of course." I just nod, wishing I kept my mouth shut instead of the awkwardness I'd created.

"You've had relationships before?" I ask, hoping to fill my curiosity and the silence. Noah nods slowly, a small smile lingering on his lips as he rubs the back of his head.

"Uh, yeah I guess." He clears his throat.  "Not since high school though." I just nod, not getting the answers I wanted but not wanting to push further; that will have to do.

Our order comes and for the meantime we dig in, eating our yiros' with a side of falafel; the taste has grown on me. Noah smiles, laughing lightly as I eat a felafel and lick the crumbs off my fingers.

"How have your studies been going?" I ask. At my question Noah chews slower on his food and raises a questioning eyebrow. "The Islamic ones." Noah nods, swallowing and taking a long drink of coke.

"Alright. I mean there's a lot to take in." He stares at his plate then at me. "I've been reading fiqu recently." He struggles with the word, pronouncing it 'fic' instead, and I smile. "That's not right, is it?" I laugh.