Just Make Du'aa

• s i x •

Dina

June 28th. Since it was officially summer, Amity and I had moved back home. But a week before today, she drove back to Austin with me and my family. We all stayed in hotels. Yesterday most of the guests from my side arrived (all of his guests already lived in this city) in time for the Henna party. The Henna party is one for the bride only, the groom only visits it for a few minutes to greet some guests and his future in laws. The party was all women, what happened in it was simple: the decoration of the bride. My mom hired a woman to draw Henna Tattoos on my hands and feet. I, being the sentimental girl I am, let my best friend and mother both do a little design on each hand. Amity took my left hand where the ring will be she said, and drew an almost perfect smiley face. My mother drew a small heart on my wrist and said nothing, she was holding herself from crying the entire night.

June 28th. I woke up with no remembrance that I'd be married by the end of the day, that is, until Amity chucked a heavy feathered pillow at me. "Holy guacamole you're getting married!" She yelled, then my best friend jumped onto the bed and hugged me. The embrace lasted for longer than I expected, and when she finally let go, there was a track of tears under each eye. "I know I'm being over dramatic right now," she sniffed, "but like... I remember when we were fourteen and we talked about the perfect guy. You always thought you'd get some man your parents chose for you, someone you had nothing in common with, and you'd have to learn to love him. You thought you'd have to settle, and move back to Egypt. But wow, Dina the exact opposite happened. You're marrying a doctor, a good Muslim American! Who loves you, and I know you haven't said the exact words to each other, but I see it in your eyes. You haven't even held hands that many times and there's love in the way you look at each other."

She sniffled and continued on, "you defy all stereotypes Dina Ramadan. A Muslim woman who lived on her own for the first two years of her college life. Who's marrying a man of different culture, a convert. A woman so gentle she's strong." Amity smiled, "you're my best friend. Through my eyes you're the best person in the entire world. I love you, and I feel like I'll love you more than he ever will but we're not having this discussion now." By now we were both crying, but that made me laugh. "This is both tearing me apart and making me the happiest and proudest person on earth. You are my number one, but from now on, I'm you're number two. I love you a lot okay? Congratulations! I'm really happy for you I swear I'm just selfish and I want to make this about me."

We both reached for the tissues and laughed while we cried. "I hate you so much," I joked. I believed her, there is probably no one happier for me than my best friend. But we've been inseparable since we were fourteen, so this is hurting me as much as it's hurting her. "I'm not going to stop being your best friend, and you'll always be mine okay?" She nodded, sniffling and sobbing. "I love you so much and I can't wait until you meet someone worthy enough of you."

I pulled her into another hug, and the two of us cried for what felt like hours. Then she pushed me off, "oh stop crying!" Amity yelled, her eyes wet but no longer letting out tears, "this is a happy day you goof! Now let's go get some really unhealthy breakfast for the not-last-time!"

Just like that the mood changed.I prayed, then texted my parents that Amity and I were going to IHop so they don't worry when they see our room empty, texted Farouz saying good morning, threw on a long sleeved shirt, some jeans, wrapped my hijab and ran out the door. Thankfully the restaurant wasn't too far and we were able to walk there. Like usual, I ordered a waffle, she ordered french toast and we shared. Talking about our plans for the next school year and who she was going to room with now that I won't be there.

"I'm thinking of rooming with Lucy, she's sweet, and we're both majoring in history so it should work out pretty well," Amity talked through a mouthful of waffle. Honestly, how can someone so pretty and petite eat like that?