Just Make Du'aa

• e l e v e n •

Dina

The bed was still empty when I woke up. I don't know what I expected, for it to be a dream? My neck hurt, actually, my entire body hurt from being curled around the Qu'ran all night. I miss him, I missed him terribly and I wished that yesterday never happened. An image of him coming through the door and taking me into a hug made its way to my mind and the tears appeared again. I don't know when I fell asleep, but I woke up with a wet pillowcase and here I was crying again.

How can it be that in only a few months he becomes such a vital part of my existence? I'm craving him. The knowledge that he spent the night somewhere else, mad at me, ate me alive. I wanted to call him, fix this. But when I checked my phone and saw that he made no attempt to contact me, I turned the phone off and forced myself off the bed. Praying would help.

Praying didn't help. We always prayed the first prayer of the day together. Doing it alone just tore at the hole in my heart. I sat on the prayer rug, thinking of what to do. Nothing came to mind. So I showered, got dressed, and caught the bus to school. Sitting at home all day won't make it any better.

The day dragged on and flew by all in one. He wasn't there to pick me up, so Amity drove me home. She knew something was wrong. She practically pounced when she saw my bandaged hand. Her questioning didn't stop until I snapped at her and made her drive away. An empty house greeted me, and I reluctantly walked into the kitchen because my body needed food. The dining table was still as we left it last night, and the sight brought tears to my eyes. What if he doesn't come home?

As soon as the thought crossed my mind I froze. He drove somewhere last night, he drove with anger! What if something happened? What if that was the last time I saw him? All the worst case scenarios filled my head and I was paralyzed in fear. This is my punishment, for being so cruel. I was really harsh and now I might not ever see him again.

I ran to pray the prayers I missed during class. After I finished, I'd call Aladdin and ask him if he heard from Farouz. Hopefully he's okay. Inshallah he is. He has to be.

There was no need to call. As soon as I stepped out of my prayer skirt, the front door opened. My feet raced one another to the door, and there he was. Still in his work clothes from yesterday. All wrinkled and battered. He hadn't shaved since yesterday morning, the already growing beard caused him to look even more unsettled. His hair stuck out at random places, and his tired eyes were glued to the ground. The spot where half the vase and a trash bin stood, untouched. I've been ignoring them as best as I could.

When he heard me, his head snapped up. Eyes bloodshot and wide. Farouz opened his mouth, then closed it. We stood, in silence, for a very long time. The clock ticked, every second an hour away. Then his red eyes trailed down to my left hand and he inhaled sharply. "You're hurt," his voice scratched from lack of use. But those words were still enough to shake me.

A sob ripped through me and my eyes blurred. I tried as hard as I could to hold myself together, but all the emotions I'd been bottling coursed through me and I had no control. My mouth opened, trying to say something, but all I did was sob.

His long legs carried him to me in three long strides, and I was in his embrace. Farouz held me as tight as his tired arms could muster and I held onto him with all my strength. I didn't want to let go, and he had to pry me off in order to look at my hand. "How bad is it?" his tired voice asked. But I didn't have the strength reply. So he unwrapped the bandage and, when the gash was exposed, closed his eyes. "This is my fault." I shook my head no. This isn't his fault, it's me, this is all me. "It's from the vase, I did this."

"Alhamdulillah," I forced out, my voice raspy, "it's not anyone's fault this was meant to happen."

"No," his voice was sharp, "it shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have lost my temper like that. I'm sorry, Dina."