Starting Over (Islamic Fiction, Z.M)

Chapter 3 - (Hello)

After the movers finished putting the last of my furniture in the truck, my mom and I got in our car and we drove off to my new place. My place.

My feelings were a mixture of excitement, happiness, nervous and fear. I was so happy and excited to be moving out of my parents’ house and starting my own independent life as a college student but at the same time I was nervous and afraid of this new life ahead of me. I was going to start a new life alone, just me and my sense of judgment, which isn’t the best in the world.  What if I go back to my old self? What if I once again get involved with the wrong crowd? What if I collapse? What if I meet someone that makes me leave my religion?

There were too many what-ifs’ in my mind and the fact that I had so little confidence in myself just made my anxiety level increase. Before I knew it I had no nails on my fingers, I had been biting my nails for the whole ride. I hate that habit, how was I supposed to impress my new roommate with nasty looking fingers?

My new roommate! I almost forgot about her, yet another reoson to be nervous. I was going to meet her in just a few minutes, what would she be like? Would she be nice or mean? Would she be loud or quiet? Would she like me or hate me? Would she be a messy slop or a neat freak?

All these questions where building up my –already very high- anxiety level and I had no nails left to bite on. But thankfully we arrived.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath just to take it all in. This is it, my new place, the start of my new life and my new journey.

My mom was already out of the car and guiding the movers to the apartment. I stayed in the car for a few more minutes, just to let all sink in. Then I got out and followed them to the apartment.

The apartment was a mess. Furniture and boxes everywhere, men talking and moving things from one room to the other but luckily I noticed there was no one but my mom, the movers and myself in the apartment, meaning my new roommate was not here yet but her furniture was here. I wonder when she brought it.

Soon enough my question was answered as a group of maybe 6 or 7 people entered the apartment; my mom went to greet one of the 2 older women. She was about 48 or 49 years old, she wasn’t short but she wasn’t tall either. She wore nice layer of makeup and was dressed in a nice fashionable silk shirt with dress pants and black heels. She looked familiar in a weird way.

“Trisha, it’s lovely seeing you again.” My mom greeted in an overly excited voice.

“How are you Kendra?  It’s lovely seeing you too.” the woman, Trisha, said in a thick Bradford accent. Living in Yorkshire, Bradford accent wasn’t a strange thing to my ear. The two places where so close to each other, our accents were quite similar.

“This is my daughter, Maggie.” My mom motioned for me to come closer.

“Hello Maggie, I’m Trisha Malik,” She smiled and hugged me tightly. Malik, that’s why she looked familiar, she was Zayn Malik’s mom. Oh god, they are famous. That means they will be snobby and think they are better than everyone else. Why of all people did they have to be my new roommates’ family?

 “And this is my daughter Waliyha, your new roommate.” She pointed at a girl who was about the same height as me; she had light brown hair, dark brown eyes and slim body.

“Hey how are you?” she smiled shyly.

“Good, how are you?” I smiled awkwardly back and we shook hands.

She introduced me to her family who came with her. First her 2 sisters; Doniya who was 26, she just finished college last year and told us many stories and advices. And Safaa who was 15 years old and was always super excited about everything.