Again Shauqina

Chapter 6: Enter the family

  'What? You are bringing a boy home? A Eurasian boy?'

I had to bring my phone away from my ears. I did not blame her. Poor Mak. Here she was, having to grapple with a grieving daughter who received lots of flak from relatives who voiced loudly their 'concern' over a madrasah girl in a secular, junior college. Her worst fears seemed to be coming true.

'Are you—?'

'Crazy! Yes, I asked myself that question too, Mak! But Isaac is really good in Literature and I can help him in Malay Language. Besides, you can take a look at him yourself and if you don't trust him, I can always cancel the deal.'

'Can't you get a tutor sayang? A female tutor?'

'You know why I can't Mak. Besides, Abah already gave his consent.'

I could almost imagine my mother choking on the line.

'He did?'

'Yes.'

'And he said...?'

'He said—I trust you, Eze. I know you will not do anything to bring disgrace to yourself and to your family. That's what he said.'

There was a long pause. I know my mother's train of thoughts. My father is her husband and a husband always makes the decision and for the sake of matrimonial bliss, the wife should say 'yea' when a decision has been made. My mother is like that. Jannah or heaven, for her is really the blessing from her husband. I myself was surprised at the ease at which my father had said 'yes'.

A greater surprise awaited me at the front door.

I was greeted by my mom but sitting peacefully on the sofa was my father, reading today's papers which he had already read in the morning before going to work, as of his habit. He did not look up from his papers as I went over to kiss his hand. My mom gave me a questioning look.

'Isaac is downstairs taking the lift after mine. '

'Your father took emergency leave.'

You don't say.... I thought wistfully.

The doorbell rang. My heart stopped as my father stood up, folded his papers deliberately slowly, walked deliberately slower to the door and opened it.

'Salam Pakcik!' I heard Isaac's cheerful voice. Idiot! Why did he give my father the Salam? I almost expected my father to slam the door back, but instead, he extended his hand and let Isaac bring the hand to his forehead. Why did he do that? That practice of showing respect to an elder by kissing the hand or putting it to your forehead and stooping a little is a Malay culture. Nothing to do with the British. Nothing to do with Isaac for that matter. I saw Isaac's head by the doorway as he stooped and the evening sun shone on his dark brown waves and I felt my heart stopped again.

That reminded me so much of you, Zak. That was the colour of your hair that day after we finished the basketball challenge...

I looked away and saw my mother's eyes on Isaac. I can guess what was in her head. She must have thought what a good-looking and well-mannered young man Isaac was and I would have kicked her in the shin if she was Zafirah or even Rina. Alas! She was my mother.

'Come in, come in.'

'Isaac. But, please call me Zack. Hafeza here would never call me Zack. I don't know why.' He added, looking genuinely hurt.

Both my mother and father coughed simultaneously that it did seem tragically funny. I looked angrily at Isaac. Such a good actor! Already in the good books of my father! Now in the 'to be pitied' book of my mother. The scoundrel!