Chapter 1 Nuriyah's P.O.V.
The clouds cleared and in my sight was the stunning New York skyline.
"All passengers please fasten your seatbelts as we prepare for landing," came the voice of pilot, on my returning flight from L.A.
Gosh! I've gotten so used to flying!
The plane landed safely, Alhamdulillah*. The pilots here are so much better at landing than the Spanish ones.
I took my hijab off and wrapped it around my neck, covering my hair with a warm hat before leaving my seat.
JFK Airport was, as usual, teeming with people from all over the world, bustling here and there.
I methodically pulled my bag off the luggage carousel and rolled it along with me. I'm extra careful with it since Nabila gave it to me as an engagement gift. It was a dark purple set that included a matching carry-on bag. I liked how shiny it is and how smoothly it rolled since it had four wheels, rather than the commonly found, two wheelers.
Nabila knows me so well, I thought to myself.
I opened my handbag to get out my pair of sunglasses. You know me and how messy my handbags always are. Honestly I can sometimes discover that I have left 100 Euros in one of them or my favorite plum lipstick in another.
While I fumbled around in my bag, the picture I had torn out of a wedding magazine flew out, into the Autumn wind. I couldn't go after it since I decided to wear heels today.
"Ya Rabbi* please help me get that back," I prayed out loudly.
"Excuse me, I think you dropped this," said someone in English behind me.
I turned around to see a fellow hijabi holding it.
"Jazakallah khair*! Oh my word! You've just saved my wedding hijab," I said taking it from her and deciding that my jacket pocket would be a much safer place than my handbag.
She looked me up and down for a few seconds then her blue eye's lit up.
"Nuriyah Martinez! Oh mein it's been fur immer!"
She said in what sounded to be a thick German accent.
"I'm sorry do I know you?" I asked puzzled.
"It's probably the hijab. I war nicht wearing it at that time when we met on the train," she tried to explain.
And then it clicked in my brain: the girl with the long blond hair. Gosh, how time has flown!
"Ameera" I said throwing my arms open for a hug.
'"Ja!" she squealed happily, hugging me back.
"How have you been? My word look at you! I love the hijab!"
"Danke for the email with the tips by the way. The travel turban is the best for tour".
"Oh, it's nothing, anything to help a sister out. Are you on holiday?" I asked.
"No, my husband is on tour," she said, pointing to her VIP backstage pass that was hanging around her neck.
"That must be so glamourous!" I complimented.
Ameera just shrugged. "It has its ups and downs," she stated plainly, "What about you?"
I opened my mouth to answer her but before I could, a man shouted "Ameera" from a big black bus.
Was that her husband? I wondered.
"Ich komme!" she shouted back to him, with an annoyed expression on her face. I guess that means "I'm coming".
