Jannah. [SEQUEL TO DAWUD]

Chapter 7 - Dawud, The Babysitter

In the name of God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful

If the time of prayer has been called and you haven't prayed before reading this, please do so.

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Jannah's P.O.V

I stepped outside of class, following the wave of students down the main hall and into the school's general foyer. We now reached the last few weeks of summer, and the air began to cool. It felt nice not sweating due to the humidity outside and the humidity within this over-populated university. I adjusted the straps of my backpack and weaved my way through the free spaces in the crowd until I reached my destination. There, my husband sat with another boy at a little booth promoting the university's MSA (Muslim Student Association). Dawud smiled brightly, standing up as soon as our eyes locked. 'Assalamu'alaykum.' I said shyly, gesturing for him to sit back down. I wasn't the best at PDA, especially when the audience gawked at me the same way his friend did. Dawud chuckled and returned my salam. I looked at his friend, who now seemed quite young. He dressed boyishly and his beard hadn't peeked through, revealing the traces of adolescence still remnant within him. He wore a name tag but before I could read it, he was up and standing with a hand pressed against his chest.

'Sister, welcome to the MSA table. We are one of the largest committees on campus with over 120 members and volunteers.' He announced, speaking in a voice much lower than his vocal cords would have preferred. I was incredibly uncomfortable. I looked at Dawud, unimpressed and somewhat irritated. I just wanted to sign up, not speak to little boys. How old was he anyway? And would he quit looking at me like that?

'Yes, sister, would you be interested in signing up for a certain committee?" Dawud added, annoying me even further. But the slight curve of his subtle grin encouraged me to play along. 'We have the programming committee, which is in charge of the events that go on. There is the social committee, responsible for hosting events. Lastly, there is the well-being committee, ensuring the mental, physical and emotional well-being of Muslims and non-Muslims on campus-'

'That one.' I said, snapping my fingers. 'Do I have to fill in a registration form or something?'

'Nah, I'll do it for you.' Dawud said, finally looking over at his friend, who was still giving me the googly-eyes. His green eyes returned back to mine, this time uneasy and slightly protective. 'I'll see you at home, okay?'

I nodded, grateful that he noticed how unprofessional his friend was being. 'See ya, husband.' I said with emphasis. Upon hearing these words, his friend's eyes nearly dropped from his head. I studied the way he glanced from me to Dawud, mouth open with shock.

I walked away, expecting my phone to buzz any second with an unnecessary apology from Dawud but it didn't, not during the five minutes after that silly encounter or the three hours that proceeded until he got home.

I was dusting the bookshelf when Dawud unlocked the door. Running over to him as I usually did, I squeezed his middle tightly and sighed. 'Assalamu'Alaykum.' I whispered, inhaling and exhaling the scent that was my beloved. The past few weeks have been hectic, with school, his shifts at work and late-night-studying. It was moments like these that really made me feel like we were a married couple. I've made it a goal of mine to avoid Dawud in the halls, especially in big crowds. I didn't want any drama, at least not now when I was trying to maintain a high GPA. Both girls and boys would talk about us, almost like they were majoring in the field of Jannah and Dawud's marriage. But behind these apartment walls, it was him and I, just the way I liked it.

Dawud kissed my head and rubbed my back. 'Wa Alaykum Salam wa Rahmatullahi Wa Barakatuhu, Jannah.' He replied. I looked up at him, firstly taking in the length of his thick eyelashes as he blinked innocently. His hands ran down my hair, twirling the ends softly. 'I've been blessed.' He said quietly. I raised an eyebrow, pushing him to continue. 'Not everyone gets to come home to all the world's beauty compressed into one human being.' Dawud said before kissing the corner of my mouth.

I shook my head, grinning. 'You're wrong about that one.'

Dawud stepped back and removed his shoes, placing them neatly on the shoe-rack. He placed his satchel down as well and gestured for me to follow him in the bedroom. 'Do you know someone as blessed?' He questioned, trading his thobe for a t-shirt and shorts.

I nodded although he was faced away from me. 'Me, thank God.' I sighed, slipping down the mattress and leaning back against the bottom half of the bed frame. Dawud did the same, plopping himself next to me and stretching his legs out to match mine. They were longer though, and much hairier.

He was silent as he focused on one space at the far end of the room. 'Jannah there is something I wanted to talk to you about.' He said. I couldn't ignore the way my stomach sank. 'You might not like what I'm going to say, and that's okay, but I think it's for the best.'

I clutched his hand and took a deep breath. 'You're scaring me, Dawdie.' I admitted, squeezing his palms.

'You came to the table today to apply for MSA, but Habibti I don't think it's a good idea.' Dawud spoke, voice deep and eloquent. 'You were standing there for two minutes, but both the brother sitting next to me and the brothers working around me stared at you like you were a piece of meat. It took all the patience in me not to slap them upside the head.' He joked. I nodded, understanding where he was coming from. 'That's my concern. I don't want these brothers to give you a hard time and I definitely don't want to put you in a position where you were uncomfortable like you were today.'

I sat up straight. 'But you were all jokey-jokey with me today! You know, acting like I was your sister in Islam. I thought I was over-reacting about the whole thing because of how laid-back you were.' I rebutted.

Dawud chuckled. 'That was for you, Jannah. I can read you like a book. You were uncomfortable and irritated. I wanted to see you leave with a smile. That's all.' He tossed an arm over my shoulder and sighed. 'So, what do you say?'

I leaned against him and laced our fingers together. 'I won't join, Dawud.' I told him. We stayed like this for sometime before the question popped up in my head. 'Who was that little boy anyway? The one who sat in the booth with you.' I added. Dawud kissed his teeth and laughed.

'Ah yes, Umar. He's a silly kid, Jannah. Only seventeen years old.' He explained. 'His older brother Uthman is Abdallah's age, friends with all of us and is very knowledgeable, Allahuma Barak Lahu (May Allah bless him). He asked me to take his younger brother under my wing, but now it seems like I'm babysitting the guy.' He explained dramatically. The ends of his long curls tickled my forehead as he narrated the events that took place at that booth. We laughed, cringed and bickered until it grew late in the night. Dawud had an early shift and I had class in the morning, leaving us no time to prolong things. As I slipped into bed, recited Surah Al Mulk and said my athkaar, I felt butterflies in my stomach. I prayed that they would never go away. It was a gift that my husband could make me feel this way even after seven months of being married. Alhamdullilah.