Converting to Islam

Chapter 8

My body is frozen. My eyes glued to the scene displayed in front of me. Lucy opens her eyes from her deep sleep and screams when she sees me. This wakes Tyler. Both of them stare at me motionless, their mouths open in a gasp. Warm, salty drops splash on my cheeks as my vision blurs. What the hell is going on?  I only left for one night and he cheated on me? And with my so called ‘best friend’ Lucy?

I can’t breathe. I need to get out.

I storm out the room, out the house and into the streets, free from that disgusting stench of the perfume. Rain shoots like ice on my head, mixing with my tears. I keep running and running, until I finally give in and sit on the wet ground, hopelessly. I draw my knees together and place my head on them, sobbing. By passers stare at me like I'm crazy. Yes I am crazy, stare at me all you want. It’s supposed to be around noon but the sky is darkened with clouds - I am surrounded by darkness. 

The sight of Tyler’s arms around Lucy’s shoulders remains in my head. His frozen face not even being able to portray an excuse. No one loves me: my parents never did, Tyler never did and now even my 'friend' has turned her back in me. I might as well just go and die. Grim thoughts cloud my mind as I only hear the sound of my sobs. I can’t stop crying. I just can’t.

Just that moment a calming sound erupts into the air. It’s so familiar. All the thoughts of death clear my mind as this beautiful sound finds its way into my ear. It’s that thing in Arabic.

Allahu Akbar

I turn around to see where this noise is coming from; behind me stands a small mosque with a loudspeaker spreading this musical sound, though it is not very loud. Men start walking in the streets towards the mosque. All of them head towards one destination, as if they are all united.

Though the sound is enchanting, for some reason my sobbing increases. The sound is so magical I want to sob more. I want to cry for all the mistakes I did with Tyler, all the years which I have lived my life in depression and all those times that I have felt alone, like no one loves me. My face is red as snob and salt water pour like a shower of dismay. 

"Excuse me, are you okay?" 

That voice. I know whose it is. But how could it be possible? Slowly my swollen face turns toward the voice to see Daniel standing there, his eyebrows draw together in worry.

"Why are you crying?"

What do I say? How can I tell this boy about the dismay in my heart that is constantly eating my life away, so slowly and painfully until there is hardly any happiness left? The cold wind slaps my face as my hair sticks to the wet surface of my skin. My clothes are soaked wet and cling to me like ice.

I cry despite my embarrassment, "I have nowhere to go; I have no one who loves me." I sound lame with my croaky voice and pathetic whines.

All the while he speaks with a glowing smile on his face, "The Mosque is a home to everyone."

I gasp. Was he really inviting me into the mosque - the place where all the Muslims were going to pray? His request gives me a spark of wanting and determination – inside the mosque is dry which is better than out here.