Good? Great.

The dinner

"Mother I don't want to look like a grandpa for the last hundredth time," Zackariyah whines as he tugs in the collar of his suit. Mama takes his hands away from his collar and smooths it out again before patting his head, "you don't look like a grandpa for the last hundredth time, leave that job to your dad. Now I want you to go wear your black socks, ask Baba for help if you need it."

Zacky whines and walks off towards his blue coloured room. I hold out the two dresses that I can't choose between towards my mom again and I see her roll hey eyes.

"They're both black and long, what's the difference?" She says while crossing her arms, "where something dark green or blue, I don't know anything but black."

I gasp, "mother they are not the same. Look at this one, it's a tad bit lighter than this one and it has the wavey type of lines down the skirt. This one on the other is a darker shade and has lace designs that overlaps the fabric beneath it."

"The first one." She says before turning around and heading to her room.

The second one it is. I walk back to my room and start putting it on. The reason I didn't want to wear anything other than black was because I didn't really want to impress Oba- Osama. I do wonder why his brother that he never mentioned before was coming. We did know that he didn't have any relationship with his father and since his mother was sadly not with us right now, he brought his brother....to maybe comfort him?

The thought made me sad, imagine growing up without a mother, and even though you did have a father he never cared for you.

Shaking my head to get rid of the thoughts overwhelming me I wrap my hijab around my head. It was plain black but to the sides I folded some peices to create a tiny flower. Voila! I'm done.

Putting on my foot that's accustomed for heels, I adjust the hinges and make sure the heel fits right on. The thing about prosthetic feet are, that you have to have at least three for different types of footwear. Low, medium and high. The hardest part is finding the right size.

I make my way downstairs and go towards the living room, siting down on the sofa, I sigh and consider helping my mom in the kitchen, but then again we can't have me slipping in these heels right.

"Romaisa come help me! No excuses!" darn it.

I get up and head towards the kitchen, helping my mother take out the forks and dishes. I lay them in orderly fashion onto the the table as best as I can.

"Ok all done, now we wait for this man and his brother. Make sure to really observe him but not too creepy stalker kind. Notice things you like and notice things you don't. In the end we tally up, and that can be your decision? Alright?" She says while placing a hand around my arm with a small smile.

I nod and smile back, "alright." She places a kiss onto my forehead and says, "good that's my girl."

My baba comes downstairs just as the bell rings, "look at the powers I have. I knew just when to come!" He says proudly heading to the door.

"No you just looked out the window." Says Zacky before picking up his toy truck again and racing it on the walls.

"Oh hush you little monster." My dad grumbles before putting a grin in and opening the door. Me and my mother stand to the side as Osama comes in with a bouquet of flowers. He says salaam to my father, then to my mother and then to me with a huge smile upon his face.

The next person that enters, I guess is his brother. Woah they don't look anything alike. His face is much slender and instead of wearing a suit like his brother is now, he's in a t-shirt with jeans and a leather jacket. He grins at my father and instead of shaking the out held hand, he grabs him into a hug.