Palestwinians.

Nerves.

"If it scares you, it might be a good thing to try." - Seth Godin

~ Yasmine's red dress to the side.

Chapter 33 - Nerves.

To make up for my lack of sisterly love, I decided I would take the twins shopping. Hey, I know it’s not the most creative thing, but if there was one way to win a girl’s heart, especially with those two, it was shopping. They were worse than me when it came to spending, but if I was truly honest, I was the exact same when I was their age. 

So here we were, walking down the lanes of our smallish shopping centre, slushies in hand. Since it wouldn’t be much of a reconcilement if they paid with their own money, I was spoiling them and paying for anything they wanted. Unbeknownst to many, not even Zach, I had saved up quite a lot of money over the years. Not only from pocket money, but from the few summer jobs I had worked, back when I was still in school. I rarely touched it, knowing it would come in hand one day, but I truly felt bad and wanted to give the twins a nice day out. 

Some of the money would go towards my wedding and the dresses. In our culture, the man paid for the wedding and everything that came with it, but there was no way I would put that much of a burden on Zach’s shoulders. I knew he was already stressed about finding a job, and even I had started looking. It was nothing new though. So many Gazans here had difficulties finding a job and even after graduating and spending years searching for a job, what they’d end eventually up with, usually wouldn’t even revolve around their field. 

Since we both haven’t graduated yet, or close to, any job for the time being would be useful. Although it’s not the norm, Zach said we could just live at his house, until we get our own place. I didn’t realise it before, but the anxiety and stress was slowly starting to build up within me. What with mum barking down commands for the wedding down my ears everyday, jobs, finances and the actual concept of marriage. 

Maybe I needed this shopping trip more than the twins. 

I blinked and shrugged away from my thoughts as Rida squealed and pointed to a dress in the window. Immediately, me and Nadia were being pulled into the shop behind her. 

“I think it would look better on me,” Nadia exclaimed, perching a hand on her hip. 

“No it wouldn’t!”

Oh God. They were going to go at it again. 

“It suits my skin colour better!” 

“I saw it first! I got dibs!” 

“You can’t stop me from buying it if I want to! Yasmine, you’ll buy the dress for me right?”

Accustomed to this common banter between them, I just rolled my eyes and walked off to let them sort it out. There was only so much shopping I could handle with those two. I just hope they don’t begin to maul each other in front of the customers. They’d definitely be traumatised. 

Even though Nadia and Rida were identical twins, they never wore the same thing as each other. They hated it. My mother used to dress them in the same clothing but growing up, they began to despise it more and more. I think it was because of the fact that no one could recognise who was who, and that used to really annoy them. More than anything though, they hated being seen as two in one. Both had their separate identities, which manifested itself through their personalities. I understood why they hated looking identically and I supported them in many varying ways as they grew older. That it was OK to like something your twin didn’t or to study a subject your twin hated. 

I took another sip from my sour slushie and proceeded to scan the clothing on the walls and racks. Finding nothing of interest, I walked back to the changing rooms where the girls had last been. At that exact moment, they both walked out, looking glum.