Love and Letters ✔

Chapter 7

Love and Letters

Chapter 7

My plan failed miserably. I could not avoid Is-haaq or Humayra. At every corner in school, I tended to see Humayra. The more I wanted peace and quiet, solitude and just time to think about the letters that I happened to receive every morning, I saw Humayra more and more. It didn't help me to even hide out in my classroom during breaks, because she would come to see my class teacher on the orders of other teachers. On the days when I had to stay after school for additional tuition offered by subject teachers, I would find her also milling around school waiting for her brother to pick her up, or I would find her brother entering the Masjid for Asr Salaah.

Still, without a doubt, I received daily letters from Is-haaq. He had switched from the stiff, fancy envelopes to one I preferred better: white background with candy stripes in pink and blue.

Despite the fact that I complained about being unsure of Is-haaq and his motives, I couldn't deny that receiving the letters were flattering. What did he really want from me? He apologised. He even sent me chocolates as an apology. Why was he pushing matters by continuously sending letters through his over-excited sister?

He couldn't like me. He didn't know me. Love at first sight is such a ridiculous fairy tale. And even if he took a second look, it isn't enough to fall in love with someone. I couldn't understand it, and I was happier not knowing anything.

As the letters came throughout the days, I collected them all in a box and left it on a hidden shelf as I focused on my school work. Whenever I saw Humayra in the corridor or around school, I pretended to ignore the fact that her brother was using her as some kind of messenger and just treated her like any other grade 8 student.

On Friday morning, I was still doing my late coming duty at the Masjid when I saw him in his car. My heart stuttered like a hummingbird stuck in a cage. Could I not act like a child with a crush on some superhero? Could I not get my body to co-operate with me? It was embarrassing. "Am, is that your future husband there?" Suraya whispered in my ear.

"Sue," I said avoiding his direction. "I think so, but Humayra was on time for school. So, why is he here?"

"I wish I knew." She made a quick motion of grabbing our slip book and big, googly eyes.

It could only mean one thing: Mrs Omar was heading our way at a rapid speed.

I plastered on the bright smile and held my brown book with its unusually bright pink slips and made a show of playing with my pen. Once she was in our line of sight, Suraya and I greeted her in sync. "Salaam Mrs Omar."

Shocked, almost as if she hadn't seen us, she gave us a broad and fake smile. "Wa alaykum salaam, girls. How are you this morning?"

I smiled at her as I answered. "Fine, Alhamdulillah, Miss."

Mrs Omar nodded as she continued walking, pleased with herself.

"God, why must people be so fake?" Suraya grumbled as she sank into the brick wall. "Why must she always pretend to be happy to see us?"

I stifled a giggle as Shamira and Yumna joined us. "Because as principal it is her job to hold back her prejudices and treat everyone fairly. Which, she does, even if she doesn't like us. Anyway, it is our jobs as better Muslims not to talk about her," I said in an air of mock arrogance.

"Hey guys," Yumna said with a warmer smile than she had on Monday.

"Hey Yumna. How are you? You look like you're in a better mood."

She nodded. "The weather is much better."

"How are you Shamira?" I asked to be kind. I may get annoyed with her, but I wasn't rude. Unless I was provoked.