Thorns and Berries

Chapter Ten

Husna

I didn't speak with Salma or any of the girls when I got back to the car. I was too angry to say a word. The ladies too were silent,  as though they have had a conversation about this before I came in the car.  When Salma drove us back home, I was the first to alight from the car,  banging shut and loudly the car door as I stepped out.
  
When I walked into the living room, the first person my eyes caught was a slender young man in janfa and a cap, engaging in what looked like a funny conversation with another unfamiliar older man and as he talked, he threw his head back in an uncontrollable fit of laughter, his perfectly arranged white dents coming into full view, adding to the beauty of his one cheek sided dimple. He was undeniably handsome. That was Muhammad,  my cousin and Salma's older brother.
        
"Muhammad!" I cried out, and ran to give him a tight hug.  The older man walked away to give us space.  I felt no tiny guilt for ending his discussion with Muhammad prematurely.
   
Giving a small laugh, Muhammad grabbed me tighter to him.
          
"Er babban ta!" He called.
   
I disentangled myself from him a few seconds later and scanned his entire body with my eyes, in admiration of his flawless good looks. Last I had seen of Muhammad was almost two years ago and right now, I knew just how I really missed him for that long period.
       
"I am so happy to see you, bro. I've missed you so much."
   
Muhammad gave his usual small laughs.
      
"And so do I, my crush. See how beautiful you've become."
     I faked a frown.
      
"So I wasn't beautiful before, huh?"
   
Muhammad laughed and caught me in a hug again, stroking my head carelessly while I fought to free myself from his grips in my pretence of anger.
       
"No na!" Muhammad disagreed. "You've always been my ever beautiful crush. And now, you are just more beautiful than I'd always known you are." He said and freed me the next second.
       
I fought inwardly to hide my blush. Muhammad and I had felt a thing for each other when we were teenagers but I had never wanted to imagine myself in a love circle with him. He was my cousin and although our religion permitted such a union to hold, my personal principles stood strongly against it. We were too close of a relation to engage in any sort of love relationship, be it long or short term. And when Muhammad had expressed his feelings to me on my eighteenth birthday, I had politely turned him down even though I betrayed her heart which was still very much in love, letting him know my personal take concerning our feelings for each other. Being as considerate as he had always been, Muhammad had understood me and let the issue die from that moment. And although I felt glad for the turnout of events, I had been so heartbroken. He was my first love and now, I was nothing more than a cousin to him. Years after that, I had looked back at our little drama and laughed at how childish the whole idea of the possibility of a love relationship with Muhammad was. I was definite that whatever thing we had felt for each other was mere infatuation and now a thing of the past, even though he was still my dream man. Calm, charming, understanding and God fearing. How lucky Halima was!
      
"You making me blush fa ."
      
"It's the fact, you know." Muhammad admitted again.
    
Suddenly caught by a reminder, I asked.
       
"Where's daddy? I Heard that you, daddy, and our uncles traveled to Maiduguri to buy cows. Isn't daddy back home too?"
   
Muhammad nodded in affirmation.
       
"Yes he is. They are all in uncle Buba's master room."
   
My eyes glimmered and danced at the news. My father was in the house, the same house I was in!
      
"I'm going to check up on him now. Thanks for the info, Muhammad. I'll catch up with you in a while." I said and took off almost immediately, heading upstairs to uncle Buba's room.
       
"I don't think you'd like to be there by this time, Husna. He's got...,"Muhammad's voice which quietened down as soon as it opened up. It seemed as though he was in protest of me going into uncle Buba's room, knowing too well how full the room would be, with our male relatives and other beneficiaries of uncle Buba.