When everyone had scooted back from the plates and began licking the tips of their fingers, the girls took the trays away while Joseph brought the hand washing paraphernalia back out for the guests, offering an embroidered hand towel for drying afterwards. As they sat back, both Hakeem and his fathers pulled small miswak, teeth cleaning sticks, from the breast pockets of their shirts and began picking their teeth in circular swipes. Abu looked at Hakeem in approval, but I just wanted to roll my eyes. What in the world? He was doing too much. Me and Laila would crack up about this later. Who picked their teeth in unison with their dad? Was that a thing?
"Shall we take our tea and cake in the living room?" Umi glanced at her husband, Mika'il. He followed her cue and began to stand up from the maidah.
"Come this way please." Mika'il beckoned to the guests, directing them to walk ahead of him down the hallway to the living room. I followed, walking nervously behind our guests. My mom's face was beaming, pleased with how the evening was going so far. Perfect white teeth shone from her beautiful black skin as she benevolently smiled all around, blessing everyone with her loveliness.
"Mom, check my teeth." I whispered feeling self conscious. Then I quickly smiled at Umi and tried to pretend that I wasn't asking her to inspect for leftovers in my choppers. Just in case the guests glanced our way, we wouldn't look suspicious. Even though I had my mother's features, the full lips and high cheekbones, I'd always envied the way my younger sisters' skin matched perfectly with Umi's flawless dark chocolate hue. I took after our father's caramel complexion. Once, in my tweens, I'd complained to him about it. Abu said something to me that he'd often repeated after that day. "All black is beautiful baby girl."
"You're good." Umi whispered back, grabbing hold of my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Teeth inspection complete, we passed the kitchen. I glanced in and caught Laila's eye, busy helping to put the leftover food away. Laila winked in encouragement and then mouthed the word "blood." I rolled my eyes as the nervous tension began to build in my stomach again. We resumed our seats on the couches in the living room. Now it was just us. My mom and dad. His parents. Hakeem. Me.
We were sitting directly across from each other. Instead of the couches facing a wall where a television might be the center piece, in the living room, the couches faced each other to encourage conversation and human connection.
"Thank you so much for inviting us over tonight," Hakeem's father, Brother Ishmael, smiled warmly.
"You really do have a lovely home and such a beautiful family." Sister Eugenia spoke up patting Hakeem's knee beside her own. Hakeem nodded in agreement with his mother.
"Very." Hakeem's voice caught as he spoke just one word and then cleared his throat.
He must be nervous too, I thought still staring at my hands folded neatly in my lap.
YOU ARE READING
Holding Hands
General FictionThere's no such thing as boyfriend/ girlfriend in Malika's Muslim community. So she just happens to be a super-virgin. She's quiet and reserved, never talked to a guy, kissed one, let alone even held hands. Sex is the scariest word she's ever heard...
