Letters To Jameela

{Chapter 1}

"Jameela, stop putting on Julia's perfume!" My mom yelled in her South African accent as I sat admiring myself in the mirror and testing out the perfumes on the vanity of one of the residents.

On my days off, I enjoy helping my mom clean the apartments. She loves her job but I get this unsettling feeling in my heart knowing that she's cleaning other people's toilets. Her hands don't look as healthy and youthful as they once did, with their crepey-like appearnece and prominent bulging veins. This is one of the main reasons why I work so hard in school. I'm graduating with a Bachelor of Science in Biology in a few months and I've already signed up to take my MCAT.

It was never my dream to become a doctor, quite the contrary really. I've always wanted to become a housewife. Call me crazy, but something about cleaning and raising children really excites me and makes happy.

"Jameela!" My mom shouted while snapping her fingers in my face stopping me from my absent minded daydream. " We still have so many more apartments to clean, we can't spend all day rummaging through people's stuff," she stated. I enjoyed trying on Julia's dresses, they made me feel beautiful, expensive, and dare I say bougie.

Julia is the daughter of a very well-known automative dealership owner. She's pretty, intelligent, kind, modest, respectable, really the whole package. She's a few years older than me and has always treated me like the younger sister she's never had.

Her father is a very strict Muslim and her mother is a non-practicing Christian. As a kid, she grew up celebrating all of the religious holidays, including Ramadan, Eid, Christmas, and Thanksgiving. Her parents let her decide how she wanted to live her life and what spiritual route she wanted to embark on. I make Duʿā ( a prayer of supplication/request) everyday that Allah guides her and her mother to the straight path.

Julia also has an older brother, Ameer. He's a doctor.....ehh nothing major. Last I heard, he was completing his internship somewhere abroad, maybe Italy, but he's on his way back to the states to start residency. I have never met him but I sure did hear a lot about him. He's Muslim but not really practicing. I've heard him being described as an arrogant entitled jerk that will stop at nothing to get what he wants, but his parents don't seem to agree. I don't know what to believe, but to be fair, parents always tend to upsell their children.

He'll be arriving tomorrow night, so my mother and I are cleaning his apartment from top to bottom to make it look pristine and brand new.  He lives in the  adjacent to that of his parents. He told his parents jokingly " as an eligible bachelor, it's only right that I have my own place." Julia told me that he doesn't really have any thoughts of settling down. He uses his busy work life as an excuse to not start his own family, plus he has major commitment issues. Anyway, enough talk abut him.

" Jameela!" my mom yelled for the third time.
" We're on a time crunch, I can't have you dozing off every few seconds, " she said.
" What are you thinking about so deeply anyway.... don't tell me your in love and ready to get married." She said as a huge smile spread across her face.

"No mom, why would I ever leave the comfort of my own home to the live with a complete stranger...that sounds like a complete and utter nightmare," I said.

" Grow up," my mom said. " Girls your age in Africa are married with at least three kids, and you  gag at the idea of marriage, how am I gonna get rid of you?" my mom said sarcastically ( I think).

" I heard that Ameer is coming back to town, maybe he'll take your fancy and finally get you off my hands," she said jokingly.

" I don't know about that, plus he isn't even looking to get married," I shot back. My mom and I continue to clean in silence until we heard keys rattling.

" Is somebody trying to open the door?" I asked. Before we knew it, somebody swung the door open. As a reflex, I reached for my hijab and hid behind the curtains because I was unable to put it on in time.

In comes walking a guy with luggage and a backpack. He was all decked out in Adidas (tracksuit, trainers, cap). He had dark short hair, a round chiseled symmetric face, hazel eyes, near perfect white teeth, and a slight dimple on the right side of his face. As you can tell, I took one long hard look. You know what they say, the first look is halal.

My mom was startled but was able to muster up some words. " Good morning sir, are you in the wrong room?" He looked a little confused.  

" I live here," he said. My mom immediately apologized. " Oh, Assalamu Alaykum. Sorry I didn't recognize you. I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow night?"

" Walaykum Assalam, I booked my flight a day early so I can get some rest and get settled down before things get a little hectic," he replied.

Oh okay, well welcome. We're almost done cleaning so we'll be out of your hair in a second," my mom said.

" No that's alright, I'm really jet lagged so I just want to get some shut eye before going to my parents," he said tiredly.

"Okay well let us know if you need anything," my mom said.

"Okay, thank you and I will," he said walking to his room with his things. I quickly ran out from behind the curtain with my hijab slipping from my head. As I was running towards the door I bumped into something hard. I looked up and there he stood, a few inches from my face. My heart suddenly started beating out of control. Without saying anything I ran out of the house feeling embarrassed that he caught me. As I was nearing the door, I heard a voice coming from behind me.

"Wait, you dropped something," he said. I was a little confused because I wasn't carrying anything. I looked back and I see my hijab on the floor.