Clueless Love

I am leaving after a long day at work. I have been so busy that I have not had time to speak with Emma. I am on my way to her house now. I take the elevator down to the ground floor and go outside to wait for a taxi, as my car is still playing up and I took it to the garage to have it looked at. I find a taxi and give the driver the address to her home while I try not fall asleep, as I’m exhausted.

I arrive at her house and I pay the taxi driver. I walk up to her door and ring the bell. It rings three times before she opens the door.

“Hi, I was starting to think you were not coming,” she says opening the door to me.

“Sorry, I was so caught up in work. That’s why I am late,” I say, entering her home.Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

Emma’s house is beautiful. The living-room walls are grey, there is a grey couch, two white armchairs, a glass coffee table and a staircase leading up to the bedrooms. I walk in and take a seat on the couch.

“I heard about your interviews. I hope you get all your visas,” she says, walking to the kitchen.

“I pray so too,” I reply getting comfortable on the couch, trying my best not to fall asleep.

“You said you had something important to talk to me about,” she says handing me a glass of juice.

“Thank you and yes I do,” I take the glass from her. “I had a visit from Austin, today,” I say taking a sip of my drink before continuing.

“I know what goes on between you two is not my business, but please, all I am asking is for you to answer his calls,” I plead with her.

“Why are you asking me to do that? What did he tell you?”

“He did not tell me anything. But the way he looked, Emma, was not good. I have known Austin for years now, and I have never seen him look so miserable, and that’s why I felt it was serious and agreed to talk to you.”

“Does he look that bad?” she asks concerned.

“Yes, he does. Maybe you should talk to him and find out what is going on?”

“I should, but I am scared,” she says picking up her phone then dropping it.

“Why are you scared?” I ask perplexed.

“I think he wants us to get back together,” she says looking nervous.

“Oh, do you want that or not?” I am guessing Emma still has feelings for Austin.

“That’s the thing. I don’t know because he really hurt me,” she answers tearing up.

“Do you love him?” I ask, knowing she does with one look at her face.

“Yes, I do. And that’s what makes it hurt more. I am so confused, and I don’t know what to do,” she cries.

I hug her to console her and tell her only she can decide what to do or not to do. I can only tell her to follow her heart and to make sure that whatever she chooses to do makes her happy.

“Thank you so much,” she says getting up from the couch. “I will go and call him now.”

“You are welcome, and you should do that. And would you mind making me something to eat while I pray, please,” I ask smiling while walking to her guest bathroom to perform Wudu (Ablution).

“I will,” she says, chuckling from the kitchen.

I can’t believe I have been caught in the middle of other people’s relationships. I hope they both make the right choices and forgive each other, whether they get back together or not. I believe everyone deserves a second chance but that does not mean I think someone should be fooled or played. There is no limit to forgiveness, but there is a limit to how much someone can accept. I believe you can forgive the person no matter the sin. I feel we all need to move on with our lives and forgive instead of holding grudges against one another. Even though that does not justify some people’s behavior, we are in no place to judge anyone.

After I finish performing my prayers, I decide to lie down for a bit but end up falling asleep. When I open my eyes, I see Ismail in front of me.

“Ismail, what are you doing here?” I ask rubbing my eyes, wanting to be sure I am seeing right.

“I’m here to take you home, my dear wife,” he says grinning.

“I am not your wife, and where is Emma?” I ask getting up from the couch to look for her.

“She is in the kitchen,” he says taking a seat on the couch.

Walking into the kitchen I call Emma. She is on the phone, so I wait for her to end her conversation.

“Yes, Umit,” she says after ending the call.

“Why is Ismail in your living room telling me he wants to take me home?”

“I called him.”

“You called him?” I ask confused as to why she would do that.

“When I brought your food in, I found you sleeping. I knew how tired you were, so I called Fatima first to come and pick you up, but she was not answering. So, I called the next number on your phone which was Ismail’s, and he agreed to come and pick you up.”

“You could have called a taxi for me.” I say wondering why she did not do that.

“I could not send you home in a taxi in the state you are in, right now.”

“You make it sound like I am drunk, not tired,” I laugh.

“I know you are not, but it gives me more peace knowing you are going home with someone I know, rather than a stranger,” she answers seriously.

“I can understand and thank you,” I smile.

“You are welcome,” she says smiling back.

We walk back into the living room to find Ismail already holding my handbag waiting for me at the doorstep. I hug Emma goodbye before picking up my phone to join Ismail. I step out and get into Ismail’s burnt orange chrome Camaro ZL1.

“Thank you for picking me up,” I say while we are driving home.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he says smiling.

“Alright, wake me up when we get home,” I say getting comfortable in the seat.

“Wait, have you eaten?” he asks looking concerned.

“No, why?”

“I will stop to get you something on our way home.”

“Thank you,” I say smiling, but I am surprised he cares about me. Maybe there is another side to Ismail, and there is more to him than I know.

We grab some food from McDonald’s on our way home. I don’t wait to be told to dig in.

“Wow, I did not know you were this hungry,” Ismail says.

“Neither did I,” I answer around a mouth full of food.

“So how are the interviews going so far?”

“They are good, and In Shaa Allah, by next week we will know if I got the visas.”

“I pray so, because we are meant to travel next week on Friday.”

“Oh, so soon.”

“Yeah”

When we arrive home, I go straight upstairs to say my prayers and go to sleep. I just finished observing my Isha prayers, but I have not moved from my praying mat. I am so tired I almost fall asleep when a knock on my door wakes me up. Too tired to open the door I ask the person to come in, and to my utmost surprise Ismail walks in.

“As-salamu Alaykum,” he greets entering my room.

“Wa alaykumu as-salam.”

“I came to check if you have prayed and gotten in bed.”

“I have finished praying. I just have to get up and into bed,” I say getting up from my praying mat.

“Alright, that’s good. I will leave you to get to bed. Good night,” he says walking out.

“Good night.” I say, getting into bed. I can’t believe Ismail checked up on me. I know I am his sister-in-law and even though these days we seem to be getting along well, it still feels weird, but not in a bad way. ?