Clueless Love

For the past week, I have been sending my passport back and forth to embassies. And If I don’t have all my visas ready by the end of the week, Ismail will have me served up on a silver platter for dinner. Ismail had to push back the trip to next week because of me. I feel bad, but there is nothing I can do about it except pray and hope to have all my visas by next week.

I am currently at a car workshop, getting my car back from repair. I am about to get into my vehicle when I get a call from Waheeda.

“As-salamu Alaykum,” I greet answering the call.

“Wa alaykumu as-salam. Where are you, sis?” Waheeda asks.

“I am fine, thank you for asking,” I return with sarcasm dripping from my voice.

“I don’t need to ask you that as I saw you this morning, so I know you are fine,” Waheeda says chuckling.

“What a lovely sister you are,” I say smiling.

“I know, I try my best. Anyway, I am calling to ask where you are,” Waheeda says.

“Why are you asking? But I am at the mechanics.”

“Can you please pick up some ingredients on your way home, and what are you doing there?”

“Send a list of the things you need, and I came to get my car. I had it fixed,” I say.

“Ya Allah! Girl, that car is nothing but trouble. You are spending more money on repairs then driving it.”

“I do that,” I sigh.

Please, next time don’t have it fixed again just get a new car.”

“Don’t worry, sis. I will get a new one soon,” I say thinking about the next car I should get.

“Better, and I have sent the list to you.”

“Alright, I will get you everything on my way home,” I tell her.

“Ma’ as-salama, (Goodbye) see you when you get home,” Waheeda says, hanging up.

I am parking my car in the garage, and notice Ismail is just getting home too.

“As salamu alaykum,” I say stepping out of my car.

“Wa alaykumu as-salam,” Ismail greets me.

“How was your day at work?” I ask, handing him some groceries to take inside.

“It was fine, but I see you got your car repaired! Didn’t you have it in for repairs not so long ago?” Ismail says shocked. “Why don’t you just get a new car.”

“I will soon, but I am waiting for the right time.”

“And when is the right time, miss?”

“When I know which one I want.” I tell him.

“I could help you pick one out if you want.”

“I don’t mind, and maybe next week we could have a look before we go on our trip.”

“Sure, anytime you like.”

“Thank you,” I say smiling.

“You’re welcome.” Ismail says walking out of the kitchen with me following, but we both stop walking when Waheeda calls us back.

“Wait!” she calls out entering the kitchen.

“Yes?” we both ask.

“I have something important to discuss with you both after dinner,” Waheeda says.

“Alright,” Ismail says

“Okay,” I reply.

After finishing dinner and our evening prayers we sit down in the living room. Ismail, Aazim and I are waiting for Waheeda to tell us what is so important…

“I have, or rather, we have called both of you here to tell you something,” Waheeda says taking Aazim’s hands in hers.

“You all know our wedding anniversary is coming up, so we decided to get away for a romantic holiday,” Aazim tells us.

“Masha’ Allah, that is wonderful. So where are you guys thinking of going?” I ask smiling at them.

“We are going to Spain,” Waheeda replies.

“Masha’ Allah, congrats to the both of you,” Ismail says.

“Thank you, but that’s not the only reason we wanted to speak with both of you,” Aazim says.

“We wanted to ask you guys to look after the kids while we are gone,” Waheeda says worried.

“Oh, I don’t have a problem with that,” I say.

“Neither do I,” Ismail says, “So, when do you guys plan to leave?”

“We leave tomorrow, but we will be back before you leave for your business trip,” Waheeda replies.

“Okay, I think we can handle that,” Ismail says looking at me for confirmation.

“Wow, Alhamdulillah (Praise be to Allah), that went easier than we thought,” Aazim says releasing a breath he was holding, while Ismail and I share a confused look. “We thought neither of you would agree because you guys can’t stand each other. And asking you to act as parents for a week seemed like something neither of you would have agreed to,” Aazim says.

“I will have you know that Ismail and I don’t fight like before. Do we Ismail?” I say smiling at him.

“She is right we get along really well these days,” Ismail confirms.

“Allahu Akbar, this is wonderful news. I am so happy you guys are getting along these days,” Aazim says, “It’s good to hear.”

“Yeah, and maybe working together, and living in the same house, helped you guys amend your ways with each other,” Waheeda says smiling.

I wonder if she is right and if living and working together has indeed made the difference.

“I guess we should leave you guys to pack then,” I say getting up from the couch.

“Yeah, I think we should,” Ismail says, getting up after me.

“See you later,” we say as we leave the living room.

The next morning, I woke up early, prayed, exercised, took a bath, and went downstairs to make breakfast. Waheeda usually makes breakfasts on Sundays, but I wanted to do something sweet for her before she leaves. I am wearing a black floral floor-length maxi crepe skirt and a black top with a green hajib, that matches the flowers on my skirt.

I am making spicy Irish potatoes with scrambled eggs. I am plating the last dish when Waheeda comes downstairs.

“Wow, you made breakfast.” Waheeda says smiling.

“Yeah, I wanted to do something nice for you before you left.” I smile back at her.

“Aww, I love you.” Waheeda says hugging me.

“I think I love you too,” I reply teasing. “How long will you guys be gone?”

“We will be back on Friday evening.”

“Okay.”

We finished breakfast an hour ago, and we are all on our way to the airport to drop Aazim and Waheeda off. We said our goodbyes but Aayan cried and did not want to let his mom go. I’ve had to remove him from my sister’s arms forcefully. He was crying so much he fell asleep. I hope when he wakes up he won’t cry again.

While driving home, I ask Ismail to make a stop at the ice cream shop to get some ice cream for Aayan.

We arrive at the ice cream shop and I carry Aayan on my shoulders while Ismail holds Eman’s hand. I take the children to a free booth while Ismail gets our orders.

“Here you are,” Ismail says handing out our ice creams.

“Thank you,” we all say in chorus.

“So how are we going to do this?” Ismail asks me.

“Okay, I already have us covered. I have made a schedule for us to follow so it will be easier for us this week,” I reply.

“I am thinking since its five days a week that they go to school, we will take turns in picking them up from school, but on Friday we will pick them up together to make it fair. Is that okay with you?” I say showing him my phone where I made the schedule.

“That’s fine with me. This is going to be an amazing week,” Ismail says while patting Eman’s hair.

“How long is mummy going to be gone?” Eman asks.

“She will be back next week dear,” Ismail says.

“Okay,” Eman says enjoying her ice cream.

“How do I look, auntie?” Aayan says with ice cream all over his face.

“Subhan Allah (Glory be to Allah)! Aayan wha-t-t ……” I laugh, not able to stay serious when his cute face is covered in ice cream.

“I need to take a picture before I clean you up,” I say smiling pulling out my phone.

“You should send it to mummy,” Eman grins.

“Yeah, I think you should too,” Ismail smiles.

“Done,” I say sending the picture to Waheeda.

“Waheeda loves the picture,” I tell them reading her reply, “Now let’s get you cleaned up.” I pick Aayan up and take him to the restroom with me.

“Auntie, what about my ice cream,” Aayan says.

“No one will touch it.”

“No one should have my ice cream,” Aayan says trying to sound and look serious, but not quite succeeding with his ice cream covered face.

“Yes sir!” the others say saluting him, making him smile. I am so happy he is smiling and not crying anymore.

After I have cleaned up Aayan in the restroom and we are sitting at our table again, a man walks up to us.

“Ismail is that you?” A guy with a thick British accent asks.

“Michael?” Ismail says standing up.

“Wow, how long has it been?” the guy, Michael, says putting out his hand for Ismail to shake.

“I think five years?” Ismail answers shaking his hand.

“Wow, so how have you been? I am guessing this is your family?” Michael says.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“No these are my sister-in-law and my brother’s children,” Ismail replies.

“Oh sorry, my mistake. But anyway, I am sure you are doing great,” Michael says.

“Alhamdulillah (Praise be to Allah), I am doing fine and how about you?” Ismail asks.

“I am good too, and I am here with my wife.”

“Congratulations, I am happy for you.”

“Thank you, and I would have loved to catch up with you, but my wife is already waiting in the car.”

“No, it’s fine, see you another time,” Ismail says.

“Yeah, bye, see you next time.” Michael says walking out of the store.

“I am guessing that is one of your friends from high school?” I ask after the guy leaves.

“Yes, we went to school together in London,” Ismail says sitting back down.

“Uncle why did you lie to him?” Eman asks.

“How did I lie to him, sweetie?” Ismail says confused as to what she is talking about.

“You lied to him about auntie not been your wife.”

“And why would you think that’s a lie?” I ask giggling.

“Because you guys are married.” Aayan replies.

“No dear, we are not married. What makes you think we are?” Ismail asks her.

“Because the other day mummy and daddy said you guys fight like an old married couple,” Eman states.

“Subhan Allah (Glory be to Allah)!” Ismail exclaims laughing.

“Do we fight that bad?” I ask, also laughing.

“I guess we do. But anyway love, just because they say someone fights like they are married does not mean they are,” Ismail explains to her, smiling.

“Oh, I never knew. I’m sorry for thinking like that,” Eman says.

“It’s okay dear,” I say smiling, “And Ismail, I think we could go and check out some cars on Wednesday.”

“No problem, I will check with my secretary and make time for it.”

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”