“I didn’t have lots of experience, but I did know how to navigate guys and relationships more than you, I guess.” She opens up her arms as much as the confines of the closet allow. “Hug? Along with a promise I’ll help you with this?”
I succumb, and as she envelops me, her shoulders start shaking.
She’s laughing. Again.
“So sorry, Janna! It’s just that I can’t forget the way you leaned over and said that to me so gravely. I’m the girl Nuah thinks is hard to get. You’re so cute, I love it.”
I let go of her. Telling her had not been my best idea. “Can you stop? It’s so easy for you to laugh when these things are simple for you. I’ve never been in a romantic relationship. With anyone, in any way.”
“Janna, it’s never simple. No relationship is. It’s a back-and-forth dance where sometimes you give more, sometimes you take,” she says, her face turning serious.
“Well, I wouldn’t know.” All I know is that I’m comfortable with Nuah. “Like, I get why in Islam it’s the way it is. No dating and stuff. But—”
“What do you mean? Technically, a date is a time you make to meet someone to get to know them, to assess whether they’re right for you. It’s not about sex, you know.”
“I mean the sort of date where you’re with someone and there’s expectations.”
“Yeah, that’s why rules exist in Islam. Like don’t be completely alone, in case the expectations trap you in something you don’t want. As far as I’m concerned, it’s just like old-fashioned courting.”
“Ugh, like how you and Muhammad had me around when you guys met to get to know each other more.” I wrinkle my nose. “I hated chaperoning you guys.”
“We knew. But you did such a good job, and now here we are getting married.” She smiles. “And here you are asking for my help with your boo. See, I’m paying it back.”
I roll my eyes. But I guess it must have been gravely, because Sarah starts laughing again.
“Oh. My. God. STOP,” I command.
“No, now I’m laughing about something else. It’s because Muhammad was so right about you two, JY and NA. You know what I’m figuring out more and more? That he’s often right. Even though he acts all over-the-top sometimes, or most of the time, he’s actually very on the mark about stuff. He’s really intuitive.”
“Okay, now that’s really funny.” I burst out with an expertly faked peal of laughter.
There’s a clamor heading to the supplies closet, and then the door swings open to reveal Dawud dressed in knight gear from the laddoos’ toy box. “Hey! What are you guys doing in here? It’s time for The Princess Bride. Haytham said there are a lot of sword fights in it, so you better get your gear on!”
Before I head out with a sigh, Sarah stops me. “You know, Nuah is, like, the best, right? He’s got the sweetest heart, and he’s going to be so good to you, insha’Allah.”
I nod, happily this time. And she hugs me for real when we get out of the bleachy closet.
* * *
The road ahead of us is winding and dark with no streetlights, and suddenly I’m glad Sarah intervened on me driving back alone. I’d have turned back to town if I’d had to come home solo.
Khadija is beside me, her seat pulled all the way back, her legs spread wide, her seat belt pulled slack with the positioning of one of Sarah’s pillows just so. She’s looking out the window, trying to tap her fingers to Haytham’s voice that came on when I turned the ignition.
When I was young, on the Fourth of July, I’d go outside and watch the show in the sky.
“Mournful. This is mournful,” Khadija announces, after her fingers give up trying to find a quick beat.
“This is Haytham’s entry for the Muslim Voice,” Sarah says from the back. “They announce the winner on Sunday.”
“Why such a sad song?” Khadija pulls the seat belt even more and twists herself to look at Sarah. “About a girl dying?”
“It allows for his range, according to him.”
“Well, let’s change it. Permission to?” Khadija directs this at me, and I nod, even though I want to listen to Haytham singing about feeling depressed while watching fireworks. But Khadija looks like she’s not having it as her hands are already on the dial. “I want something more fun. This is wedding weekend, woo!”
She turns the dial but is stopped by Sarah reaching a hand out. “Forget the music for a sec?”
I look in the rearview so I can see her, gauge what she’s up to.
She winks at me when she catches my eye. My fingers immediately grip the steering wheel tighter, and I have to tell myself to breathe.
Sarah, who’s pulled her seat belt loose, moves to stick her head between our seats up front. “Dish on this girl Nuah likes. Janna and I have been observing him for a couple of years now, and he’s never shown his hand in that area. We’re intrigued.”
I’m shocked at her bluntness. Is my face on fire right now?
Sarah taps me lightly on the sleeve. “Right, Janna? Remember when that love-and-romance Q-and-A thing happened at the mosque and your uncle talked about late bloomers, and Muhammad said Nuah was one?”
I nod, my face burning, and then say feebly, “Yeah.”
Maybe she’s trying to draw me in so I look like I don’t care in that way. I shrug and say it again, stronger this time. “Yeah!”
Sarah coughs, looks me in the rearview with eyes wide, shakes her head, and mouths too much. Then she turns to Khadija again. “So?”
“I told you guys. We only talked about it for literally five minutes before we got here.” Khadija reaches for the radio dial again. “He told me there’s this girl he’s interested in. He thinks she might be into him, but he’s not sure.”
“And? Did he say anything else about her?” Sarah encourages.
“That she’s super nerdy but also super fun. Like, she organizes all sorts of outings—some he’s gone on.”
I stare at the road ahead. Organizes outings?
That sounds like a person like Sarah. Not me.
But wait, I did do that fundraising thing last summer to bring water to five in-need villages around the world. A group of us went to offer water-saving car washes at the mall. Technically, I didn’t organize it—it was Sarah—but I was sort of second-in-command. After Muhammad, I mean. But Muhammad and Sarah are one, so yeah, I was in charge. I organized it. And Nuah came to it.
“She’s into books. He said she’s read more than him. And that he can’t keep up with all the books she talks about.”
I smile. Sometimes I snap pics of my books to Nuah. And, if he has no idea about one of the titles, like Far from the Madding Crowd, he’ll send me a scratching-head GIF.
“So he decided he’s going to go hang out at the library she works in part-time and get suggestions.”
What?
I don’t work at the library.
Wait.
I do. At the mosque library. An hour every week shelving.
And yeah, Nuah has come there sometimes to read when I’ve been there. Once or twice.
I look at Sarah in the rearview and smile. But she’s got a slight frown.