It's Not That Bad (Part 3)

That it was too hard. I never once thought about whether or not I felt that I was his. Perhaps because regardless of whether or not I feel like I'm his or felt like I was at any point, I don't want to belong to Badr…to anyone. I thought of all this while he gazed upon me with glistening brown eyies reflecting the moonlight and exuding the patience he has always been so renowned for. I then thought that it would be rather lonely to go my entire life alone because I feared (?) what it meant to belong to someone and acknowledge it. I then realized that despite my resolution to resent Badr, he still occupied the back of mind, taking up space and making it belong to him. Would it not be more pleasant to accept the things that I cannot change? Would God grant me the serenity to do so? The wisdom to know the difference between what I cannot change and what I do not have the courage to make a change to? It all became too much to process there in front of him. I began to cry. Like some sad, scared child. Out of control and commandeered by frustration, I pushed him. I pushed him with all my might and he didn't move an inch. In fact, he looked down at me with happiness in his eyes and as though he knew something I did not. Then, he held me. He wrapped his arms around me, pressed my head to his chest, and rocked me. Like some sad, scared child. 

“Yes, I feel like I'm yours.” I whimpered. 

Using his pointer, he tilted my chin up to face him. Using the pad of his thumb, he wiped the tears from my eyes. Using the two fingers together, he held my face still while he leaned down to kiss me. Unfortunately, the moment was cut short. 

“ Keep it halal.” Hamza Uncle bellowed from across the garden. “Your mother sent me out looking for you two. She thinks I ‘stirred the pot’ too much.” 

Badr and I both had forgotten about the party we’d fled from. Embarrassed by the indecency of my position, I began to untangle myself from Badr. Hamza Uncle was rather humored by the sight of me. Badr didn’t seem embarrassed at all, he actually looked rather annoyed. 

“I’m 30 years old, I don’t give a shit who sees us.” Badr replied sternly once Hamza Uncle was next to us. 

“You’re 30 years old and I had to save your relationship for you, boy. 3 years since I talked to you about this and still I had to intervene.” 

Badr frowned. “I would have done it at the right time.” 

I found them having an entire conversation as though I wasn’t there to be pretty rude, so I interjected. “Pardon me?” 

I suppose they didn’t hear me. 

“You would have? Before or after Abdalla called her father? Was the ‘right time’ going to happen before Monday when he made arrangements to have lunch with her father?” 

“Abdalla?” Badr scoffed before suddenly becoming insecure, then he turned to me and whispered “are you seeing Abdalla?” 

“No! I’ve only ever seen him in group settings. I see him a lot and I think he likes me, but I didn't know he was speaking to my father!” Suddenly, I realized that Abdalla was so obsessed with me that he was going to call my father. I turned to Hamza Uncle and very coyly said “Abdalla was speaking to my father?”

Hamza Uncle stared into Badr’s eyes and nodded. I became very excited and overwhelmed, perhaps even giddy at all of this new information. After years of being single, a proposal was on the way and Hamza Uncle knew, but then…chose Badr to be my dance partner to “save [Badr’s] relationship” with who? With me. I frowned realizing something that filled my veins with hot rage and made my heart feel like concrete. I turned to Badr and in one of the fits of rage I'd so desperately worked on controlling, I shoved  him. “You've wanted to get back together this entire time and you misled me to believe you hated me! You charlatan! You've made a fool of me!” I screamed. 

Badr swatted me away and disgruntled by my name calling, took on a condescending tone. “I didn't want to get back together the whole time. I wanted you to grow the fuck up so you wouldn't be so difficult to out up with. If I wanted to be with you, I would have been with you.” 

If my skin weren't so brown, it would have turned red, but it is very brown, so it just felt hot from embarrassment. Badr must have felt bad about the way he’d phrased things because he dropped his snideness, took my hand, and pulled me to him the moment he saw the look on my face. 

“I've told you both- only say nice things to each other.” Hamza Uncle chuckled. “You two can really hurt each other's feelings. It's very toxic.”

We both cringed at Hamza’s use of the word “toxic”. Hamza looked down bashfully, perhaps wondering if he’d used the right term in one of his attempts to “connect with Muslim youth”. 

“What I’m saying is that both of you spoke to me after you ugh…stopped seeing each other and what I saw is two people that cared so much that they couldn't manage it. Yes, Abdalla wanted to get to know you in a halal way. Yes, I should have let that happen because I want everyone in this community to go about things the halal way. But I couldn't do that to Abdalla. He deserves better than a girl who’s in love with her ex and the ex in question blowing up his wedding because he waited too long to make a phone call. So, I meddled a bit”

I wasn't sure what to do with myself after Hamza’s slightly rude analysis of Badr and me. Badr, ever the nemesis of social discomfort, decided it was time to leave. 

“Let’s go home” he exasperated. 

I frowned and squeezed his arm. We couldn't just go home. For several reasons! My purse was at the table, so we would have to walk through the ballroom to leave and it would frankly strike up more gossip if we rushed back in there and left than if we were to stay. He had driven his mother! What would he have done? Just left her there? Certainly someone would take her home, but stranding your potential mother in law is no way to begin a relationship for the 5th time. We hadn't yet had dessert! 

“Badr, we can't just ditch. It's rude and I've already caused a commotion. I don't want to do it again.” I explained. 

Hamza nodded with a knowing look in his eyes. I took a deep breath and tried to calm my nerves. Then, we all walked back to the ballroom. Badr was oddly silent as we walked, as though he were deep in thought. I suppose we’d both been given much to think about. As we got closer to the ballroom, I remembered I'd been pinned to a tree and felt up. Suddenly self conscious, I tried to touch up my hair and face. Just a few feet from the door and with me having no clue if my preening was working Badr leaned over and said.

“You're beautiful. Stop obsessing”

Then, surprising me, he took my hand in his, opened the door, allowed me in, and smiled at everyone staring.