Chapter 18
Broken Not a halal love story Complete · about 16 min read
nce Ahmad and I crossed that no-touching, no-kissing boundary that
had existed for months, all prior restraint and logical thinking went
out of the window. It almost felt like we had been starving, and only now
did we find sustenance. It was the most natural thing in the world.
“Hello, beautiful,” he said one evening as I opened the door to my dorm
room. He had come to see me on his way home from the office and was
holding a paper bag with a gold-colored box filled with my favorite flavors
of macaroons – lavender-peach and burnt honey cheesecake. I held on to
the door, and as he walked in, he leaned towards me and gave me a tiny
unhurried kiss on my lips. The feeling that passed through me was almost
electric. Calm down, Fa’iza, I said to myself. It was only a peck, an
innocent one.
He went into my bathroom to perform ablution, and he prayed alone on
my maroon prayer mat in my room while I munched away in the
kitchenette, reading the names of the remaining flavors they had written in
cursive inside the box.
When he came out, his sleeves were rolled up, and few buttons of his
shirt were undone. He had come to stay for a while. He made himself at
home, refilling my white kettle and plugging its cord into the wall. His
dark-tailored pants and blue slim-fit shirt made him stand out in the small
student dormitory.
“I’m going to make us iced tea,” he said as he opened my cupboard and
got a box of David’s tea. He opened another and brought out two mugs.
“How was your day?” I leaned on the wall as I watched him.
“Same old,” he shrugged his broad shoulders. “I was counting down
hours, so I could come see you,” he smiled as he looked in my direction.
“Have you decided on how many families you want to start with?” he asked
as the kettle started whistling. We were looking at sizing and capacity for
the Shelter while brainstorming possible locations in Abuja. Ahmad has
been a considerable resource; he was always pointing me in the right
direction without taking over the project completely.
“Yeah, I checked. There are NGOs helping with cases I’m interested in.
I was thinking of a sort of partnership with them.”
“What kind of partnership?” he opened the freezer and brought out
some ice, dumped them in the cups and poured the tea over.
“Since they’re handling so many cases of abuse, I’ll ask that they refer
families – women and their babies – to the shelter for accommodation and
food,” his eyes burned into mine as I spoke. “And we’ll stand as their legal
reps and make sure the kids don’t miss school.”
“That’s fantastic, babe.” I caught his gaze as his eyes roamed down my
body and back to my face, “still doesn’t answer my question, though. At
full capacity, how many families do you want to be able to manage? That’s
going to determine the size of the shelter.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I had thought about that, but I was still on the
fence about whether I was going to do this alone or if I would have other
lawyers on my team. I opened the box of macaroons and I started making
my way into the room. “Rooms for about thirty families, to start with,” I
finally said. “Two double bunk-beds in each room, an inflatable mattress
can be provided if there are more than four people in a family.”
“Wi-Fi connectivity, storage space in each room…” he added as he sat
down on the carpet next to my open laptop. We watched movies on the
carpet when we hung out in my room.
“Dining area, kitchen area, common room, outdoor play areas for the
children, security…” I was getting more excited just thinking about the
possibility. I was going to start small, but I hoped to expand as time went
on. I took a sip of my iced tea and noticed Ahmad looking at me with dark
eyes. “What?” I asked him, sitting so close to him I could almost feel the
heat from his skin.
“I can’t get over how amazing you are,” he said quietly. “When we’re in
Nigeria, we can go through the possible site options for your shelter.”
I said nothing but pushed the box of macaroons towards him so it would
be in the middle and took another sip of my tea. He pressed play on my
laptop as I moved closer to him and got in our regular position. As we ate
macaroons and drank iced tea, the plan was to finish a movie we’d started
watching the previous night. We sat at the foot of my bed opposite my
closet, and he leaned back into the frame of my bed with my back leaning
into his chest. When the movie got boring, my mind wandered and I was
reminded of our proximity – the way his fingers trailed the arms of my
sweater and the goosebumps that flared on my skin as he traced invisible
shapes on my hips. Even though we were half-covered with a soft blanket
and I was wearing a sweater, the room still felt too cold. I shivered
involuntarily. When his feet found mine under the covers, it got harder to
breathe.
As the credits rolled, his hands slowly moved upwards to my shoulder. I
turned around to look at him, and he kissed me on the forehead. “I couldn’t
stop thinking about you all day,” he said quietly. It was almost a whisper.
My entire body ached with desire. But what did I even desire – a kiss? A
touch? Something more? I had no idea. I could still remember the taste of
his lips on mine and could not stop biting my lips as I looked at him.
He leaned in very close to me and didn’t stop until he was so close that
our noses were almost touching. He stayed there, waiting for me to get
impatient enough to close the distance between our lips. Lord. He waited
for me to take the lead and when I didn’t, he took over. All my thoughts on
abstinence dissolved as his lips went over mine. He kissed me so slowly
like we had all the time in the world. As I reached up for his chest, his arms
lifted me, and I found myself straddling him. One of his hands went to my
neck, pulling me closer to him, deepening our kiss. My hands went around
his neck, and I moaned a little. I felt his hands everywhere – on my back,
my thighs, and then under my sweater. His touch was slow and teasing. My
heart was pounding the whole time. Maybe it was from all the sugar in the
iced tea or from his intoxicating scent. Perhaps it was how gentle he was
with me as he caressed my back.
He suddenly broke the kiss. Disoriented, I opened my eyes to look at
him, and his had a fire within them. Without taking his gaze off mine, he
started unbuttoning my sweater – slowly and steadily – and pulled me back
into him, kissing me as he took it off me. Every part of my body felt like it
was on fire. His mouth was on my neck now. His hands held me tightly as I
arched into him. I felt his lips and tongue on my skin, our kisses no longer
unhurried. He pulled me closer into him and I felt the bulge in his trousers.
His lips started moving downwards, leaving a trail of kisses from my
collarbones to my chest and then the swell of my breasts. My breathing had
become erratic. I felt his hands on my back as he found the clasp of my
purple bra and unfastened it with a snap.
I froze. My hands went to my chest to stop the bra from falling off me,
covering me. He paused, raised his head and looked at me. His lips were
parted, and his breathing was rapid. He looked the exact way I felt, which
was to dizzying witness, as we were both exposed and vulnerable with deep
desire.
“Do you want us to stop?” he asked gently. I had never felt this way
before. I had never been kissed like this, never wanted to touch someone so
badly. I was going crazy, but deep down, I knew this was wrong. I nodded.
His eyes fell to my chest, and his hands went around my back as he
clasped my bra back on and slowly returned the straps to my shoulder.
Holding me with one arm, so that I was still straddling him, he pulled down
a pillow from my bed, and he leaned back until we were both lying down
on the blanket on the carpet. One of his hands went under his head, and the
other held my naked waist, caressing me gently. His eyes were closed like
he was lost in his thoughts.
“Are you okay?” I asked after I caught my breath. How can something
that felt so right be so wrong?
“I’ll be fine, babe. Are you?” I could sense the restraint in his voice.
“Aren’t we moving too fast?” I asked, my hands stroking his chest as I
felt his heartbeat under my palms.
“I promised you,” he said as his hands went around the dip of my waist
and flare of my hip. “I promise you, we’re not going to do anything you’re
not ready for, my love.” I looked at him, and all his flaws felt
inconsequential at that moment. His respect for me trumped everything
else. “I love you.”
Nine more months, I thought. With this much desire, I wondered how
much longer I could hold out after getting a taste of the pleasure that could
come with us being together. I could deny it as much as I wanted, but I was
slowly falling deeper into sin, and the scary thing was that I was not even
fighting it anymore.
* * *
Ahmad was back in the US for two weeks. Even though at any particular
time, I could tell you exactly what he was doing because we updated each
other on almost everything. He became my best friend whom I trusted with
my life. I told him the most mundane details about my day and he listened
like it was the most fascinating thing. I missed him but I was grateful for
the distance.
In the meantime, I had started reading more and more romantic stories
with explicit content. They seemed to make the time go faster. I also liked
being invested in other people’s love stories instead of mine.
It was Friday and I was in a study room with my study group. It was
almost the end of our session for that evening. Sara and Ada were in the
middle of an argument about APA-styled citations. It was an endless drone
in the background. The empty boxes of Thai we ordered for dinner laid on
the table surrounded by textbooks and notebooks. It was already dark
outside. As soon as we called it a night, I would walk back to the Rez, pray
and sleep. It had been a very long day with lectures and peer-review
meetings. I took a sip of coke through my straw, my phone beeped, and I
almost choked as I read the message: The things I wanna do to you…
“Are you okay?” Ada and Sara asked in unison, startled.
“Have some water,” Sara offered, pushing a bottle toward me.
I thumped my chest softly as I coughed, “I’m good, I’m good.” I felt the
need to over explain, “the drink was too cold and I rushed it.”
Ada raised her eyebrows, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m good,” I cleared my throat again and plastered on a smile on my
face, “are we done? I think I’m gonna get going.”
“Yeah,” Sara replied, scrolling through her phone. “My bus isn’t coming
for another 30 minutes, so I’ll go into the library to get some printing
done.”
“Okie dokie,” I said, as my phone beeped another notification, but I
knew better than to open it this time. I put my laptop in my bag and started
to put the empty food boxes in the recycle bin and Ada joined me, clearing
out the table. We said bye to Sara and Ada and I walked out together. When
she took a left to the bus stop, I took a right to the residence and brought out
my phone from my pocket to check the second message: I want to taste
every bit of you. Another one came in just then: I want to tease you until
you beg for me.
I looked around me, flustered, embarrassed, and surprisingly slightly
turned on. The automatic doors to the Residence entrance opened as I
approached them, and I hurried into the elevator. As I got to my floor, the
phone beeped again: I’m crazy about you, Fa’iza.
I walked into my room, threw my bag on my bed and read the messages
over and over again. I could hear his voice; he was miles away from me, but
it felt like he was whispering these words right into my ear. Another
message: Eight more months… then: and then I’m going to make love to
you slowly… and then another: then fuck you hard for making me wait so
long.
My jaw fell. Excuse me?! What was that? My hand went over my
mouth. That was so dirty and so raw… why was I so turned on? Am I into
this? Am I enjoying it?
I looked at my reflection in the mirror, watching the rapid rise and fall
of my chest, with my lips slightly parted. Yes, I was. I was definitely turned
on by a man who was thousands of miles away with nothing other than
words. No one should have this much power over another person.
Suddenly feeling brazen, I typed a message, read it over, and pressed
send: I think I wanna postpone the wedding. I regretted it immediately. My
first attempt at sexting, and that was the best I could come up with. It
sounded so lame. That was the driest thing anyone could possibly say. Why
didn’t they teach stuff like this in the romance novels I read?
My phone beeped again and the blood rushed to my ear as I read the
message: Bae, don’t play with me like that, then another: I would die. I
laughed as I read his messages. Another one came in: I wish you were here
right now.
I was actually enjoying this. With shaky fingers, I typed back: What
would you do if I was there? I could not keep still. I held my breath as I
waited for his reply. The wait was excruciating even though it was barely
seconds, but it was worth it: I’d tell you to undress yourself … while I
watched.
I read the message again. I wasn’t expecting that. In all the novels I’d
read, the man undressed the girl. Always. I could sense the authoritative
tone from the messages, and I was not even turned off or repulsed. I
pictured myself doing exactly what he described – undressing for him,
removing my robe, taking off my lingerie while his eyes followed the thin
material as it slid off my body and pooled at my feet. I knew the look I
would see in his eyes. I had seen it before. And I liked it.
Wait a minute. How did I get here? Ahmad, I’m gonna go pray Isha. I
sent the message and threw the phone on my table.
I went into the bathroom, turned on the faucet and splashed my face
with cold water. I need to delete those messages from my phone.
Ahmad came back from the States three days earlier than scheduled. It
was my birthday so I knew that he might. What I didn’t anticipate was the
surprise birthday dinner that was organized for me the previous evening.
The thought of it had me in a great mood the morning of my actual
birthday, a Monday.
“Happy birthday, beautiful,” I looked up to see him – the man I was
hopelessly in love with – and as usual, I could not stop the smile that had
formed on my face. He leaned on his car as he waited for me in the parking
lot just outside my lecture hall. He looked like he was going to be on the
cover of GQ magazine with his dark pants, checkered shirt and sunglasses.
I knew for a fact that he hadn’t gotten more than three hours of sleep
because he called me at midnight, wanting to be the first to wish me a
happy birthday and he was up at four that morning on some work-related
conference call with a team in another time zone. Yet, he looked just as
great as ever.
He held out his hand as I approached him, and I held it as he opened the
door for me. I got in, and he walked over to his side, got in and leaned in for
a kiss. It was gentle and slow.
I remembered the first time I perceived this cologne on him. It was
outside Terroni last spring, before our disastrous first date. All my scarves
were beginning to smell like him.
“You look great,” he said quietly when I pulled away from our kiss. His
hand reached for my neck and he fixed the collar of the pink blazer I wore
over blue jeans. It took me forever to decide what I would wear to class
today. I didn’t want to overdress because it was a morning lecture and
slacks were the unofficial uniforms for early morning classes. But it was my
birthday and I wanted to look good, so I dressed up a bit. I even wore heels.
“As I always do?” I asked as I took the coffee he had in the cupholder
for me. I took a sip and brought out my phone to reply to the few birthday
messages that had piled up since I’d last checked.
“Always,” he reversed out of the parking lot. Our eyes met, and he held
my gaze for a second longer than usual , “So, did you decide yet?” he
asked. We had been looking at townhomes for sale that were conveniently
between the University and the office he’d move into after the wedding. He
had his Realtor copy me on every email that had a link to properties that fit
the description we were looking for.
“I thought we would go through them together?”
“Of course we will, but does any of them stand out to you? You said
you wanted a backyard…”
“…and upper and lower-level balconies,” I completed.
“For your plants,” he remembered, even though we were both half
asleep when we spoke about our dream home. I wanted a home filled with
flowers and plants; I intended to be a plant mum, since we wouldn’t start
trying for a child till after my graduation. We were going to have two kids –
a boy and a girl insha Allah and we would move back to Nigeria after they
were born and only visit Canada in the summer. We had it all figured out.
“Bae, there’s something that needs my attention real quick back at the
office,” he held my hands and our fingers interlocked as he spoke. “Can we
stop there for a bit?”
“Of course,” I answered. On my left hand was an emerald cut halo ring
he had slipped on my engagement finger the evening before, after the
surprise dinner with Afreen, Zafar, Edet, Tumi, Sara and Ada.
H
had existed for months, all prior restraint and logical thinking went
out of the window. It almost felt like we had been starving, and only now
did we find sustenance. It was the most natural thing in the world.
“Hello, beautiful,” he said one evening as I opened the door to my dorm
room. He had come to see me on his way home from the office and was
holding a paper bag with a gold-colored box filled with my favorite flavors
of macaroons – lavender-peach and burnt honey cheesecake. I held on to
the door, and as he walked in, he leaned towards me and gave me a tiny
unhurried kiss on my lips. The feeling that passed through me was almost
electric. Calm down, Fa’iza, I said to myself. It was only a peck, an
innocent one.
He went into my bathroom to perform ablution, and he prayed alone on
my maroon prayer mat in my room while I munched away in the
kitchenette, reading the names of the remaining flavors they had written in
cursive inside the box.
When he came out, his sleeves were rolled up, and few buttons of his
shirt were undone. He had come to stay for a while. He made himself at
home, refilling my white kettle and plugging its cord into the wall. His
dark-tailored pants and blue slim-fit shirt made him stand out in the small
student dormitory.
“I’m going to make us iced tea,” he said as he opened my cupboard and
got a box of David’s tea. He opened another and brought out two mugs.
“How was your day?” I leaned on the wall as I watched him.
“Same old,” he shrugged his broad shoulders. “I was counting down
hours, so I could come see you,” he smiled as he looked in my direction.
“Have you decided on how many families you want to start with?” he asked
as the kettle started whistling. We were looking at sizing and capacity for
the Shelter while brainstorming possible locations in Abuja. Ahmad has
been a considerable resource; he was always pointing me in the right
direction without taking over the project completely.
“Yeah, I checked. There are NGOs helping with cases I’m interested in.
I was thinking of a sort of partnership with them.”
“What kind of partnership?” he opened the freezer and brought out
some ice, dumped them in the cups and poured the tea over.
“Since they’re handling so many cases of abuse, I’ll ask that they refer
families – women and their babies – to the shelter for accommodation and
food,” his eyes burned into mine as I spoke. “And we’ll stand as their legal
reps and make sure the kids don’t miss school.”
“That’s fantastic, babe.” I caught his gaze as his eyes roamed down my
body and back to my face, “still doesn’t answer my question, though. At
full capacity, how many families do you want to be able to manage? That’s
going to determine the size of the shelter.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I had thought about that, but I was still on the
fence about whether I was going to do this alone or if I would have other
lawyers on my team. I opened the box of macaroons and I started making
my way into the room. “Rooms for about thirty families, to start with,” I
finally said. “Two double bunk-beds in each room, an inflatable mattress
can be provided if there are more than four people in a family.”
“Wi-Fi connectivity, storage space in each room…” he added as he sat
down on the carpet next to my open laptop. We watched movies on the
carpet when we hung out in my room.
“Dining area, kitchen area, common room, outdoor play areas for the
children, security…” I was getting more excited just thinking about the
possibility. I was going to start small, but I hoped to expand as time went
on. I took a sip of my iced tea and noticed Ahmad looking at me with dark
eyes. “What?” I asked him, sitting so close to him I could almost feel the
heat from his skin.
“I can’t get over how amazing you are,” he said quietly. “When we’re in
Nigeria, we can go through the possible site options for your shelter.”
I said nothing but pushed the box of macaroons towards him so it would
be in the middle and took another sip of my tea. He pressed play on my
laptop as I moved closer to him and got in our regular position. As we ate
macaroons and drank iced tea, the plan was to finish a movie we’d started
watching the previous night. We sat at the foot of my bed opposite my
closet, and he leaned back into the frame of my bed with my back leaning
into his chest. When the movie got boring, my mind wandered and I was
reminded of our proximity – the way his fingers trailed the arms of my
sweater and the goosebumps that flared on my skin as he traced invisible
shapes on my hips. Even though we were half-covered with a soft blanket
and I was wearing a sweater, the room still felt too cold. I shivered
involuntarily. When his feet found mine under the covers, it got harder to
breathe.
As the credits rolled, his hands slowly moved upwards to my shoulder. I
turned around to look at him, and he kissed me on the forehead. “I couldn’t
stop thinking about you all day,” he said quietly. It was almost a whisper.
My entire body ached with desire. But what did I even desire – a kiss? A
touch? Something more? I had no idea. I could still remember the taste of
his lips on mine and could not stop biting my lips as I looked at him.
He leaned in very close to me and didn’t stop until he was so close that
our noses were almost touching. He stayed there, waiting for me to get
impatient enough to close the distance between our lips. Lord. He waited
for me to take the lead and when I didn’t, he took over. All my thoughts on
abstinence dissolved as his lips went over mine. He kissed me so slowly
like we had all the time in the world. As I reached up for his chest, his arms
lifted me, and I found myself straddling him. One of his hands went to my
neck, pulling me closer to him, deepening our kiss. My hands went around
his neck, and I moaned a little. I felt his hands everywhere – on my back,
my thighs, and then under my sweater. His touch was slow and teasing. My
heart was pounding the whole time. Maybe it was from all the sugar in the
iced tea or from his intoxicating scent. Perhaps it was how gentle he was
with me as he caressed my back.
He suddenly broke the kiss. Disoriented, I opened my eyes to look at
him, and his had a fire within them. Without taking his gaze off mine, he
started unbuttoning my sweater – slowly and steadily – and pulled me back
into him, kissing me as he took it off me. Every part of my body felt like it
was on fire. His mouth was on my neck now. His hands held me tightly as I
arched into him. I felt his lips and tongue on my skin, our kisses no longer
unhurried. He pulled me closer into him and I felt the bulge in his trousers.
His lips started moving downwards, leaving a trail of kisses from my
collarbones to my chest and then the swell of my breasts. My breathing had
become erratic. I felt his hands on my back as he found the clasp of my
purple bra and unfastened it with a snap.
I froze. My hands went to my chest to stop the bra from falling off me,
covering me. He paused, raised his head and looked at me. His lips were
parted, and his breathing was rapid. He looked the exact way I felt, which
was to dizzying witness, as we were both exposed and vulnerable with deep
desire.
“Do you want us to stop?” he asked gently. I had never felt this way
before. I had never been kissed like this, never wanted to touch someone so
badly. I was going crazy, but deep down, I knew this was wrong. I nodded.
His eyes fell to my chest, and his hands went around my back as he
clasped my bra back on and slowly returned the straps to my shoulder.
Holding me with one arm, so that I was still straddling him, he pulled down
a pillow from my bed, and he leaned back until we were both lying down
on the blanket on the carpet. One of his hands went under his head, and the
other held my naked waist, caressing me gently. His eyes were closed like
he was lost in his thoughts.
“Are you okay?” I asked after I caught my breath. How can something
that felt so right be so wrong?
“I’ll be fine, babe. Are you?” I could sense the restraint in his voice.
“Aren’t we moving too fast?” I asked, my hands stroking his chest as I
felt his heartbeat under my palms.
“I promised you,” he said as his hands went around the dip of my waist
and flare of my hip. “I promise you, we’re not going to do anything you’re
not ready for, my love.” I looked at him, and all his flaws felt
inconsequential at that moment. His respect for me trumped everything
else. “I love you.”
Nine more months, I thought. With this much desire, I wondered how
much longer I could hold out after getting a taste of the pleasure that could
come with us being together. I could deny it as much as I wanted, but I was
slowly falling deeper into sin, and the scary thing was that I was not even
fighting it anymore.
* * *
Ahmad was back in the US for two weeks. Even though at any particular
time, I could tell you exactly what he was doing because we updated each
other on almost everything. He became my best friend whom I trusted with
my life. I told him the most mundane details about my day and he listened
like it was the most fascinating thing. I missed him but I was grateful for
the distance.
In the meantime, I had started reading more and more romantic stories
with explicit content. They seemed to make the time go faster. I also liked
being invested in other people’s love stories instead of mine.
It was Friday and I was in a study room with my study group. It was
almost the end of our session for that evening. Sara and Ada were in the
middle of an argument about APA-styled citations. It was an endless drone
in the background. The empty boxes of Thai we ordered for dinner laid on
the table surrounded by textbooks and notebooks. It was already dark
outside. As soon as we called it a night, I would walk back to the Rez, pray
and sleep. It had been a very long day with lectures and peer-review
meetings. I took a sip of coke through my straw, my phone beeped, and I
almost choked as I read the message: The things I wanna do to you…
“Are you okay?” Ada and Sara asked in unison, startled.
“Have some water,” Sara offered, pushing a bottle toward me.
I thumped my chest softly as I coughed, “I’m good, I’m good.” I felt the
need to over explain, “the drink was too cold and I rushed it.”
Ada raised her eyebrows, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m good,” I cleared my throat again and plastered on a smile on my
face, “are we done? I think I’m gonna get going.”
“Yeah,” Sara replied, scrolling through her phone. “My bus isn’t coming
for another 30 minutes, so I’ll go into the library to get some printing
done.”
“Okie dokie,” I said, as my phone beeped another notification, but I
knew better than to open it this time. I put my laptop in my bag and started
to put the empty food boxes in the recycle bin and Ada joined me, clearing
out the table. We said bye to Sara and Ada and I walked out together. When
she took a left to the bus stop, I took a right to the residence and brought out
my phone from my pocket to check the second message: I want to taste
every bit of you. Another one came in just then: I want to tease you until
you beg for me.
I looked around me, flustered, embarrassed, and surprisingly slightly
turned on. The automatic doors to the Residence entrance opened as I
approached them, and I hurried into the elevator. As I got to my floor, the
phone beeped again: I’m crazy about you, Fa’iza.
I walked into my room, threw my bag on my bed and read the messages
over and over again. I could hear his voice; he was miles away from me, but
it felt like he was whispering these words right into my ear. Another
message: Eight more months… then: and then I’m going to make love to
you slowly… and then another: then fuck you hard for making me wait so
long.
My jaw fell. Excuse me?! What was that? My hand went over my
mouth. That was so dirty and so raw… why was I so turned on? Am I into
this? Am I enjoying it?
I looked at my reflection in the mirror, watching the rapid rise and fall
of my chest, with my lips slightly parted. Yes, I was. I was definitely turned
on by a man who was thousands of miles away with nothing other than
words. No one should have this much power over another person.
Suddenly feeling brazen, I typed a message, read it over, and pressed
send: I think I wanna postpone the wedding. I regretted it immediately. My
first attempt at sexting, and that was the best I could come up with. It
sounded so lame. That was the driest thing anyone could possibly say. Why
didn’t they teach stuff like this in the romance novels I read?
My phone beeped again and the blood rushed to my ear as I read the
message: Bae, don’t play with me like that, then another: I would die. I
laughed as I read his messages. Another one came in: I wish you were here
right now.
I was actually enjoying this. With shaky fingers, I typed back: What
would you do if I was there? I could not keep still. I held my breath as I
waited for his reply. The wait was excruciating even though it was barely
seconds, but it was worth it: I’d tell you to undress yourself … while I
watched.
I read the message again. I wasn’t expecting that. In all the novels I’d
read, the man undressed the girl. Always. I could sense the authoritative
tone from the messages, and I was not even turned off or repulsed. I
pictured myself doing exactly what he described – undressing for him,
removing my robe, taking off my lingerie while his eyes followed the thin
material as it slid off my body and pooled at my feet. I knew the look I
would see in his eyes. I had seen it before. And I liked it.
Wait a minute. How did I get here? Ahmad, I’m gonna go pray Isha. I
sent the message and threw the phone on my table.
I went into the bathroom, turned on the faucet and splashed my face
with cold water. I need to delete those messages from my phone.
Ahmad came back from the States three days earlier than scheduled. It
was my birthday so I knew that he might. What I didn’t anticipate was the
surprise birthday dinner that was organized for me the previous evening.
The thought of it had me in a great mood the morning of my actual
birthday, a Monday.
“Happy birthday, beautiful,” I looked up to see him – the man I was
hopelessly in love with – and as usual, I could not stop the smile that had
formed on my face. He leaned on his car as he waited for me in the parking
lot just outside my lecture hall. He looked like he was going to be on the
cover of GQ magazine with his dark pants, checkered shirt and sunglasses.
I knew for a fact that he hadn’t gotten more than three hours of sleep
because he called me at midnight, wanting to be the first to wish me a
happy birthday and he was up at four that morning on some work-related
conference call with a team in another time zone. Yet, he looked just as
great as ever.
He held out his hand as I approached him, and I held it as he opened the
door for me. I got in, and he walked over to his side, got in and leaned in for
a kiss. It was gentle and slow.
I remembered the first time I perceived this cologne on him. It was
outside Terroni last spring, before our disastrous first date. All my scarves
were beginning to smell like him.
“You look great,” he said quietly when I pulled away from our kiss. His
hand reached for my neck and he fixed the collar of the pink blazer I wore
over blue jeans. It took me forever to decide what I would wear to class
today. I didn’t want to overdress because it was a morning lecture and
slacks were the unofficial uniforms for early morning classes. But it was my
birthday and I wanted to look good, so I dressed up a bit. I even wore heels.
“As I always do?” I asked as I took the coffee he had in the cupholder
for me. I took a sip and brought out my phone to reply to the few birthday
messages that had piled up since I’d last checked.
“Always,” he reversed out of the parking lot. Our eyes met, and he held
my gaze for a second longer than usual , “So, did you decide yet?” he
asked. We had been looking at townhomes for sale that were conveniently
between the University and the office he’d move into after the wedding. He
had his Realtor copy me on every email that had a link to properties that fit
the description we were looking for.
“I thought we would go through them together?”
“Of course we will, but does any of them stand out to you? You said
you wanted a backyard…”
“…and upper and lower-level balconies,” I completed.
“For your plants,” he remembered, even though we were both half
asleep when we spoke about our dream home. I wanted a home filled with
flowers and plants; I intended to be a plant mum, since we wouldn’t start
trying for a child till after my graduation. We were going to have two kids –
a boy and a girl insha Allah and we would move back to Nigeria after they
were born and only visit Canada in the summer. We had it all figured out.
“Bae, there’s something that needs my attention real quick back at the
office,” he held my hands and our fingers interlocked as he spoke. “Can we
stop there for a bit?”
“Of course,” I answered. On my left hand was an emerald cut halo ring
he had slipped on my engagement finger the evening before, after the
surprise dinner with Afreen, Zafar, Edet, Tumi, Sara and Ada.
H