Disaster's Aid

Mama's worried about me.

Aunty Yasmina thinks I'm in love.

Mimi Aunty is convincing everyone the wedding should happen right away.

And I've been placed across from Tariq after washing my face clean for ten minutes.

"I'll never understand women." Abou says from the dining room.

"Don't worry Uncle you have Aunty taking care of you." Jamil, Aunty Yasmina's youngest retorts.

"True it is son, she knows everything somehow." Abou booms with laughter as a chair slides back.

Their voices echo into the open lounge and I stare the perfect floor to a gleam.

"Are you enjoying your stay in Paksitan, Sara?" Tariq's deep voice sounds like a business preposition.

The invitation to reply with a "yes" or a "no".

Everyone quiets from the other room. It's rather uncommon for girls and boys to be talking openly without their families, especially here, in this Muslim nation. So I'm stuck in this open room beside them and I have to answer him, I have to try to appear neutral until I can get away so I don't affect him. So the corruption doesn't reach him. So everyone here doesn't become disease ridden and die inside as well.

"It's nice." I breathe.

My eyes - my previous weapon of choice - slip from my shoes to his. If I meet his eyes he'll be done for. All the light will be lost. All this pressure I'm feeling will combust and take me hostage. All the warnings, something inside me is sending me, they are linked to a punishment worse than death. I feel something is alerting me and I don't know why. I don't understand. The heat and pressure in my head is becoming too heavy.

"You can talk openly, I know it's quite humid here. Not quite like home, yeah?" Tariq must have smiled at this point, I could sense him lean back and glance at the dining room where our families listen in.

"Tariq." I sigh.

"Yes?" He leans forward.

"I can't talk openly."

Mimi Aunty is lounging at the end of the room with a novel in her hand, her eyes on us. A chaperon that neither of us would feel awkward about. A woman and his biological aunt. We've all heard the horror stories of boys that go to meet girls and their family leaves them alone to chat to get to know each other before they say yes to marriage. But then, they are compelled to marry because they left them alone. They were too open. When you leave a girl and a guy together the third in company is the devil after all.

But right here, the devil is right in front of Tariq and it just isn't right.

I feel a soft poke in my palm. I look at the paper.

Is someone forcing you to be here?

I nod.

Tariq stands and leaves the room. I look to his empty seat and he returns. I glance at his face. Awestruck, I flick my gaze down.

He places a box at my feet and leans forward.

"Even though you don't want to be here, for our families sake, we should try to get along." Tariq whispers. "It's been seven years since they wanted for us to meet, maybe Allah has made us soul mates?"

"Soul mates? Us?"

Tariq smiles and he nudges the box towards me. "Allah is the best of planners."

A rush of warmth enters my heart. Maybe this could work?

"Maybe." A small smile cracks across my lips.

"I'll see you on Saturday next time then. Mimi Khala doesn't like when people hide secrets in the same room as her. It isn't polite, but I want to make sure you're okay."

"Okay." Tariq stands.

I bolt up. Almost reaching for his arm. Then I remember that it's haram to touch non-relatives before you marry them so he'll be horrified. I grab a fistful of my dress and look to his bright face. His eyes twinkle with his chuckle.

"Uhh, Tariq. Thanks for everything."

Tariq grins.

"You're welcome Sara. Assalamualaikum then."

"Walaikumalaisalam." I breathe. My knees are wobbling and I plop into the stuffed chair.

Maybe he'll change me? Maybe I'm not evil? Maybe we can be happy? Maybe we really really are soul mates.