Tuesday, 13 April 2021 / 1 Ramadan
‘Mum, when did you know dad was the one for you?’ I ask.
‘Yesterday afternoon,’ she replies. ‘When he forgave that man. Then I really knew.’
‘I meant… growing up… when…’
‘I just knew I was always destined to be with him. So… so I don’t know really. When I was little… yes, he was the one for me. My everything. But when I was a teenager… I don’t know. Those were such awful times. Sometimes I wonder why… how… I kept hope alive. Did I make a choice then? Did I pursue all this? Or did I just consider it my destiny? I don’t know really. It’s been hard, this life of ours. So when did I really know? Yes, it was yesterday. I’m serious. That’s when I truly saw the man I married. Yes, now I know he’s the one.’
I look at mum thoughtfully. ‘That’s all a bit heavy,’ I say.
‘What did you want? A funny one-liner?’
‘I hoped it would be simpler than that.’
‘What, in our life?’
‘I hoped you’d say there was a sign. Or a fuzzy feeling inside.’
‘There were signs. Plenty of them too.’
‘It’s just… I want to tell you something, mum… I’m just worried how you’re going to react.’
‘More revelations about dad?’ she asks.
‘Please, mum, the world doesn’t revolve only around you two. I want to tell you about my life. I want to tell you something about me.’ I look at her intently. ‘Can I?’ I ask. Mum doesn’t respond, but she looks kind of embarrassed. ‘I’m asking because… because there’s this girl at college… I like her… and… and I think she might be the one.’
Mum looks at me seriously.
‘You have a girlfriend, Ibby?’ she asks me. ‘You’ve never mentioned her.’
‘I don’t have a girlfriend,’ I say. ‘I just have an admirer.’
Hearing me, mum’s serious face folds into a smile. Now she’s laughing at me like all those stupid giggling girls. ‘Ah, Ibby, you’re the subject of a teenage crush! How cute.’
‘Don’t mock me, mum.’
‘I’m not mocking you. Just teasing.’
‘Same difference. But I’m serious. I think she could be the one. The one I’m destined to marry.’
‘You’re too young to think about that.’
‘Says you who married your childhood sweetheart. How old were you when you chased after him? How old were you when all those jealousies tore you apart? Younger than I am now.’
‘I don’t recommend you follow in my footsteps, Ibby. Better you focus on your studies, get a good degree. Then you can start thinking about all that stuff. We were too young. Emotionally immature. We never realised how dark and sinister fairy tale stories really are until we tried write our own. I’m not saying I don’t love your dad. I’m just saying it was a very difficult road. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.’
‘But what if she is the one, mum? What if she’s the one for me?’
‘Do you like her?’
‘I never thought she’d be interested in someone like me. I always thought she was way too good for me.’
‘That’s not really what I asked you. I asked if you like her.’
‘From what I know so far… yes, yes I do.’
‘What do you like about her?’
‘She’s kind… considerate. Intelligent.’ I pause. ‘Confident.’ I think for a moment. ‘Kind.’
‘You already said that…’
‘I can say it again and again, because, yeah… she is.’
‘Not beautiful?’ asks mum, smiling at me, making me blush.
‘I think she’s…’ Can I tell this to my mum? ‘Yeah, she’s… well, I’d say… quite…’
‘Beautiful?’
‘I haven’t been lusting after her, mum. She’s not that kind of person…’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You always taught us to lower our gaze, so that’s what I’ve always done. I didn’t seek her out. I don’t sit with my mates, ogling at all the girls. They do, but… but, no, that’s not me.’
‘But, still, you have eyes…’
‘She’s pretty, I admit it. Probably the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Though I admit my worldview is limited after five years at a boys-only grammar school, and twelve years at a boys-only madrassa after school. No, but to me, she is quite beautiful.’ I look at her. ‘But really, mum, that’s not the beauty that attracts me. That’s her heart. She has a beautiful heart.’
‘Your dad said something like that to me once.’
‘He was right,’ I smile. ‘And I think I’m right about Ayşegül too.’
‘Ayşegül? Is that her name?’
‘Yes,’ I whisper.
‘So she’s a Muslim?’
‘Yes,’ I mutter. ‘A proper Muslim too.’
‘Proper? What’s that?’
‘She prays. She gives good advice.’
‘She’s advised you?’
‘She has actually,’ I whisper. ‘She advised me to make dua when you were all mad at me. She advised me to pray for you and dad. She was kind to me when I was feeling really down.’
‘There’s that word again,’ laughs mum.
‘Kind? Yeah, well what can I say? She is. She’s so kind, and that kindness attracts me so much. So much more than her looks. I’m just telling you the truth, mum: I think she is the one. That’s what my heart tells me. It tells me she’s the one I’m meant to be with. And it says: “Hurry up! Don’t blow it!” That’s how I feel. I want to be with Ayşegül.’
‘And how does Ayşegül feel?’
‘She wants you to introduce me to her parents,’ I whisper.
‘That serious!’ laughs mum. ‘She’s not wasting any time then?’
‘Is that wrong?’ I ask. ‘Isn’t that how Muslims do it?’
‘We’re going to have to work it out, aren’t we?’ she smiles.
‘You don’t know?’
‘I must admit that as convert I never worked out what was just culture and what was truly Islamic. And, to be honest, I never had to worry about it, because my parents already knew and loved your dad. They were right behind me all the way.’
‘Can I count on you to do the same?’ I ask.
Mum is silent for a while, and I don’t know what her silence means.
‘I don’t really want to be one of those parents who interferes with my children’s hearts,’ she says finally. ‘I’ve had enough heartbreak in my life to know that’s not the right way. I just don’t want you to make a mistake you might regret.’
‘You always taught me to own my mistakes. But what if it’s not a mistake? What if my heart tells me the truth? What if I’m not meant to wait until I’m twenty-four? What if Allah wants to reward me right now?’
‘Reward you?’
‘That’s how I feel. I feel like Ayşegül is my reward. For patience. For lowering my gaze. For not following in my mates’ footsteps. For just trying my best to be a good kid, no matter how badly I failed. For believing in you two. For finishing the Quran. For praying salat. That’s how I feel. As soon as I started taking all those things seriously, Allah opened a door for me. If I put everything in a row and just look at what happened: I just say, subhanallah. I believe Allah sent me Ayşegül… And I don’t want to lose her.’
‘Now you’re starting to sound like your dad,’ laughs mum.
‘And I now know exactly how dad felt.’
Mum is quiet again.
‘You know I’m not going to stand in your way, don’t you Ibby? I’d never do that to you. Whatever you decide… it’s your life. I’ll never put you through what I went through.’ She looks at me, smiling. ‘I’m glad you felt able to talk to me about your feelings. That means a lot to me.’
‘Likewise,’ I say. ‘I was worried you were going to blow your top.’
‘Would I do something like that?’ she asks. ‘We’re not that strict.’
‘You are mum!’
‘Oh, don’t say that.’
‘So you’re okay if I ask her out on a date?’ I laugh.
‘I never said that,’ she smiles, ‘But I’d like to meet her. What was her name again? Aisha?’
‘Ayşegül,’ I say.
‘Why don’t we invite her family for iftar one evening? Maybe you can cook. If she doesn’t die of food poisoning, we’ll take it as a good sign.’
‘Funny, mum,’ I sigh. ‘But yeah, I’d like that.’
‘Then do what you have to do, Ibby. I’ll support you all the way.’
