It is lunchtime and I am meeting up with my best friend Fatima in a restaurant not too far from where we both work. I observe Dhuhr (afternoon) prayer before going to meet her. Emma and I arrive at the place before Fatima. We order our food while waiting for her. I order buffalo chicken wrap with homemade ranch salad and a glass of water. Emma orders chicken cob salad with a watermelon smoothie.
“So, how is work?” I say and take a bite of my food.
Emma and I don’t work in the same department. She works in the administrative department while I work in the programming department.
“Work is fine other than the fact that my supervisor can be overbearing at times.”
“Sorry, I know how that feels.”
“He is so annoying that sometimes, I wish I could knock some sense into him.”
“I can imagine you doing that to him,” I chuckle.
“Thank God, I only have to work under him for a year.”
“That’s right, your internship ends after a year.”
“Yes, it does.”
“I just remembered I have a basketball game on Saturday, would you like to come?” I say recalling we have a match this Saturday.
“You play basketball?” Emma asks, looking shocked.
“Yes, I do. And I understand why you are surprised. I don’t come off as someone who plays sports.”
“Yeah, you don’t.”
“I know. I would have you know I am an athlete,” I say smiling.
“Wow, if you hadn’t told me I would have never guessed.” Emma says still looking a bit surprised.
“I hear that a lot.”
“Which other sports do you play?”
“I play volleyball, I run and any other athletic sport.”
“That’s nice, and you can count me in on Saturday. I will bring all my cheerleading spirit with me,” Emma says smiling.
“Alright, I will send the address to you, and Fatima is here,” I say as I see Fatima stepping inside. I wave my hand so she can see me. After turning a few times, she spots Emma and me and walks toward us.
“As-salamu Alaykum! (Peace be upon you)” she greets coming up to hug me before sitting down.
Fatima is dark skinned and 5 feet 6 inches tall. She is of Somalian heritage but born and raised in America, so that makes her first generation American.
“Wa Alaykum salam! (peace be upon you too)” I reply hugging her back.
“Wa Alaykum Salam, Fatima,” Emma says hugging her.
“Hey! You can say it well now,” Fatima says smiling.
“I learned from the best,” Emma says winking at me.
“Babe, you won’t believe who my boss is,” I say to Fatima.
“Who?” Fatima asks getting all excited.
“Ismail!”
“Ismail, Ismail?” Fatima says with a knowing look.
“Yes Ismail, Ismail.”
“How?”
“He is the CEO of the company.”
“You are kidding me, right? Babe, tell me the truth.” Fatima says taking a little bite from my food.
“Hey, don’t touch my food and I am not joking.” I say hitting her hands away from my food.
“Can I ask something?” Emma says looking confused.
“Yes.” Fatima and I both answer.
“Why is it a big deal?”
“It’s a big deal because that man has gotten Umit fired three times,” Fatima says.
“How?” Emma says looking at Fatima and me with disbelieve and shock.
“When I was at university, I had three part-time jobs and got fired from all of them because of him,” I tell, remembering how I lost all my jobs because of that man.
“Did he own all the places you worked at or something?” Emma asks, looking confused.
“No, he did not. Unfortunately for me, every time he came to a place I worked, I poured coffee on him. I never did it on purpose, but it always happened. It’s like anytime he came I would always get distracted, and it always got me fired. The first time it happened I thought I got fired for another reason. But after three times I just knew it was because of him. I call him my bad luck charm,” I say still finding it unbelievable that I poured coffee on him each time I saw him, even though it has happened in three different places.
“Wow, I can see why you don’t like him,” Emma says.
“Yes, and I hope this time I won’t get fired because I love my job.” I say.
“Just make sure not to pour coffee on him, and I think you will be fine,” Fatima says giggling a little.
“Hey! Stop laughing. It’s not a laughing matter. This is my career we are talking about,” I say.
“The only thing I can tell you is to be careful because I don’t want to have to take care of you,” Fatima says laughing.
“HEY!” I say giving her a little push, while shaking my head.
Fatima orders her lunch and we all finish eating before going back to work. Emma and I say our goodbyes before going to our separate offices. I am on my way to my office when a voice stops me dead in my tracks.
“Umit, can I see you in my office,” Ismail says.
“Yes, sir,” I say, wondering if I will ever get used to showing him so much respect. His office is nice and not what I expected for someone like him. The walls are painted white with a few golden lines around the edges. The desk is ceramic brown with white colored chairs and behind the desk area is a bookshelf. To the left is a TV with brown couches, as well as a beautiful view of the city through the glass windows. The floors are white ceramic tiles, making his office stand out. I am proud of him, but I will never tell him that.
“You asked for me, sir?” I say cringing while saying it.
“You can call me by my name when we are alone. You sound so weird calling me that,” he says trying hard not to laugh.
“I can see you are enjoying the fact that you are my boss.”
“More than you can imagine,” he replies, finally letting his laughter come out.
“Why did you call me here?” I ask, getting comfortable on a seat.
“Who said you could sit down?” he says, trying to sound serious.
“Who said I couldn’t?”
“Whatever, I called you here to sign this,” he says, handing me a contract and accepting defeat.
“What is it?” I ask taking the contract from his hands.
“Read it for yourself.”
I read the contract, and it says I should not come anywhere near him with a coffee.
“Are you serious?” I say, not quite believing he would put something like this on paper.
“Yes I am. Because I can’t have you pouring coffee all over me at work. And maybe, if we have it on paper you will be able to abide by it.”
“It was an accident.”
“Three times does not sound like an accident, young lady.”
“Alright fine, I will sign it but only if you promise not to get me fired if anything happens,” I say not adding ‘should I pour coffee on you.’
“What do you mean, if anything happens?”
“I don’t know. Maybe something not work-related shouldn’t get me fired.”
“Alright, I will draft another one and I will bring it home.”
“Okay, I’ll see you when you get home then,” I say getting up from my seat.
“Why did you just sound like a married couple,” someone says from the door. It is none other than his best friend, Udar. He also is not one of my favorite persons in the world.
Udar is light skinned, 6-feet-tall has a lean build and black hair. He is of Pakistani heritage but was born and raised in London and like Ismail moved to America to attend university when he was 18.
“We did not,” I say confused.
“No, we did not,” Ismail says.
“You guys sure did,” Udar says smiling while taking a seat.
“Whatever. See you later, Ismail,” I say, stepping out of his office.
The next morning I wake up and I do my morning routine of prayers and exercise. I am wearing a white crop sweater, grey and white plaid pants, white converse sneakers, a black hajib, and carry a black satchel bag. I am eating cinnamon French toast sticks with coffee for breakfast in the kitchen when Ismail walks in, looking handsome and as arrogant as ever. ‘I wonder what he is doing here?’ “Umit, here is the contract. I just need you to sign it and then we are fine,” Ismail places a piece of paper in front of me. “Why did you not give me these last night?” I ask, grabbing a pen from my bag so that I can sign it. “I forgot to give it to you last night.” “Here, I have signed it. But I wanted to ask, what will happen if I breach the contract,” I ask because I didn’t bother to read the whole contract again. “You will pay me $10,000!” Ismail grins. “I will pay WHAT!” I yell in disbelieve. “$10,000 and also pay for dry cle
I finished work a few hours ago, but I am still at the office because my car won’t start and I don’t know why. I tried everything I can think of to make it work, but it won’t start. I decide to leave it at work and have someone pick it up tomorrow. I walk out of the parking lot to get a taxi and go home. I am at home, cooking in the kitchen when Ismail walks in. “My beautiful lady, I am here to bless you with my amazing hands to help cook this food,” Ismail says walking into the kitchen, back to his arrogant self. “First of all, your hands are not that amazing and second, I don’t need your help.” “I want to help because I believe it might help with co-existing.” “Really,” I say not believing him. “Yes, because we have to learn to co-exist if we don’t want Aazim to throw both of us out of his house.” “Oh, alright, then. You can help me with the potatoes. You can help me peel them,” I say, handing him a bowl of pot
The week has gone by so fast. I can’t believe how much has changed. Living in the same house as Ismail is easier than I thought. We hardly fight, but when we do Aazim is always there to break it up. He kept to his word and had my laptop fixed. I was surprised he did, but it made me understand Ismail is a man of his word. Something I find good about him, even though I dislike him. Today is the day of the presentation of the project I have been working on for the past week. I have been pacing up and down the kitchen this morning making sure everything I need is ready, but I can’t seem to cool down because the way Ismail is looking at me is not helping. He has this boyish smirk on his face as if he can’t wait for me to mess this up so he can rub it in my face. I am so going to prove him wrong today. “Will you stop looking at me like that!” “How am I looking at you, Miss,” Ismail says, smirking more knowing he is getting to me. “I don’t know! Just stop!”
I arrive at the restaurant before anyone else. I am waiting for them at the front while waiting for a table. To my utmost surprise, Ismail walks in. ‘I wonder why he is here. I hope he did not follow me.’ “Why are you here?” I ask. “I thought you said you are not talking to me.” “Are you following me?” I say totally ignoring what he said. “Of course not, I am here to eat.” “Oh, good for you,” I say. He doesn’t say anything but shakes his head. “Are you guys ready to take your seat? We have an empty table,” the lady from the front desk says. “No, I am waiting for someone,” we both reply. “Alright, no problem.” A few minutes later Fatima and Udar walk in and they are talking but stop when they see Ismail and me waiting. Do they know each other? I can’t remember ever telling Fatima about Udar, maybe she does. “What’s going on? Did you guys come together?” Fatima asks while coming to stand beside me
Today Fatima and I are meeting up after work to talk about her and Udar’s almost marriage. I am still shocked she almost got married and I am just finding out about it now. Today I am wearing white high waist wide leg trousers, a black top, white swing coat, black stiletto heels, a black hajib, and a black handbag. I perform my Asr (late afternoon) prayers before going to see Fatima. I just finished at the office, and I am on my way over to her place. I park my car and walk out to meet Fatima. The home has a black cast iron gate with lovely flowers all around the front porch. It’s a two-story building. I ring the bell three times before the maid opens it for me. I make my way straight to Fatima’s room. The entryway is as lovely as the front porch; there are grand staircases with black bannisters leading to two separate parts in the house, and a big crystal chandelier. “As-salamu Alaykum,” I say walking into her room after knocking. Fatim
I am about to leave Fatima’s to go home when I am pulled from behind into a big hug from Abeela. Abeela is brown skinned and 5 feet 5 inches tall. “As-salamu Alaykum, kiddo.” “Wa- Alaykumu Salam, how are you, aunt Umit?” she says stepping in front of me. “I’m good, how are you?” “I am fine too, how is work?” “It’s a bit stressful but okay. How is school?” “It’s amazing. There is so much I want to tell you about school, but I am on my way out,” she says. “You are going out looking like that?” I say taking a good look at how she is dressed, and I am disappointed to say this is no way a Muslim girl should dress to go out. She is wearing a very short skirt that stops mid-thigh and even though she is wearing pantyhose, it’s still too short. “Yes, what’s wrong with it?” she says like she doesn’t know. “What is wrong with it?” I say in a stern voice. “Aunt, what’s wrong with it? This is how everyone dresses now
The week has gone by so fast. The game made by my group and me has gone viral in a week. I am so happy that words cannot describe it. I am working in my office when Emma barges in, looking like she wants to kill someone. “Hey!” I say confused as to why she walked in like that. “I can’t believe she is back,” Emma says, pacing up and down my office. “Who is back?” I ask. “That slut!” she growls angry. “Which slut?” I say totally confused. “Anna Huston,” Emma says with disgust. “Who is that? And why are you calling her a slut?” “She is the slut Austin cheated on me with.” “Wait! He cheated on you?” I say, guessing that’s why they broke up. “Sorry, I should not have brought my problem to you. I should go,” she says walking toward the door. “No, no it’s fine, I am here to listen,” I say, walking towards the door to stop her from leaving. “Thank you.” “Why don’t you sit down and calm do
The next morning, I wake up real early to make breakfast for everyone but made sure to make Ismail’s just a little extra special. I made red velvet pancakes with ice cream and strawberries. I even put a hydrangea flower on the tray. I can’t wait for him to come downstairs. I am sure he is going to be confused as to why I made his breakfast so special. I plan to please Ismail so he will pick me for the trip. I hope it works. “Hmm, what smells so good,” Ismail says walking into the kitchen. “Good morning Ismail, how was your night?” I ask smiling. “My night was fine, thank you for asking and whose breakfast is that,” Ismail says looking at me suspiciously. “That’s good, and it’s yours.” I say putting the tray in front of him. “Really, did you make it?” “Yes, I did. I made it especially for you,” I say smiling at him. “Umit, are you trying to kill me?” “Ismail I would never try and kill you,” I say even though I know there