”KAY! ZAID!”
I turned around to see who was calling me and almost died of embarrassment on the spot. It was Naasir, a guy who was in Zaid’s class. Who I used to have an embarrassing crush on. And worse part was that he knew it. I was naive and wore my heart on my sleeve back when I was younger. Zaid and Naasir were in matric, the hotshots of the school and I was a geeky friend of Zaid’s who wore braces. The fact that I had a crush on Naasir back then was pretty obvious and unfortunately, he acknowledged it and told me bluntly that I will always be his friend, but there will never be anything between us. That was pretty embarrassing for me, considering that I never wanted there to be anything between us. Sure I was capable of ahving a crush, but definitely not capable of doing anything about it. It had been a long time since I’d seen Naasir- almost a year- so seeing him now brought back the feelings of embarrassment that I had felt back then.
Zaid had heard Naasir calling him and turned to greet him with a hearty hug and handshake.
After chatting to Zaid for a few minutes, with me standing there awkwardly, occasionally adding in a word or two, Naasir turned to me.
”So, how are you Kay?”
”I’m good, alhamdulillah”
”Heard you had good results. Congratulations. So what you plan on doing this year?”
”Well, I’m not sure what I want to study, so I’m gonna take a gap year and figure it out. What have you been up to Naasir?”
”Well, I’ve completed first year medicine. Gonna be starting campus again next month. Aaaah I’m not looking forward to waking up early.”
”Oh so you wanna be a doctor huh? Pretty cool.”
”Well, it is difficult, but it does have its upsides. Especially dissection of human bodies. That was a blast!”
”Urgh Naasir! That’s gross! Kinda cool, but still gross.”
We chatted for a bit when Naasir mentioned that his dad was looking for interns for his lifestyle magazine.
”Hey, aren’t you a good writer? Mr T (our English teacher) was always telling our class about your essays. Why don’t you do pieces for my dad’s magazine? He’s been looking around for someone who can write.”
This sounded like something I would enjoy.
”That sounds like fun. How do I apply?”
”Give me your number and I’ll tell my dad about you and get him to contact you.”
Although I knew that the only reason Naasir wanted my number was so that he could pass it on to his dad, I still couldn’t help but feel a slight thrill as I called it out for him.
We chatted for a bit more and then bid farewell.
On the way home, Zaid kept teasing me about it.
”So, you and Naasir huh? Very sharp guy. He got your number without much hassle.”
”You and I both know Zaydee that it was strictly for professional reasons. Otherwise I wouldn’t have given my number to him.”
”Yeah keep telling yourself that Kay. Just watch where Naasir is concerned, okay?”
”Fine. Now concentrate on your driving before you get us all killed.”
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The next day, my parents sat me down and gave me a lecture about why I should let this guy come and see me. I finally agreed, just so that they’d stop bugging me about it. They did say after all that if I don’t like the guy, all I need to do is say no.
The guy was coming next Sunday to see me. I wasn’t really nervous. It could be because I didn’t really expect anything to come out of it.
When Sunday came around, I wore my favourite pair of jeans and a purple minidress. I matched it with a turquoise and purple scarf. I looked pretty, but not overdressed.
I had made dessert (through my mother’s insistence). My brothers, who everybody calls Junior and Senior as they both have similar names [Hassan (the older one) was Senior and Hussain (the baby) was Junior] were in their element, teasing me about all the flop ups I could make..
”Knowing you, you’d spill tea all over him.”
”Burning hot tea. Haha Kay, please don’t give the bicharo fellow first degree burns. No matter how pretty you look, I don’t think he’ll be able to look past that.”
”Oh shut up.”
Anyways my older brother came to my room where I was reading a book, to tell me that they were here.
So, my grand entrance?
Wasn’t so grand.
It was the norm that I walk in when everyone was seated, serve everyone tea and we all chat for a bit. Then after, I get to chat to the boy for about twenty minutes without all the adults present.
So when I walked in, everyone was chatting about Nelson Mandela, and how it was so sad that he didn’t accept Islaam before he passed. Nobody really noticed that I had entered.
I grabbed the pre-laid tray of tea stuff and walked over to Aunty Rumaisah, the boy’s mother. She was the same aunty who phoned last week.
As I served her, she started talking to me.
”So you know my Abdullah, He finish study Bcom and now he’s working for an accounting firm. Such a pretty poiri you are and my Abdullah is very handsome too. Nice match your’ll will make. Grandchildren will be very cute…”
By the time I was done serving her, my cheeks were burning. I couldn’t serve everybody else fast enough. Ay, these aunties and the things they say.
When I got to the boy, Abdullah, who I served last, I looked at him properly for the first time. I was pleasantly surprised. Turns out Aunty Rumaisah wasn’t too far off the mark, he was really good looking.
When he looked up at me, our eyes met and I automatically did the first thing that came to mind.
I smiled shyly.
Then I crossed my eyes and stuck out my tongue.
My brothers were right about one thing. Tea was spilled at that moment. But it wasn’t me that spilled it.
Abdullah dropped his teacup with a stunned expression on his face, sending his tea flying in all directions.
allthatiskay 