“What home?” Ethan laughed, but Amir dutifully drank the club soda.
“So what should Khalid do?” Amir asked after a few seconds of chugging to clear his head.
“I don’t get it. Why are you marrying the hottie if you like her cousin?” Ethan asked. “Why are you getting married at all? You’re not forty, and she’s not pregnant.” He paused. “Is she pregnant?”
Mo and Amir fell against one another, laughing.
“No, she is not with child,” Khalid said tightly. “She’s a virgin, and so am I.”
There was a stunned silence among the men.
“You’re not supposed to say that out loud,” Mo said. “There are women present.”
“You must be going out of your mind,” Ethan said. “I lost it when I was fourteen.”
“I was twelve,” Mo bragged.
“I was nine!” Amir said.
“And you’re all such wonderful models of manhood,” Khalid said.
“K-Man, sarcasm don’t look good on you,” Amir said. “Okay, maybe I was sixteen. How do you deal?”
Khalid shrugged. He regretted being so forthcoming. “It can be uncomfortable at times. However, I want to wait until I am married.”
“Then go with the hottie,” Ethan advised. “You want your first to be worth the wait.”
“You mean my only. I have no intention of sleeping with anyone other than my wife.”
“Don’t you mean wives,” Mo said. “You can have four, you know.” He nudged Khalid, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“One is sufficient for me. Amir, you brought me here to make fun of me, didn’t you?” Khalid looked around at the men and sighed. “I should have known better.”
This time Amir didn’t stop him when he walked away.
Andy the Bouncer nodded at Khalid at the door. “You with those idiots?”
Khalid shook his head. “Definitely not.”
“Look at that A-meer guy. It’s a new girl every night. Like he doesn’t have his own place or something. He’s pathetic.”
Khalid looked back at Amir, who was flirting with a brunette in a halter top. She was laughing and he was leaning close. Khalid noticed the stubble on his friend’s face, recognized the familiar emerald-green shirt and black pants.
Andy looked disgusted, and Khalid gripped his keys. He contemplated returning to the table, but when he looked back, Amir was gone.
On the way to the car, Khalid checked his phone again. Still no word from Zareena.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The waiting room was full when Ayesha brought Nana in for his six-month checkup with Dr. Adams, the cardiologist. Nana had a heart condition—a very minor one, he assured Ayesha—that had to be monitored regularly.
“Remember, you promised to tell Dr. Adams about your smoking,” she said.
“I do not wish to alarm him. It is only the occasional cigarette.” Nana looked at his granddaughter to see if she bought his story.
She didn’t. “You promised to quit.”
“A man my age has few joys left in life,” Nana began, but Ayesha stopped him.
“If you don’t tell Dr. Adams, I will.”
“He always sides with you. Actually, jaanu, I would like to switch doctors. It is my right as a patient.”
The chore of taking Nana to the doctor had fallen to Ayesha after he had declared several years ago that he no longer believed in Western medicine.
“Your blood pressure medication is the only thing that is keeping you alive, you idiot,” Nani had said when she found out.
“It is Allah who is keeping me alive,” he argued. That hadn’t worked either, and now his days of solitary doctor visits were a thing of the past.
Ayesha’s phone pinged with an incoming text message. It was Masood again:
I’m about to trademark “Punch of the Seven Veils.” If you don’t want it, one of my preschool mixed martial arts students is showing a lot of promise. Actually, she reminds me of you. If not wrestling, how about joining a Fight Club? I hear they’re really relaxing.
Ayesha smiled and put her phone away. Though she had never responded to his notes, Masood’s texts were a comforting absurdity.
Nana leaned back in his chair. “Beti, tell me the truth. Are you angry with Nani?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“There are no secrets between married people. I know that Nani conducted an investigation on your behalf and that it was unsuccessful. Are you very hurt?”
Ayesha bit her bottom lip. “I’m happy for Hafsa and Khalid. Even if the only reason they are getting married is to please their parents.”
Nana bowed his head, his face sombre. He seemed to be thinking something over.
“‘The robbed that smiles steals something from the thief,’” he offered instead.
Ayesha remained silent. Sometimes, even Shakespeare could offer no comfort. Right now, she was also worried about Tarek’s warning. She had been turning it over and over in her head all day, trying to figure out the right course of action. Perhaps Nana could provide some guidance.
“What would you do if you heard something very bad about Khalid and his family?” she asked.
Her grandfather picked up a magazine from the shelf. “Is this ‘something’ from a reliable source?”
Ayesha thought about Tarek. He was unpredictable and moody, but he seemed familiar with Khalid’s family. Besides, only a monster would make up such a terrible story. It had to be true. She nodded and filled her grandfather in on the details. His face grew serious and he bowed his head.
“This is a dreadful accusation indeed,” Nana said. “If it is true, Hafsa cannot marry into such a family.”
A sadness filled Ayesha. If the story was true, Farzana was even worse than she had thought. It also meant Khalid was hiding the forced marriage and banishment of his sister. The idea horrified her.
Dr. Adams emerged from his office and smiled at Nana, who rose. “Leave this matter with me only. I will attempt to ascertain the veracity of this story,” her grandfather said.
Except Ayesha couldn’t leave it with Nana. She had promised Sulaiman Mamu she would keep an eye on Hafsa. She called Clara from the waiting room and related Tarek’s accusations.
When she finished, Clara was silent, thinking. “I find this hard to believe. I can’t imagine Khalid would keep quiet about something so underhanded,” she said, and Ayesha felt relieved. Clara continued. “Still, you never know what happens in people’s families. I think you should tell Hafsa. We don’t know if it’s true, and there’s no point telling her parents yet. But she has a right to hear these rumours and decide what she wants to do.”
Clara was right. Khalid had looked so sad when he’d spoken about his sister. Or maybe that was his shame coming through. It wasn’t like she really knew him. Did she?
“What would Nana do?” Clara asked.
Ayesha smiled. They played this game often, whenever they were confronted with an ethical quandary. What would Nana do? “He’d say, ‘Family first.’ Then he would remind me that Sulaiman Mamu rushed to Hyderabad after my father died and saved us all.”
“What would Samira Aunty do?”
“Don’t be so melodramatic, Ayesha. The wedding show must go on!” Ayesha mocked, and Clara laughed at her impersonation.
“Right. What would Hafsa do?”
“I don’t know anymore,” Ayesha said slowly.
“Remember when she was twelve years old, and you told her Veer Patel was only talking to her because he wanted a nude picture?”
Ayesha laughed. “Who knew twelve-year-olds were such creeps?”
“She didn’t believe you, and she screamed at you in front of her friends. Don’t be so sure Hafsa’s going to appreciate your warning, or listen to your words,” Clara said.
“The moment Tarek told me about Khalid’s family, it became my responsibility.”
Clara was silent, and Ayesha wondered if she disapproved. “I’m thinking of bre
aking up with Rob,” she said instead.
“It’s not because of what Khalid said over dinner, is it?”
“Rob’s not ready to move forward, and I don’t know how much longer I can wait. Ten years with him, and it’s all come to nothing.”
“Clara, it wasn’t nothing. You mean the world to Rob. If it’s not meant to be, you will be the world to someone else. You need a nosy aunty to send him a rishta. A professional matchmaker to put him on the spot.”
Clara cleared her throat, and Ayesha heard the rustle of tissue.
“I’m sorry to bother you with my stupid problems right now,” Ayesha said.
Clara laughed, her voice shaky. “You should talk to Hafsa. It might not do any good, but I know it will bother you if you don’t.”
Nana emerged from the doctor’s office, smiling. “I am very healthy and will live to be one hundred and five, according to Dr.
Adams,” he said to Ayesha.
She drove them home in silence, thinking about her cousin. She had a pretty good idea where she was right now, and her news would not wait.
“Tell Nani I’ll be back. I have to do something first,” she said.
HAFSA was sitting in the food court of the mall, a container of fries in front of her, three little paper cups filled with assorted seasonings arranged neatly in a row on the table. She was methodically covering a fry with cajun powder when Ayesha settled into the seat opposite.
“Someone’s sitting there,” Hafsa said without looking up. “Don’t you have a conference to plan, Miss Perfect?”
Ayesha ignored her. Every time she talked to Hafsa lately, she was drawn into her rabbit hole of drama. She could feel it happening again, and she fought against the current, toward the shores of reason.
“I have something to tell you about Khalid and his family. I’m not sure if it’s true, but I think you need to hear this anyway and decide for yourself. Khalid has an older sister, Zareena. A few years ago her family forced her to marry someone in India.”
Hafsa continued to eat her fries, not making eye contact. “So?”
“This is bad, Hafs. Just think of the family you are marrying into.”
Hafsa shook her head. “Let me get this straight. You heard some gossip about Khalid and, based on these unfounded rumours, you think I should dump him?”
“It’s a trustworthy source. I’m only trying to look out for you.”
“If Khalid is as terrible as you say, I’ll divorce him. That way I get to keep his money and the money Dad promised for the wedding.”
Ayesha reeled back. “That’s horrible.”
Hafsa’s eyes flashed. “Even more horrible than making a move on your cousin’s rishta?” she snapped. “I know all about your little romance with Khalid. His mother told me everything.”
“Is that why you said yes to him? To get back at me?”
Hafsa shrugged. “Not everything is about you.”
Ayesha stared at her, wondering how Hafsa could sit there calmly eating junk food while her words ripped out her heart.
“I’m done making excuses for you, Hafsa. You’re an adult. You’ll just have to live with the consequences of your actions, like everyone else.”
Chapter Thirty
Sister Farzana! What are you doing here?” It was Monday morning, and Tarek was loitering inside the Toronto Muslim Assembly, waiting for the weekly executive board meeting to finish. For extra emphasis, he turned on the full force of his megawatt smile.
Farzana sniffed dismissively. “If you are here to talk me out of complaining about Ayesha’s behaviour, you are too late. The executive board is considering their options.” She looked Tarek up and down, taking in his fashionably distressed jeans, ankle boots and black leather motorcycle jacket.
“Are you even capable of growing a beard?” she asked.
Tarek’s smile didn’t falter. “I have been attempting a beard for years. Your son is my new role model. You have done such a good job raising him.”
Farzana relaxed, slightly. “What do you want?”
Tarek eyed her. He had never sought Farzana out before, not in all these years. She had become a bogeyman in his mind, the manufacturer of his greatest disappointment. But after her performance at the conference meeting, he had finally been able to see her for who she truly was: a pathetic caricature, a puffed-up phony who needed to be knocked off her self-righteous pedestal.
And he happened to have motive, opportunity and a great big baseball bat ready to take a swing at her perfectly choreographed life.
“I was very moved by your efficient choice of decor and theme at our last meeting.” Tarek placed a hand on his heart.
Farzana’s scowl dropped, replaced with something that might one day grow up to be a smile. Or at least a not-frown. “Young people must listen to their elders, who have experience and know better.”
“I couldn’t agree more. I have so much respect for my parents. They moved to Canada from Pakistan, leaving everything they knew and loved behind. As children, we have to acknowledge that sacrifice with absolute obedience.”
Farzana relaxed some more, the not-frown tightening into an upturned grimace. Tarek recognized his moment, gleeful. “Actually, I was hoping to run into you today. I have some disturbing information about Imam Abdul Bari, and I need to tell someone I can trust.”
Farzana pounced. “You can trust me. I only have the mosque’s best interests in mind.” They walked to the conference room for privacy, and Farzana looked eagerly at Tarek.
“Sister Farzana, I’m sure you have heard that the Toronto Muslim Assembly is nearly bankrupt. However, I recently discovered the reason for these troubling financial problems.”
Tarek drew out the moment as long as possible, closing his eyes for added emphasis, as if the words were too painful to be spoken out loud.
“Imam Abdul Bari is stealing from the mosque,” Tarek announced, his voice mournful. “He requested all the funds collected from the conference be deposited into his bank account. I don’t know what to do,” he added.
“We must catch him in the act and then expose him to the congregation as a crook,” Farzana said. “I never liked the imam. He smiles too much.”
“What a great idea,” Tarek said. “In the meantime, I’ll deposit the money into another bank account, for safekeeping.”
He watched Farzana take the bait as expected: She was always so quick to think badly of others. Tarek flexed his fingers and imagined himself gripping a baseball bat of truth. He pictured himself taking a swing and shattering Farzana’s biggest secret, straight into the wide-open sunshine.
TAREK returned to the mosque a few days later at sunset. He made sure to wait by the entrance of the prayer hall for Khalid and rearranged his expression into one of delighted surprise when he spotted the taller man.
“Assalamu Alaikum, Khalid,” he said, shaking his hand. “I’m so happy I bumped into you.” Tarek suggested they grab coffee and discuss the conference details. With less than a week to go, there was still a lot to do. After the prayer, they made their way across the street to a Tim Hortons coffee shop.
“How long have you been running these conferences?” Khalid asked Tarek after they’d ordered their drinks and donuts.
“This will be my fifth year. I recognized a real need in the Muslim community to discuss ideas with other stakeholders,” Tarek said. “That’s why we started the summer conference, to attract the youth. I only hope we can help with the Toronto Muslim Assembly’s financial problems.”
Khalid looked bleak. “Over five hundred people pre-registered, but I don’t know if it’s enough. We need a miracle to save the mosque.”
“Please make sure all the registration proceeds are deposited to the Muslims in Action bank account.”
Khalid looked confused. “The imam said the registration money should be deposited into the mosque account, so we could pay our debts immediately.”
Tarek shook his head. “I’m afraid for tax purposes, the money must first go in
to my organization’s account. Otherwise it won’t be a charitable tax write-off. I cleared all this with your mother, and since she’s on the executive board, I’m sure it will be fine with the imam as well.”
Khalid frowned. “I need to double-check with Abdul Bari,” he said.
Tarek examined Khalid. He was so tightly wound that all he needed was a little push. “Congratulations on your engagement,” he said casually. “Hafsa is a special girl.”
Khalid nodded, still frowning. “I think the imam is in his office. I should talk with him about the money right now.”
Tarek ignored him. “I’m thinking of getting married soon too. Do you know if Sister Ayesha is single?”
Khalid froze. “Why do you want to know?” he asked, keeping his voice even.
“I need a wife who is practical and capable. Ayesha had the best ideas for the conference during our meetings. Besides, she has a really lovely smile. I’m thinking of approaching her father.”
“Her father is dead,” Khalid blurted.
“Her mother, then.”
“I don’t think she’s on good terms with her mother either.” Khalid gulped the hot coffee, exclaiming as he scalded his tongue.
Tarek eyed Khalid like a falcon going in for the kill. “I hope I haven’t offended you. I really admire her character, and I thought I would ask your opinion. I noticed you have become close. Is she in a relationship?”
Khalid took a large, vicious bite of his donut. “As far as I know, Ayesha is single and available for anyone who’s interested in her.”
“Anyone except you,” Tarek said softly. “Isn’t that right?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“An engagement is not the same thing as a nikah, Khalid. You’re not married to Hafsa. Yet.”
“Hafsa makes my mother happy. Love blossoms after the wedding,” Khalid said automatically.
Tarek regarded Khalid for a long moment. “You know that’s not true. I think it’s time you stopped lying to yourself.”
Khalid toyed with his empty coffee cup. He didn’t meet Tarek’s eyes.
“I loved someone very deeply, a long time ago,” Tarek said. “Things didn’t work out, but I never forgot her. You never forget your first love. As a Muslim, can you really stand in front of Allah and pledge to love only Hafsa when your heart belongs to someone else?”
Ayesha At Last Page 21
