Ayesha At Last
Page 31
He wanted to be very, very sure. “Yes?” he repeated.
She leaned closer, until there was barely any space between them. “Yes.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Ayesha was trying to distract Clara and failing miserably.
“Anything new at work?” she asked her friend.
“Sheila’s trying to find out who gave Khalid the security footage. She suspects me and Amir, of course.” Clara bit her lip. “I’ll have to look for a new job and a new apartment soon.”
“The only thing you’ll have to search for is honeymoon destinations.”
Clara started to pace. “What’s taking him so long? Rob is going to think this is stupid. I’m such an idiot!”
Ayesha smiled at her friend. She had been doing a lot of smiling lately. Her family had been surprised (except for Nana, Nani, Hafsa and Idris, of course) but happy to hear her good news. Her future mother-in-law was less happy, but Khalid had assured her that Farzana would calm down. Eventually. In the meantime, Zareena’s warm welcome made up for the frosty reception from Khalid’s mother.
She only had two conditions for Khalid. First, their wedding would be held next summer. Ayesha figured this would give them enough time to get to know each other better and be absolutely sure about the marriage. Second, the wedding would be small; one Mughal palace in the family was more than enough.
Clara stopped pacing. “I’m not even desi. What was I thinking?”
“Arranged marriages are not only practised by South Asians. They’re common all over the world. Think of it as a facilitated introduction,” Ayesha soothed.
“I don’t need to be introduced to my own boyfriend!” Clara said. She sank to the ground, moaning, her head in her hands. “What made me think it was a good idea to send Rob a rishta in the first place?”
KHALID was back in his white robe and track pants. His hair was neatly trimmed under the skullcap, but he had decided to let his beard grow out again. Ayesha had told him she liked it.
He sat on the couch and gazed at Clara’s boyfriend. Rob looked back, uneasy.
“What did you want to talk to me about, bro?” Rob asked, taking a swig from his Budweiser.
Khalid took a sip of his club soda. “I am here to present you with a proposal of marriage, on behalf of Clara Taylor,” he said.
Rob’s expression changed from wary to bewildered. “Huh?”
“As her representative, I am here to make an offer of marriage,” Khalid repeated. “After careful consideration of the many years she has spent in your company, Clara has decided you will make an excellent husband and father to her future children. If this proposal is acceptable to you, we can commence with formal negotiations.”
Rob put the beer down on the coffee table. “Are you nuts?”
Khalid, who had been warned that Rob would likely respond with these exact words, continued with his speech. “If her marriage proposal is not acceptable to you, she will withdraw her name from the lease on the apartment, as well as other aspects of your life together.”
Rob leaned back on the sofa. “Hold on a sec. She said that?”
Khalid nodded his head. “As her representative, I can tell you that Clara loves you dearly, and she is eager to move the relationship to the next level.”
Rob picked up his beer and took another sip, thinking. “Why didn’t she just ask me herself?”
“Why didn’t you ask her?” Khalid countered. “I believe she was also inspired by Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him. His wife Khadijah was an older, very clever businesswoman who proposed to him.”
“This for real?”
“Marriage is no laughing matter. If you require further time to consider your rishta, you can contact me with your answer.” Khalid held out a business card with Khalid Mirza, Website Consultant embossed on the front, along with his email and phone number.
Rob stared at it, then at Khalid, eyes lingering on his thick beard. He shook his head slowly. “Clara’s crazy, but I can’t imagine my life without her, and I guess this is what she wants.” He sat up, and in a formal voice said, “I accept Clara Taylor’s offer of marriage.”
Khalid smiled. “An excellent decision. Let’s discuss dowry.”
AYESHA read the text message and whooped loudly.
“What does it say?” Clara asked, looking up from her prone position on the floor.
“Mubarak,” Ayesha said, congratulating her friend. “You’re engaged. Khalid said Rob agreed to a dowry too.”
Clara sat up, dazed. “I don’t need a dowry.”
“He offered to pay for a honeymoon in Hawaii.”
Clara beamed. “Did I tell you how much I like Khalid?”
Ayesha thought about the Taj Mahal, and Shah Jahan’s love for his wife Mumtaz Mahal. Then she thought about her father, who had sacrificed his family for his ideals, and Khalid, her future husband, who had rediscovered his ideals when he fell in love.
“Nana would quote Shakespeare or maybe Rumi,” Clara said. “‘All’s well that ends well.’”
Ayesha shook her head. Sometimes there were no words, only sunshine on your heart. Alhamdulilah.
Acknowledgements
Bismillah.
Bringing a book into the world is the work of many hands, and I have a list of people to thank.
Thank you to my wonderful agent, Ann Collette, for joining the Muslim open call, for picking me out of the slush pile and for believing in my Muslim romantic comedy.
Many thanks to the team at HarperCollins Canada and especially my editor, Jennifer Lambert. You are always right, and so gracious when I am wrong. Thank you for sending me the world’s greatest email.
Every writer needs a village, and my village would not be complete without my #SistersOf ThePen:
Sajidah, my writing soul sister: You called me every day to check in (and make sure I was on task). You read my drafts and mentored me through every step. I am in awe of your talent and so thankful to have you in my life.
Ausma, meeting you was written in the stars. You read my first draft overnight and wrote me the kind of critique letter every writer dreams about. Your talent is matched only by your generous heart.
Rukhsana, for wise counsel, blunt honesty and your beautiful books. Khalid jumped, fully formed, into my imagination during a shared meal with you years ago. Thank you.
My first readers: Tricia, Aminah, Nina. This book is better because of your input.
I am grateful to my parents, Mohammed and Azmat. I won the genetic lottery when I was born to the kindest, strongest and best people I know. Thanks also to my mother-in-law, Fouzia, for the hint about leaving space for the perfect paratha, and for your compassion. For my brother, Atif: Your impish sense of humour is surpassed only by your bravery. To the rest of my large, wonderful Indian family: I love you all. Thank you for putting up with me.
To my sons, Mustafa and Ibrahim, whose disinterest in my writing career has always kept me grounded: You are my favourite people in the world.
Thank you to the Toronto Muslim community. I grew up attending study circles, conferences, lectures, picnics, fundraising dinners and sleepovers at mosques around the city. Through them, I found myself.
Many thanks to Mary Vallis, Amber Shortt, Kate Robertson. Writing my column “Samosas and Maple Syrup” for the Toronto Star helped me realize I was a writer.
And finally, to my husband, Imtiaz: You are the sunshine on my heart. Thank you for dreaming with me.
Shakespeare in Ayesha at Last
PAGE 24
Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! . . . Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows. As yonder lady o’er her fellows shows.
—Romeo and Juliet, Act 1, Scene 5
PAGE 27
Self-love . . . is not so vile a sin as self-neglecting.
—Henry V, Act 2, Scene 4
PAGE 43
We know what we are, but know not what we may be.
—Hamlet, Act 4, Sc
ene 5
PAGES 44, 108
No sooner met but they looked, no sooner looked but they loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason, no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage.
—As You Like It, Act 5, Scene 2
PAGE 67
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem, / For that sweet odour, which doth in it live. —Sonnet 54
PAGE 123
False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
—Macbeth, Act 1, Scene 7
PAGE 172
Better three hours too soon than a minute too late.
—The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act 2, Scene 2
PAGE 182
Love sought is good, but given unsought better.
—Twelfth Night, Act 3, Scene 1
PAGE 196
We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.
—The Tempest, Act 4, Scene 1
PAGE 220
The robbed that smiles steals something from the thief.
—Othello, Act 1, Scene 3
PAGES 245–46
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
—Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
PAGE 328
Let me not to the marriage of true minds / Admit impediments. Love is not love / Which alters when it alteration finds, / Or bends with the remover to remove: / O, no! It is an ever-fixed mark / That looks on tempests and is never shaken.
—Sonnet 116
PAGE 333
All’s well that ends well.
—A play of the same name
About the Author
UZMA JALALUDDIN is a high school teacher who writes “Samosas and Maple Syrup,” a regular column about modern Muslim life for the Toronto Star. Ayesha at Last is her first novel.
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Copyright
Ayesha at Last
Copyright © 2018 by Uzma Jalaluddin.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Published by Harper Avenue, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
FIRST EDITION
All cover images: Shutterstock
EPub Edition: JUNE 2018 EPub ISBN: 978-1-44345-585-5
Version 05032018
Print ISBN: 978-1-44345-584-8
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