CHAPTER 2
Leaving school early, during his lunch break no less, would have normally been cause for celebration.
Not this time. Anthony wasn’t sure what to expect as he drove to pick up Omar.
They hadn’t seen each other since Sunday morning, when his best friend showed up unexpectedly with heartbreaking news: Mamani had passed away quietly in the night.
Anthony ached with the loss. He’d known her his entire life.
She had always been there, a seemingly permanent cornerstone of Omar’s world, just like the house he pulled up to now but so much more valuable.
Her wisdom, her humor, her grace… All gone.
The driveway was filled with cars, so Anthony parked next to the curb. Omar burst out of the front door, like he’d been waiting. He was wearing all black, which wasn’t unusual, although the suit jacket and dress shirt were rarely seen.
Omar gave him an upward nod after hopping in and offered a disarmingly upbeat, “How’s it going?”
“All right,” Anthony replied while studying him.
Omar avoided making eye contact. “Let’s get this show on the road!” he crowed, like they were heading to a party.
“Where exactly?” Anthony asked.
“Just head toward Overland Park.”
Anthony shifted into drive. “I’m surprised the funeral is happening so soon.”
“It’s a Muslim thing,” Omar said casually. “You’re supposed to bury the body within twenty-four hours.” His voice sounded a little raw when he added, “Mamani wouldn’t have liked that it took this long.”
Anthony glanced over at him with a pang of sympathy. “I’m sure she’s at peace.”
“Whatever,” Omar replied dismissively, reaching for a cardboard box of 8-track tapes. “Let’s listen to some Judas Priest. Is that still in here?”
“Should be,” Anthony said, eyeing him with concern. “Or we can talk.”
“Why talk when you can rock?” Omar grimaced at the hokeyness of the line. Then he crammed the 8-track tape into the player and cranked up the volume.
Anthony let the music play a minute before lowering it again. “Are you sure? This feels, I don’t know… disrespectful.”
“Mamani doesn’t care,” Omar spat, reaching for the volume knob. “She’s dead.”
Anthony kept driving, his concern growing as Omar drummed on the dashboard or banged his head. As they neared their destination, the discordant music had to be turned down enough for directions to be given.
Omar guided them to a boxy building with a dome on top and a tower to the side.
“Ever been to a mosque before?” he asked.
Anthony shook his head. “This is a first.”
Omar remained buckled up, even after they parked. “We’ve got time,” he said, his dark eyes on the building. “My sister is in there, right now, washing Mamani.”
“What?” Anthony shut off the engine as an excuse to kill the music completely.
“Yeah,” Omar said. “Her and my mom. It’s a Muslim tradition. I uh… I’ve got some stuff I need to do too. Just roll with it, okay?”
Anthony nodded. “Of course!”
Omar shot him a glance while chewing his bottom lip. “Would you mind taking off your makeup?”
Anthony recoiled at the suggestion. “How come?”
“You know I don’t have a problem with it, but even the women here won’t be wearing any.”
Anthony considered the mosque. Then he shrugged. “Okay. I just wish you had mentioned this sooner. I wouldn’t have bothered putting it on in the school parking lot.”
“I was worried you wouldn’t want to come,” Omar replied sheepishly. “That’s why Silvia isn’t here. She didn’t like the idea of having to cover up or stand behind the men during the ceremonial stuff.”
That gave Anthony pause, but he responded with the truth. “I’d do anything for you, Omar.”
“Thanks, man. I really appreciate you being here.”
“What can I say? You’re pretty when you cry.” Sad but true. Anthony flipped down the sun visor to check his appearance. “Is there a restroom I can use?”
“You wanna go inside looking like that?”
“Unless you’d prefer to lick it off.”
Omar squirmed uncomfortably. “What about the gas station we just passed?”
Anthony sighed and turned the ignition. “This is the worst date I’ve ever been on.”
“I owe you one,” Omar said. “Whatever you want.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Anthony murmured.
Once his face had been scrubbed clean in a truly disgusting restroom, they returned to the mosque. Anthony followed his best friend into the foyer, where they removed their shoes.
“I’ve gotta go get Mamani,” Omar said, his expression difficult to read. “Wait here.” He pointed to a large carpeted room. “When they call everyone into the prayer hall, make sure you’re toward the front and um… That all the women are behind you.”
Anthony kept his expression neutral. Omar slunk away, leaving him in such exotic surroundings that he felt like he’d been transported to the Middle East. He absorbed all the details he could, in particular the ornate architecture of the building, since this also allowed him to avoid interacting with anyone directly.
That wasn’t usually an issue with Omar’s extended family, but Anthony worried about breaking rules he wasn’t aware of.
The foyer went quiet. Anthony turned and saw the crowd part.
A body shrouded in white cloth was being carried on a board covered in canvas, Omar and his father each bearing one of the foremost corners.
Blood rushed to his cheeks in the realization that no coffin was involved.
Despite being completely swaddled in cotton, the contours of Mamani’s body somehow made her death feel even more real.
As for his best friend, he was wearing a white brimless cap.
As were his father and his two uncles who had taken up the rear.
They walked into the prayer hall and were lost from view until someone announced, “You may now fill the rows.”
The men moved toward the hall. The women did not.
Anthony hesitated, part of him wanting to join the women in solidarity or simply for his own comfort, but he wasn’t here to make a statement or explore himself. His only priority was to support his best friend.
The prayer hall filled up quickly. There were no seats. Orderly rows were formed. Anthony kept his attention on Omar, who along with his relatives, set the bier down on the floor before he joined the front row.
A bearded man with an aura of authority took the front of the room and turned his back to the crowd. “Allāhu Akbar,” he called. The same sentiment was quietly repeated by the somberly dressed attendees.
Anthony waited. Nothing seemed to happen until this ritual was repeated.
“Allāhu Akbar.”
Silence reigned. Surely they were going to talk about Mamani, who she was as a person, and maybe share some personal memories… right?
“Allāhu Akbar.”
This time he repeated it with the crowd. And again on the fourth occurrence.
After another long silence, the bearded man faced the crowd.
“Brothers and sisters, may Allah accept our prayer for Sister Nasrin. Remember to continue making du?ā? for her, give charity on her behalf, and reflect on our own return to Allah. The burial is at Mid-America Muslim Cemetery. Those wishing to carry the body, please come forward. Everyone else, follow the hearse in an orderly manner.”
Omar returned to the bier that held Mamani’s body.
Anthony didn’t know what to do with himself.
The voices around him were a low murmur.
He slowly made his way to the front of the mosque and collected his shoes.
Then he stood outside, figuring that he would simply wait until all other vehicles had left before following the convoy.
“Hey.” Omar reappeared suddenly, his face flushed. “We have to go. I’m supposed to ride in the hearse but don’t want to, so we’ve gotta be right behind it.”
He didn’t wait for a response, but instead walked briskly to the car to climb inside.
“That was a really short ceremony,” Anthony said when joining him.
“Yeah.”
Omar cranked up the music. Then he pointed in the direction he wanted Anthony to drive.
They made the journey to the cemetery, Judas Priest serenading them as they followed a hearse.
Omar kept his head turned away, toward the passenger-side window, not seeming interested in engaging with him.
When they reached their destination, he hopped out of the car before Anthony had shifted into park.
He watched his best friend hurry to the hearse and exchange a few words with his father.
The back of the vehicle was opened so that Mamani’s body could be unloaded.
Unsure what to do and not wanting to rudely stare, Anthony got out of the car and spotted Omar’s mother and sister. He almost didn’t recognize them, since they were covered from head to foot, only their faces and hands exposed.
“Hi,” he said when joining them. “I’m really sorry for your loss.” After a swallow, he added, “I really loved her.”
“We all did,” Anja replied, placing a hand on his cheek. “Thank you for being here. I vividly remember my first Muslim funeral. I’m sure much of this must seem strange to you.”
“It’s traumatizing!” Yasmin complained, her arms crossed over her chest. “I can’t wait to put on my normal clothes again.”
“Hush,” Anja said softly. “This is what your grandmother would have wanted.” She returned her attention to Anthony. “What do you think so far?”
“I’m a little confused,” he admitted. “Are there any rules I should be aware of here? Do I have to stay with the men?”
“You can stand with us during the burial,” Anja said as they strolled toward the cemetery. “How is Omar holding up?”
“I’m not sure. He isn’t talking much.”
She nodded. “He barely said a thing during breakfast. I think he feels guilty for not being there when she died.”
Yasmin harrumphed. “Yeah, well he didn’t have to wash a dead body!”