Chapter 18 Samir
Iwas still daydreaming about Cole on Friday—two days after our unusual date—and even more so about the kiss.
Of course he’d only kissed me on the cheek, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t left a lasting impression on my mind and my flesh. If I closed my eyes hard enough and focused on that memory, I could feel him kiss me all over again.
I’m so pathetic.
Who else would fawn over a chaste kiss as if it were a forever promise?
And yet I didn’t care. I mean, I did care, because it was things like that—obsessing over small things—that could get me into even more trouble, but I was pretty sure if I was daydreaming about Cole, then I was already too far gone to care about falling for him.
It’d be a wonder if I got through all twelve dates unscathed.
Even during prayer, it was hard to put him in the back of my mind and focus, but I tried not to linger on that. After all, not every prayer was the same, and it wouldn’t be the first time I was distracted.
Yet the more I prayed, the more at peace with myself and my feelings I felt.
Which wasn’t all that unusual, but it did reinforce my determination to attend the Mosque more regularly.
There was something about praying with everyone else, guided by the imam’s melodic voice and feeling the energy in the room build up to a serene heat that encompassed us all in His embrace.
It was no wonder that by the time we were done, I felt better than I’d felt in days.
I hadn’t forgotten about the kiss, or my complicated feelings about it, but I knew I’d figure it all out in time.
I started to make my way toward the front room when a couple of uncles caught up with me and stepped right in my path.
“Samir,” said one of them, Mr. Haroun.
“Uncle,” I replied.
“How are you doing, son? All good?” asked the other uncle. Mr. Abdul.
I nodded.
“Sure. Why?”
Mr. Haroun shrugged.
“It’s nothing. We’re just a little concerned.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Concerned, why? What happened?”
“Some people saw you the other day,” Mr. Abdul said. “Kissing a man.”
I grimaced.
“Okay. And?” I asked.
“Nothing. We’re just saying,” Mr. Haroun said.
“Saying what?”
“We… wouldn’t want Zainab to hear about it. What would she think?” Mr. Abdul said.
“Oh, give it a break, you two,” someone said behind me, and I turned to find Imam Rajab.
“Imam Sahib,” I said with a dip of my head.
“Hello, Samir. Haroun, Abdul, are you two gossiping by any chance?” Imam Rajab said, raising an eyebrow.
“No,” Mr. Haroun said.
“We’re just concerned,” Mr. Abdul said.
“About?”
The two uncles stayed quiet.
“First of all, what Samir does is no one’s business but his and Allah’s.
Second of all, how many times do we have to say it before you get it?
Samir and Zainab are divorced. They’re no longer together.
Zainab even has a girlfriend. So stop bothering Samir and spreading whatever concern you think you have and let the man be.
Gossip is haram. You wouldn’t want to be caught gossiping, now, would you? ”
The uncles shook their heads and apologized to the imam before making their exit, and I was left alone with him.
“Are you okay?”
I glanced at the uncles practically running with their tails between their legs and nodded.
“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m used to those two by now.”
“But you shouldn’t. It’s not nice what they’re doing. I’ll have another talk with them next time I see them.”
“Oh no, it’s okay.”
The imam shook his head and put a hand on my shoulder.
“It’s not. Don’t worry. They’ll listen to me.” He smiled, and I couldn’t help but reciprocate. “How are you? Is it true? Are you dating someone?”
I pursed my lips and glanced back at Imam Rajab.
“I thought gossiping is haram.” I chuckled.
The imam gasped.
“I’m simply taking interest in one of my brothers.”
“Well,” I said, “if it’s an interest. I am… sort of dating someone. It’s complicated.”
“Well, then. Uncomplicate it for me.”
I took a deep breath and told him about the auction, the arrangement, and the dates. It felt like I did so in one single breath because I was panting when I finished, which entertained the imam more.
“Hmm. I might not agree with Zainab’s ways, but I’m glad you stepped out of your comfort zone and decided to live a little.”
“I was living before,” I complained.
“Yes, you were.” He chuckled. “But you were stuck, weren’t you? Zainab moved on, she’s happy and all, and you…”
“I’m happy!”
Had I given him the impression I wasn’t happy with my life?
“Maybe you were. But you’re stagnant. And how happy can stagnation make you?”
I opened my mouth to protest, but his words rang true so there was nothing to contradict.
Maybe I had been stuck. But it didn’t mean I wasn’t anymore.
“I mean, it’s just dating. It doesn’t mean he’s the love of my life or anything,” I said.
“Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t. You won’t know unless you get to know him and spend time together.”
I sighed.
“But he’s so much younger. And he has a kid. I’m sure he doesn’t want an old man whose whole life revolves around cats and books.”
Imam Rajab grimaced.
“Have you asked him?”
“Ask him what?” I scoffed. “If he would want me?”
The imam nodded.
“Of course not. That’s too forward.”
He laughed. “And being forward is bad?”
I shrugged.
“There’s nothing wrong with asking for clarity.
With being true to yourself and wanting to be on the same page with him.
And as for being too old or him being too young and all that, you do know partnerships are not made to fit like two puzzle pieces, right?
Human relationships are complicated. That’s what makes them so difficult to navigate but also so rewarding. ”
“But what if I get too attached and he doesn’t want me the same way? What if he changes his mind? What if he decides I’m not the best option for him and his daughter?”
The imam considered for a moment before he took my hands and gave them a squeeze.
“What if you change your mind? What if you wake up tomorrow, or next month, or next year and you realize you’ve made a mistake? That he’s not right for you?”
I frowned.
“I’m… I’m not sure I understand.”
“Samir, my boy, all I’m trying to say is we don’t have all the answers.
No one does but Allah. You won’t know what you don’t know unless you put yourself out there.
Give your heart and soul to someone. Yeah, you might get hurt, but that’s just life.
But you might also be rewarded with everything you’ve ever dreamed of. ”
I stared at him, at his kind brown eyes, and forgot how to breathe because I was too busy processing what he’d said.
I didn’t think I’d ever had Imam Rajab be so open and vulnerable with me. And I didn’t think I had ever been so vulnerable with him.
“So… you think I should give Cole a chance. Like, a real chance?”
The imam smiled.
“I think you’ll be kicking yourself in the behind if you don’t. It’s better to try and fail than to never have tried at all.”
And with those words, he patted my hands, and I thanked him, then he walked away, leaving me with twice the sense of peace I’d felt after the prayer.
Peace and determination.
Maybe Cole was my one. Maybe he wasn’t. I wouldn’t find out unless I put myself out there and risked my heart, and my confidence, getting broken.
But I had to try. Imam Rajab was right.
Which was why, after I came out of the Mosque, I messaged Cole to ask him on another date.
And he immediately said yes.