The trip to Chicago was more painful than she thought.
She cried throughout the flight and only paused when she realized she couldn’t find her luggage through all the stream of tears that was making her vision blurry.
In the taxi, she wiped her blotty face with some wipes and applied some lotion, a wisp of mascara and a dab of lip gloss just so she could look presentable when she shows up at the front door of her mother’s best friend’s mansion on the Gold Coast.
Unfortunately, her mascara came running down her cheeks the moment she was wrapped in Aunty Waheeda’s warm embrace.
“It’s okay jelly bean. Hush” she cooed as she gave Hibba soft pats on her back. Hibba’s mother had texted her about it last night and she knew this was where she was coming
“It’s going to be okay” she whispered as she stroked Hibba’s hair. This lead to heavy sobs erupting from within her. Mainly because Aunty Waheeda was a good hugger and she always smelled like vanilla and also because she couldn’t remember the last time her mother had hugged her this tight and told her that everything was going to be okay.
She was set up in the guest room on the first floor. Aunty Waheeda made sure she had a nice warm bath; with bubbles and a warm mug of hot chocolate. Then she later washed her hair and made it into twelve cornrows, like always. She tucked her in bed, closed the blinds and let her sleep before she went downstairs to grab her phone so she could yell at Batool for making her jelly bean cry so hard.
Waheeda Brown (FKA Katherine Sanderson) is an African American woman who hails from Queens. She and Batool Ahmad were best friends since middle school. Actually, Batool was one of the main reasons Waheeda converted eventhough her husband Muhammad Brown (FKA Peter Brown) was also a huge influence.
The three of them all went to LaGuardia where Batool and Waheeda majored in Liberal Arts and Muhammad with in Civil Engineering. They graduated a year before him and Waheeda got a job in DC.
That was around the year that Batool lost her only surviving parent, her father. Her paternal grandparents wanted her to come stay with them in their home for a while in Kuwait and so she left. There she developed the interest of furthering her education and studied Arabic and Islamic Studies.
On her first trip back to the states after being in Kuwait for two years, she met Rabi’u Wada, a business man that captivated her mind with his gentleness and easy smile. He made her laugh throughout the flight and got her food and a nice book while they were in transit.
He carried her hand luggage all the way to baggage claim when they landed and he helped her load all her belongings on the cart. He didn’t leave the airport until he made sure she got into a taxi.
They got married a year later in a very intimate ceremony in her grandparents backyard in Mishref. None of Rabi’u Wada’s family were in attendance.
However, it was during their wedding that Waheeda and Muhammad reunited. A spark ignited during that time and they also got married few months later after they both converted to Islam.
Batool and Rabi’u traveled the world after their wedding. He eventually took her to Nigeria to meet his family. It was so-so, given that they both came from different cultural backgrounds but they made it work eventually.
He settled her in New York where she was pursuing an internship with the YA at the United Nations while he shuffled between Nigeria and the States. They were married for five years before they had Hibba.
As expected, Waheeda was there through it all, helping her take care of herself and the baby. When she went back to work, Waheeda took Hibba in because she was now a full time housewife. She was basically the one who raised her.
The fact that all her three children turned out to be boys made her love Hibba even more because she’d always wanted a daughter.
Mrs. Brown sat down on the lush sofa that was facing the glass windows showcasing a beautiful view. She tucked her socks clad feet under her legs and dialed her best friend’s number.
She answered the second ring.
“Is she there?”
Aunty Waheeda rolled her eyes. “She’s sleeping upstairs. What on earth is going on Bee? I thought this thing with R has been sorted. Is he trying to get back at you through her with this arranged marriage thing?”
Hibba’s mother pinched the bridge of her nose. “Not at all. This is bigger than me and our marriage.” She sighed and sat against the bed in her hotel room. “He is pursuing a political career”
Aunty Waheeda was genuinely confused. “Okay so….how is this related with him trying to force a marriage on Jelly bean?”
“He needs the influence. The boy is the nephew of one of the prominent families in Nigeria.”
“This is ridiculous! He is using her as a pawn? And you’re okay with this?”
Another heavy sigh as Hibba’s mother tried to relax her tired shoulders. It was 10pm in Algeirs and she needed to sleep if she didn’t want to miss her 6am flight. “At this point, there’s nothing I can do other than to pray for her. I’ve spoken with the boy’s Uncle, we’ve met a couple of times a while back, and he assured me the marriage will not hold until they both agree.”
Aunty Waheeda scoffed “Well that sounds encouraging”
“He gave me his word”
“So because he gave you his word you’re just going to sit there and watch them decide how your daughter is going to live her life? Are you listening to yourself?”
A lone tear cascaded down her cheek. She knew she’d made a lot of mistakes in her life but the biggest one was not fighting for Hibba’s custody, and she was regretting it now. Eventhough eventually when the time will come for Hibba to get married, her father will be the one to give her out, he wouldn’t do it his way when she is in her custody.
“Well I’m not going to sit here and watch him marry her off to some dude so she can be his key to fulfilling his political dreams. This is wrong on so many levels and I’m not going to allow it” Aunty Waheeda added when she realized her best friend was mute on the other end.
Now Batool was full on crying “I was never a better mother to her, but you were. I need you to do that for me one more time”
The line went dead.
When Hibba woke up hours later, she realized it was already nighttime.
In the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and rinsed out with a mouthwash. Then she washed her face. Her cornrows looked really nice in the mirror. She can’t remember the last time her hair looked this nice. It was always in a bun or a sloppy ponytail, but mostly in a beanie during this winter.
She found Aunty Waheeda and her youngest son, Bilal having dinner. Their father is currently in Saudi overseeing a major hotel construction and her two other sons, Adam and Yusuf live out of town.
“Hey Jelly Jelly” Bilal wiggled his eyebrows at her when she entered the dining room.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Stop calling me that”
“Mom calls you Jelly and I don’t get to call you jelly? How is that fair?” He pouted a little.
His mom poked him on the cheek. “Because you’re not me and she hates it when you do that.” She stood up from her chair and gestured towards Hibba. “Have a seat. Let me fix you a plate.”
Hibba stuck her tongue out at Bilal as she sat down across from him.
“You look funny” he said pushing his glasses up his nose.
“Yeah? In what way?”
“Your hair”
She touched the tips of her hair that have nestled themselves on her turtleneck clad neck. “It’s pretty huh? Your mom made them.”
“They look awful” he scrunched up his nose.
She laughed and shoved his foot under the table “Liar.”
They bantered for a while before his mother came in and send him up to do his homework.
Hibba could smell the juicy lasagna from miles away even before the food was placed before her.
Aunty Waheeda is an exceptional cook, no doubt. And despite all the efforts she’s made all these years to see that Hibba has at least learned how to make a decent PB&J sandwich, all her efforts were in vain.
Her eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head when she had the first bite. It tasted like love, no doubt. She’d been away from homemade food for such a long time she didn’t realized she’d missed the warmth and love that came with it.
After dinner, the three of them cuddled up on the couch and watched a Disney animation. Bilal whined through it all because he wanted them to watch Avatar with him. He eventually slept off before the movie even ended.
Hibba had to carry him up to his room eventhough he is a chubby kid and weighed a ton, but she did it. She knew she won’t get a change to do this in a few days when she finally goes back to her sad and little apartment.
Back in her room, she changed into her pajamas and did her nighttime skincare routine.
There were three notifications on her phone when she slipped into bed. One was from one of her friends from college reminding her of the reunion they were planning in a few weeks time, another one from Aunty Waheeda which looked like she sent it a few minutes ago saying she will always be there for her if she wanted to talk. She sent her a quick reply saying she wasn’t ready yet but she will always be the first person she runs to when she needed anything. The last message was from an unknown number.
Her heart skipped a beat when she read the contents of the message.
Hi.
How are you?
Are you free between 8-10pm GMT on Tuesday? I’d like to call so we can talk.
Abdallah L. Modibbo.
She read the message twice before a dry laughter escaped her throat.
Is this the man that her father wants to set her up with? He sounds like a robot because who talks like that? GMT? Is this a business meeting?
She was still laughing when she turned off the bedside lamp.
She will be free on Tuesday. But she won’t answer when he calls. GMT be damned.