Finding Mr Perfectly Fine

And deeper down, I’m ashamed because a part of me wonders if there’s truth to what she’s saying. Maybe I do behave like a drama queen. Maybe I am self-centred, so wrapped up in my own life and problems that I overlook everyone else’s.

Things at work have been really quiet. I haven’t told anyone I’m getting engaged, and since I’ve returned the ring to Hamza, no one will guess. Adam is still acting off and it’s beginning to feel as though I dreamt that night up completely or, at the very least, imagined the electrically charged emotions. I must have, because the way Adam completely switched on me makes me wonder if he ever felt anything for me at all – even as a friend.

I do see the benefits of his multiple personalities, though. If he hadn’t turned cold, a silly, stupid, immature part of me would have entertained the hope that maybe there was something special between us, and it would have messed up what was developing with Hamza.

*

The Wednesday before my official engagement party, I arrive to work earlier than the rest of my team. My phone rings as I’m walking up to my desk, and I’m surprised to see it’s Hamza.

‘Hey, what’s going on?’ I demand, as soon as I answer.

‘Salaam habibti, how are you?’ His voice sounds normal enough, but I know that something’s up.

‘Salaams. Fine. What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’s wrong. Why would you think something’s wrong?’

‘You never call me this early in the morning! You had me in panic mode, man. I thought something bad had happened!’

Hamza chuckles. ‘You’re so paranoid. I wanted to talk to you about the engagement.’

I’m pleased it’s not bad news, but I’m still on edge. I sit down at my desk and brace myself. ‘OK. What is it then?’

‘Right .?.?. so, think about what I have to say, OK? Don’t be rash.’

‘Come out with it, Hamza!’

‘OK. Um. So. You know how it’s our engagement on Saturday?’

‘Hamza! You better not be calling it off!’ I stand up abruptly, the sudden movement causing the chair to topple backwards with a crash. I leave it there as I wait with baited breath for him to continue.

‘I’m not calling it off!’ His voice is exasperated but I don’t care. Relief pours out of me and I bend down to pick up my chair so I can sink back onto it. But then he continues. ‘In fact .?.?. I was thinking .?.?. How about we do the kitaab on Saturday instead of the engagement?’

OK, now he’s thrown me again. ‘What the hell is a kitaab?’

‘You know, the katme kitaab? The Islamic marriage ceremony?’

‘What, like the nikah?’

‘Is that what you guys call it?’

‘Stay on point, Hamza!’

‘Right. So yeah. Let’s do it, habibti. Let’s do the Islamic marriage on Saturday and then do the main party later.’

Woah! My emotions swing from one side of the spectrum to the other. It was all well and good getting engaged so quickly, but actually getting married? It might not be the legal one, but for Muslims, the Islamic one is the more important ceremony and it’s really simple. You need an Imam and two witnesses, and that’s it. No making an appointment at the registry office and waiting three months for an available slot. It’s also the one that makes you married in the eyes of God. It means you can live together as man and wife, do everything together as man and .?.?. oh. I see. That’s why he wants to speed things up.

‘Hamza, is this your way of legitimising our relationship so you can get into my pants the halal way?’ I demand in righteous indignation.

‘No!’ He laughs, but I can hear the guilty undertone. ‘Filthy mind or what! I just want us to be married.’

‘Before you change your mind?’ I’m joking when I say this. Kind of. Obviously judging by my earlier reaction, it’s a very real fear of my subconscious.

‘More like before you change yours!’

I pause to think for a moment. There’s no good reason to say no, really. Aside from the fact that he still doesn’t know about .?.?. well. You know.

‘OK, let me talk to my parents and see what they think.’ I agree with hesitation.