The Perfect Girl

10

"He watches her shoulders slope, Like maybe they've given up hope,"

Khalid's POV

I helped Shuayb lug the coal back into the shed, then sat down.

I was in an awkward place in this particular environment.  I was significantly younger than Amar and significantly older than his cousins, and so I had no one who I could comfortably talk to.  It was more just listening, listening to the bits of different conversations.

I could hear my mother talking to Hiba, could hear her replies.

Hiba had a voice that sort of reminded me of chocolate.  Mostly melted milk chocolate, sweet and warm and inviting and soft.  Sometimes, it was semi-sweet, a little bitter, but still warm and soft.  Once in a while, when someone said something stupid or looked at her funny it turned to dark, refrigerated chocolate, all bitter and not at all sweet, angry at nobody and everything, hard. 

When she was really furious, you could always tell.  There was a whisper to her voice, like ice water been poured into it, cooling it and sending steam into the air.  Quiet, barely contained anger, the most dangerous kind.  It was an obvious change, so that anyone smart enough would know to walk away, to step back, to stop doing whatever idiotic thing they had been and back off.  But the other changes were subtle, just a difference in the way she pronounced letters and words or how soft or loud it was.

Right now, her voice was semi-sweet, an exhausted, suppressed sort of fury in her voice, a sharpness to her t's and a flatness to her o's.  When my mum turned away from her, I saw her face relax, her jaw slackening then tightening.

And it was then, in the quiet, that I realized that I needed to look away and so I did, I turned back to the boys and tried to focus on their conversation.

All I could think about though, was the way Hiba looked in that single moment before I turned away, the brittleness of her expression. 

I was still surprised that Hiba had managed to keep the toolbox up until I came.   It had taken an incredible amount of effort to push the box back up on the shelf, and the fact that it hadn't crushed her amazed me. 

She didn't look very strong, though certainly not very weak either.  But she was not particularly tall, and sort of small, and today she looked so tired, frail because of her exhaustion.

She was not acting the way she usually did, none of the sweet talkativeness I associated with milk chocolate.  She wasn't talking to Jana, which concerned me because I knew they were close.  Jana could never stop talking about her, which was half the reason why I knew so much about her.

It might have also had to do with the fact that I paid too much attention to everything she said about her.

***

"Are you free tomorrow, Khalid?" Ami asked when we got in the car to leave.

"I have a few calls," I replied, "But I am in the evening."

"Good," Abu said, voice deep and a little awkward, "Your mother and I want to have a talk with you inshallah."

"About what?" I couldn't help asking, even though I had little hope of an answer.

It surprised me when Ami did answer, "Marriage."

"Huh?" I exclaimed, wondering if I'd heard wrong.

"Lina..." Abu groaned, "Now he's going to conveniently book his calls so he can't talk."

I chuckled, "Maybe I will.  What do you mean, marriage?"

"You're 23 years old, Khalid," Ami said.

"And...?"

"You need to start looking for someone."

"Why do I feel like you've already found someone?" I demanded, apprehensive.

"Maybe we have." Ami shrugged, a smug smile at her lips.

Crap.