The Perfect Girl

31

"Funny how stops it hurting for a bit,                                                                                                                                         Then something slices through it,"

Khalid finally returned home a few weeks later.  

I met him at the airport.  I remember I was really tired that day because his  flight came at 4:30 in the morning, and I had a headache.  Mostly, though, my excitement at his return had be a little too distracted to properly feel either my exhaustion or pain.                                  

When I spotted him in the airport, I ran up to him.

"As salaamu alaikum!" I said, smiling at him.

"Wa alaikum us salaam!" he grinned.

He rested his bags against the railing, and wrapped his arms around me, pecked my cheek, whispered, "God, I missed you," in my ear.

"I missed you too," I murmured.

And then we realized that we were at an airport, in the middle of a crowd of people, and began hauling his stuff to the car.  

Once we were in the car, he said, "Do you know if we're seeing my parents today?"

"I talked to Aunty Lina yesterday," I said, "They're gonna come over later today.  Not now, obviously.  Only I'm crazy enough to wake up this early for you."

He laughed, "Crazy about me."

I shook my head, grinned, "In your dreams."

"Really?" I saw him smile softly as he took his hand off the steering wheel and placed it over one of mine, "It's so sad that I'm crazy for you, then."

I started in surprise at the bluntness of his admission.

He smirked.

Silence.

"So you really cut your hair?"

"I did," I mumbled, "It was kind of an impulse."

"It looked good over camera."

"Let's hope it looks good in person."

"I don't think you could look bad in anything."

"Of course not," I said, flipping the end of my hijab.

I was pleasantly surprised by my own comment.

He looked away from the road a second, smiled at me.

***

Once we were home, I flung myself down on the couch.

"Do you want anything to eat?" I asked.

"Not really," he said, "You?"

Did I?  

Did I really want to eat?  I was hungry, but did I want to eat?  

I looked down at my still too-big stomach.

No.

"Nah," I shrugged it off.

"Okay."

I took off my hijab.

He studied my face, said, "It looks better in person," softly.

"Thanks."

He sat down next to me, opening his arms for me.  I leaned into his chest, closing my eyes against soft fabric of his shirt.  He was so strong that it made me feel strong.  He smelled of smoke and musk and sweetness, and the scent was soft but not sickly, and it was pleasant.

"So, besides cutting your hair, what did I miss?"

"Not much, honestly," I said, "I just sat around, mostly.  What about you?  How was the trip?"

"It was alright. Nothing particularly interesting.  Just work."

I pulled away from him a little, looked at him.  He looked a little tired, but mostly just like himself.  Handsome and steady and perfect.  He caught me staring at him, raised an eyebrow and smirked.  He reached his hand up, annoyingly slowly, and tucked my bang behind my ear,

"The only thing I don't like about these bangs," he whispered, "Is that they hide your eyes.  I love your eyes."

I was sure I was blushing, and it frustrated me.

He placed a kiss on my chin, each of my fingertips, a few on my palm.  

"Khalid?" I murmured.

"Yes, love?"

"I really did miss you."

"I know," he said, cocky in a moment.

I gave a him a look.

He smiled at me, "I love you."

I swallowed, "I love you too."

He pulled me closer, but not against him.  He was still holding my hand, and he held it gently, fingers trailing up it.  He raised my wrist to his lips to place kiss there.  My sleeve slipped up a little, revealing scars.

Crap.

"What the hell is this?"