A WALK TO THE PARTY

★★★★★

It had been two days since Kulthum was able to convince my mum to let us attend the party. I didn't know how she pulled it off but I was glad she made it happen as promised. At first, Mother had protested against it which was only natural because she was my African mum. African parents! You can't live with them and you can't live without them. She made us swear to meet her conditions for letting us off the hook.

It was Friday, the sun was up in the sky as always sending glorious rays down to earth. I and the girls were about to go through our normal Friday routine where we would have our nails done, fix our hair, and polish our skin at some fabulous spa in preparation for the next day's event. Just kidding, there wasn't any fabulous spa. It was just me and my girlfriends alone at the apartment just enjoying the Friday miracle. Fridays were visiting days for my mother so she went out in the company of Teslim and her kids to see some friends.

Salma had made it clear that she wouldn't attend the party right from the onset since her father wouldn't want to see her there in the first place. So, it was just me and Kulthum that would go with Imran. However it was over there, me and the girls didn't want to go looking ugly so we decided to come through with a home spa.

It wasn't necessarily a Jacuzzi kind of spa by the way. Salma had mixed turmeric, glycerin, and some other organic ingredients in a container and we applied it on our faces, waited for the effect to take place, then went on to have a warm bath. That was how we survived since we were dead broke and couldn't afford a spa.

Once done, we didn't have much to do so we just lazed around, had some girly talk, and my friends as usual went online searching for the hottest boys on Instagram. This went on for a while until it was Jumu'ah time and we headed out in a group to the Masjid along with some of our neighbors and a couple of kids in the yard.

Later that evening Kulthum received a call from her mother, asking her to come home the next morning. Her older brother, Yusuf had fallen ill and was admitted to a nearby hospital. Upon hearing the news we couldn't wait till the next day because his condition was critical and Umm-Kulthum needed someone to help run her errands. My mother suggested that Salma, kulthum, and I go stay with her at the hospital.

Salma had driven us to the hospital in her car. Luckily for us, it was the hospital where my mother worked. I knew my way around the place so we didn't get into trouble looking for the ward where Yusuf had been placed under observation.

*****

On Saturday morning by nine O'clock, we drove back to the apartment once the sun had come out of its hiding place. I was considering whether to go on with my plan to attend the party with Imran because I was worried about my friend whose brother was in a coma. I saw him the previous day before he went into Coma. He looked like a traumatized wizened old man. Wallah! The sight was agonizing. I could tell by just a single glance at him that he was going through an excruciating pain.

Salma had encouraged me that morning, telling me how it was important to honour Imran's invitation but honestly, I had lost interest and I didn't even know what to wear to the party. Most of the clothes in my closet were abayas, native attire, and casual outfits.

When the time was thirty minutes past six at sunset I had already dressed up in a simple brocade gown, my usual ceremonial attire. I liked simple and free outfits because they helped to conceal my lithe figure. Sometimes I felt a little insecure about my small height and how Kulthum and Salma would mock me over it.

I was about to roll on my veil when a voice came from behind me. It was my mother, she had been standing by the door, watching me as I got ready.

"You are wearing that to a party?"My mother asked, furrowing her eyebrows at me in disappointment.

"Is anything wrong with my clothes?"My eyes darted all over my gown, hoping there was no hole in it.

"You are going to a party, not a wedding." She said as she approached me, using one hand to hoist up her wrapper while the other hand adjusted her hijab properly on her head."You should wear something that makes you look more elegant," She added, stopping right in front of me.

She confused me a lot. She had a better fashion sense, even though she was more religious than I was. When it came to fashion I was always running to Salma for help because she had a doctorate in that field. Where was Salma when you needed her?

"But mama, what is wrong with what I'm wearing?" I whined as I glanced at my reflection in the mirror.

"Everything!" She said, turning towards my closet. I was still checking out myself in the mirror while Umma flipped through my clothes. Suddenly she pulled out a long black dress from my wardrobe.

"Nice!" She smiled in delight. "You can never go wrong with black. It is always so elegant. Here, put this on." She instructed, handing me the shimmering black material and I hesitated for a moment, wondering why she had to pick out that particular dress for me.

That was the same dress she bought for me and I was supposed to wear it on the day of my valedictory service. I didn't because I had to wear the one my father gave to me. I was indecisive at first, but the graduating class dress code for the ceremony was blue and my father got me the best Royal blue dress.

"I'm not wearing that." I blurted in disapproval, thinking that the gown would cling to my body and I might end up feeling uncomfortable. If I was going to wear that thing, I'd need a knee-length khimar to cover my backside.

"And why is that?"She arched her brows at me.

"It's funny how you want me to dress in black to a party when it's not a funeral." I grabbed hold of the dress and began to examine it carefully since I had never worn it. I realized It was still new.

"You haven't even worn it to see how you look in it. To think I spent so much to get you this dress. Do you even know how much it cost me?"Her voice was full of disappointment and for a moment I felt sad for her because I knew she was trying her best to make me happy.

"Alright, I'll put it on." I sighed "If that will make you happy." The least I could do was appreciate her efforts and I thought I heard her mutter something incoherently under her breath.

At that instant, I took off my previous outfit and slipped on the new dress. It was a fish-tale gown with a turtleneck and long pencil sleeves. To my greatest surprise, I looked gorgeous in the dress even though I didn't like that it hugged my skin.

"How do I look?" I asked her as I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, running my hand over the sturdy fabric, feeling its texture.

"You look great." She simply complimented me, fastening the zip behind me.

"It's s beautiful," I admitted, lowering my face in abashment. I could hear her chuckle at my expense. She must have seen the shame in my eyes through the mirror.

The moment I turned around I saw a different look in her eyes. Was it sadness? No, it was insecurity, uncertainty, and discontent. I tried to pretend like I didn't just see that expression on her face but my mouth betrayed me.

"Mum? What is it?" She threw a hand on my shoulder.

"Be careful," She gave me a wistful smile.

"Don't worry Umma, Imran is just a friend. We won't do anything stupid."

"I'm not worried about Imran. Don't just do anything that will jeopardize your future. Compose yourself when you get there. Remember you're going to be in the company of the highs and mighties. You don't want to ruin our family name." I wasn't sure if that was a warning or a piece of advice.

"Don't worry ma. I'll try not to embarrass myself if that is what you mean." I stifled a smile. I saw what she did there, the way she was being careful with her words so they didn't hit a different meaning.

"There'll come a time in your life for you to make some important decisions and do you know what you can't be thinking at that moment?" She asked looking straight into my eyes and I shook my head in reply, averting my gaze from hers. She turned my face to meet her eyes in a way that meant she wanted me to look into her eyes as she spoke to me. I was tense and nervous for some unnatural reason.

"You can't be thinking of making a single mistake then because one tiny mistake could be the end of everything. At that moment you'll begin to appreciate the importance of having limited options because having too many of them can easily give room for making a wrong decision." Those were strong words. I couldn't decipher the meaning behind them.

"You're getting me all confused and worried here." That was what I simply managed to say.

"There's more to you than you know. Don't worry, at the end of the day you will be fine." She said plainly and disappeared, leaving me in bewilderment.

*****

Salma and Imran were discussing something in our parlor when I got out of my room, I stood in the stairway briefly glancing at them. I heard them talking about Death Note, a Japanese anime. Salma was emphasizing how she disliked the fact that her favorite character, L died way too early. I too didn't like it. So I followed the series up until the episode where the detective died because I was too mad to continue. I remembered secretly crying under my blanket as I watched that scene.

Salma and Imran did have a lot in common. They both were majoring in the same course area-computer engineering. So anytime they were together they were always talking about computers, mangas, and anime.

My mother suggested that I apply some makeup on my face before coming down. Normally I would decide against it but something inside me wanted me to go out of my way to look extra good.

For ages hadn't had any makeup on, I didn't even remember the last time I had Kohl in my eyes. I had to search every nook and cranny of my room for my makeup kit. Salma came up to my room and helped adjust my headscarf.

Umma had later joined him in the living room while Salma did my makeup upstairs. It was a light one with nude lipstick.

"Salaam alaikum," I greeted, walking down the flight of stairs in my stiletto heels, which were at least four inches high.

"Wa alaikum salaam," My mother and Imran reciprocated in unison, both of them sitting across from each other by the corner of the room like mother and son. Mum sat in her recliner while Imran sat in an armchair. I wondered what both of them were talking about in that position before I interrupted.

"Hey, you're ready." Imran sent me a warm smile and I couldn't help but return one and watched as he struggled to keep his eyes on me.

He shifted his gaze from me to my mother, who was about to stand up to excuse herself when I got closer. She headed towards her room and then stopped halfway across the parlor and turned towards me. She gave me a look that signaled 'Be careful'. I didn't know if she had a gut feeling that something bad was going to happen to me.

"Be sure to come home early." That was a warning and one of the conditions I had promised to meet before she could give me her approval to attend this party.

"I will. I don't eat my words."I said and rolled my eyes at her because I thought she'd repeated those words for the hundredth. I was thankful that Imran didn't see that because he was too busy looking anywhere but at me, probably trying to lower his gaze.

When Mother was finally out of sight, Imran stood up in front of me, a few inches apart.

"Shall we?" He gesticulated like the gentleman that he truly was, dressed in a black tuxedo suit and a fine red bowtie with shining black loafers. His curly short hair blended with his narrow beard that ran along his jawline. I had always adored his looks but it seemed to me that he kept looking better each time I saw him. Maybe I should lower my gaze too.

"Sure" I nodded and followed as he led the way.

"You know, I didn't think you were going to come. How were you able to convince Umma?" He asked as soon as we got in the car and pulled out of the parking space.

"I don't know. She just changed her mind, all thanks to Kulthum." I smiled.

"See, I told you she'd come around."

"No, you didn't. You tried to discourage me. Anyways, it is not by my power that I'm here. I almost changed my mind." I said, my mind momentarily drifting back to what had happened the night before, an image of Yusuf lying pale on the hospital bed flashed before my eyes. Kulthum should have been here, she could be sharing in this conversation too.

"Almost doesn't count," He chuckled, oblivious to the meaning behind my words.

The butterflies in my stomach danced around as I anticipated what was to come. I liked the way I felt each time I turned to look at Imran. The both of us could easily pass for a couple. I didn't know why I was thinking in that direction. This could be what my mother was trying to warn me about.

We started talking about random things during the drive until he pulled up in front of an enormous mansion and began to honk his car. The gatekeeper came to open the large metallic gate and he drove into the large compound.

It was already evening and it was supposedly dark but I managed to take in the view of the surroundings as bright light emitted from every corner of the house. The house was a massive three-storey building with a pool. It was made of glass and the walls were painted in greyish white which gave it a classic appearance. The building was awe-inspiring in size and design.

I thought we drove past a garden when Imran drove into the garage. I was mesmerized by the number of exotic cars that were aligned in the parking space and I felt that I was already stressing my eyes to see their brand names. He parked the car next to a white Lamborghini.

"You look beautiful in black," He said to me when we stepped onto the lawn with a small smile playing on his lips. My heart fluttered at the sound of his deep voice.

"Thank you," I tried not to act shyly. There was a sudden fuzzy feeling building up in the pit of my stomach."And you look great," I said in a whisper, trying to restrain myself from turning pink.

"Are you blushing? '' I heard his voice and in a heartbeat, I realized that my face was in my palm.

"Oh please, stop embarrassing me," I said jokingly and started to walk away, trying to hide my embarrassment and I heard him chuckle behind me. I felt my heartbeat quickening.

I wasn't sure about my feelings and I didn't know what made me feel that way toward him. All I knew was that he had a great sense of humor, supposedly good-looking, from an aristocratic family, intelligent, warm-hearted, and a lot of other marvelous things, none of which meant much to me. Certainly not the fact that he was from a very wealthy home, but somewhere in my heart I knew that I liked him for the sake of Allah and not for any extra reason.

I knew he had a thing for me but I was not ready to hear those words, not when none of us was prepared for marriage. We were young and struggling with our academics and my little heart could not do more than pump blood.

"Come, let's go in." He gestured his hands at me. We made our way through the main door into the massive structure that looked rather like a luxurious hotel. The interior was breathtaking. Everything inside the building looked expensive and new.

Heading up a long flight of stairs he said to me, "This house belongs to my elder brother. The party was to take place in our family house. But Zayn wanted it here." Telling me this made me feel very significant because I didn't have to ask. He just opened up to me. The trust was mutual.

"Why did he change the venue?" I asked, walking side-by-side with him and making sure not to touch him. But Imran wouldn't have it, his hand found its way to lock with mine. I desperately wanted to pull away, but then he was my childhood friend and it felt almost normal.

"He didn't say. Maybe he has his reasons. But whatever the reasons may be, I'm glad because I have something I want to show you after the party." He grinned. I was excited and couldn't wait to see what he was going to show me.

"What's that?"

"Not to worry, you'll see. It's my little surprise"

We walked into a large room abuzz with animated chatter of people drinking as they mingled in ostentatious outfits, which I found strangely irritating but nice by the way. I lifted my gaze from one person to the other, everyone seemed completely at ease in a grandiose setting; The room was alive with beautiful antique furniture, enormous chandeliers hung from the ceiling and curtains cascaded down the bay windows.

Imran stood by my side as we watched male servants in fine red waistcoats worn over white long sleeves and black trousers wove through the room, balancing silver trays on their hands. One stopped to offer Imran a glass of wine, which he accepted.

"Care for a drink?" He asked and handed a drink to me.

I took it and drank from it. It was non-alcoholic wine, it tasted like sour grapes. I had never tasted wine before. That was my first time and that was the best description I could come up with.

My eyes scanned the room and I spotted a certain group of attractive men. There were four of them and they appeared very elegant in their style of dressing. My gaze shifted to a very handsome man with an olive-toned complexion and a pointy nose like that of an Arab man. He sat tall on the extreme of the couch, looking very distinguished from the others in his white tuxedo suit. He crossed one leg over the other, his dark long hair resting just above his shoulders, and By God! He was gorgeous.

"He's terribly good-looking, isn't he?" Imran said, bringing me out of my reverie. I hadn't realized that he caught me staring at the young man and I thought I spotted something that looked like a diamond ring as he gesticulated while he spoke.

"Apparently, he is." I looked away, taking the wine glass to my mouth. He looked Indian, possibly Arabic, though he was olive-skinned. Maybe he was one of Zayn's friends from the States. Whoever he was, he was a man of exquisite taste. I liked his white tux which was the first thing that caught my attention by the way.

"Yeah, that's my brother and his little cliché." He said looking directly at the man as he took a sip from his wine and I almost spat out the one in my mouth back in my glass.

"Shut up! Is that the Zayn you talk about all the time?" I couldn't contain my astonishment. I didn't mean to sound so absurd though, but I had imagined him with a dusky complexion. He looked younger than his age. Imran had told me that he was a little above twenty-six, but to me, he was looking more like twenty-two years old.

"Are you surprised?" He chuckled.

"Not really, just that he looks way younger than I expected. And you said Zayn is a doctor?" I had to ask so I could get my facts right, still trying to contain my bewilderment.

"Yes, he is a surgeon." He took another sip from his glass.

"Oh, he doesn't look like one." Zayn being a doctor, I was expecting him to look more like a nerd than he naturally wasn't right at that moment. With all those years in medical school, he still had the time to take care of himself and look that good. I mean, what sort of surgeon wore rings and kept long hair?

"One doesn't have to look like his profession, does one?" He questioned and I fought the urge to laugh.

"Not really" I glanced at the young man and Imran and took note of the slightest difference between both of them. Zayn was obviously better looking in his white suit but not any younger than Imran even though he had a clean shave. His full eyebrows were made into a perfect arch. Imran had curly afro hair and a darker complexion.

I tried not to allow my mind to linger on his features, but it was hard not to. Zayn had those sharp dark eyes, the kind that had me drowning in them. I decided to look away before Imran caught me staring again.

★★★★★

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