Ayesha At Last(20)

Ayesha sighed. Typical Hafsa. Why tell the truth when an entertaining lie would do? She opened her mouth to clarify her name when her eyes slid to Khalid. He was still looking down at his hands, a block of immovable, judgmental, unsexy concrete. A sudden impulse washed over her.

Hafsa had pulled so many pranks over the years. Her cousin was always laughing and having fun while serious, responsible Ayesha was expected to do the right thing.

But her fun-loving cousin wasn’t here today. Or was she?

Khalid paused in his contemplation of the desk to look briefly at Ayesha. The expression in his eyes was disapproving, and his words to Clara rang again in her ears: I stay away from the type of Muslim who frequents bars. I have no wish to be introduced to your friend.

Ayesha smiled grimly. If he doesn’t want to be introduced to me, that can easily be arranged. A spark of exhilaration filled her with heady spontaneity.

The imam asked everyone to officially introduce themselves. When it was her turn, Ayesha didn’t hesitate. “I’m Hafsa Shamsi,” she said, trying to sound young and vacuous. “I’m an event planner, and this is, like, my first event ever! I’m so excited!”

The imam and Tarek smiled, but Khalid gave her a strange look. She ignored him and reached into her bag for her notebook, but it was gone.

The imam continued. “The youth conference will be held during the July long weekend, which leaves us with only a few months to prepare. We will have to meet at least two or three times a week to ensure our success.”

Tarek opened his MacBook and turned on the LCD projector. “I have a short presentation prepared,” he said, smiling at the group, eyes lingering on Ayesha. He talked rapidly, moving through the slides. “Our yearly summer youth conference is aimed at ages eighteen to thirty, and we try to keep the sessions as small and intimate as possible, with lots of interactive activities. The big draw is the Singles Mixer on Saturday. Last year we had over five hundred people attend, and this year we are anticipating twice that number. We have access to many well-known speakers, including Sheikh Rafeek.”

“Brother Tarek, that sounds impressive,” Khalid interrupted. “But I’m unclear as to the purpose of your organization, and why you have chosen our mosque.”

Tarek looked at Khalid for a long moment without speaking, so long the silence became uncomfortable. “Muslims in Action is a grassroots organization that partners with local mosques to raise funds and encourage young people to participate in the community,” he said eventually. “Imam Abdul Bari tells me most of your congregation are middle-aged and senior citizens. It’s time to attract the next generation.”

When the slideshow concluded, Imam Abdul Bari leaned close to Tarek to confer quietly with him for several minutes. Khalid used the opportunity to discreetly slide the purple notebook to Ayesha.

“I apologize for my rudeness in the prayer hall,” he said in a low voice. “I assure you, it is not my habit to watch women sleep inside the mosque. Though to be fair, there usually aren’t any to watch.” Khalid smiled slightly.

“Is that a joke?” Ayesha said, grabbing the notebook. “Someone who looks like you should avoid humour. You’ll only confuse people.”

“And someone who dresses as you do should not frequent a bar,” Khalid said. “Hijab and alcohol don’t mix.”

“It’s a lounge, not a bar, and I could say the same of you. What were you even doing at Bella’s? Designated driver?”

“I was attempting to socialize with my work colleagues. However, the experience was not pleasant. I will not be returning.”

“Bella’s will be lost without you,” Ayesha snapped.

“I suggest you do likewise. You don’t want to attract the wrong type of attention,” Khalid said, thinking of Mo and his comments.

Ayesha was furious now. “Maybe that’s the whole point, Khalid. Maybe I like to stick out. You should know all about that—you’re the one walking around in bedsheets.”

Khalid’s head was lowered, but she could see his lips twitch. Was he laughing at her?

“You are free to do as you please,” Khalid said after a beat. “I was simply trying to look out for a fellow Muslim, Hafsa.”

Ayesha flushed with embarrassment. She’d been trying to have some harmless fun with her “Hafsa” impersonation but now she found herself arguing with Khalid. Why couldn’t she just let him be? It was not as if she cared what he thought of her.

She gathered her bag and notebook and left the room. She had no plans to return to this stupid conference committee with its stupid, judgmental peeping Tom. Sulaiman Mamu could find another babysitter for the Real Hafsa.

KHALID was about to leave when Tarek stopped him.

“Brother Khalid, right?” Tarek smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “You look so familiar.”

“I’m at the mosque a lot,” Khalid said. He wanted to follow Hafsa and apologize again for staring at her in the prayer hall. Though he had limited experience with women, Khalid could tell when he had pissed one off. He didn’t want her to be angry with him, since they would be working so closely on the conference.

Tarek shook his head. “I don’t live in the area, but I feel as if I know you. This is going to bug me.” He scrunched his face, thinking hard. “Wait. Do you have a sister?”