wallah 6ila3 efeed feekom eltahdeed.. :P lay5if el7amas al7een.. the financial crisis have left me with no work so expect more posts.. :)i tried to make this post as long as possible.. so hope you enjoy it..!! ——————————————…

wish you all a great year, may all the dreams and wishes you’re carrying from 2008 come true this time.thank you for keeping me motivated and inspired, your comments are what makes me go on. keep Beeping ;)———————————————-…

Around 11 pm, we left the New Year’s party at the in-laws’ house. Mansour kept signaling for me to go to the designated meeting point in his parents’ house so that we could make an unnoticeable getaway to another party he said that was being hosted by some of his colleagues.
Nadia , my sister-in-law, winked [...]

Mbarak dialed Wahab’s number frantically until he’d finally picked up. “Whayeb, bser3a. T3aref wa7id isma A7med Il-Flani?”
“A7med Il-Flani?” Wahab repeated, humming as he tried to remember where he’d heard that name before.
“Wahab, 5ale9ni!” Mbarak yelled, “T3arfa wala la2??”
”Ya5i shfeek? 6awil balik! A7medo Il-Flani mo rifeej 3laiwi?” Wahab asked Mbarak for reference.
“Ay 3laiwi? 3laiwi ma ‘3aira?” Mbarak’s eyes widened. How could a guy like 3ali befriend someone as trashy as A7med? 3ali was honest; also nosey, but honest nonetheless.
“Ee. Dig 3alaih oo es2ala,” Wahab advised, “Laish sh9ayer?”
“Magdar adig 3alaih wagoolla! Il-salfa t5e9 Jawhara,” Mbarak crinkled his brow, tapping a pen nervously on his bedside table. He briefly described the situation that had occurred with Jawhara and A7med earlier, and Wahab was extremely shocked.
“Imsawi nafsa rayal ya3ni, yimid eeda 3ala bint?” Wahab asked rhetorically, feeling Mbarak’s frustration.
“Adri. Bes ana a3alma, hal 7aywan,” Mbarak shook his head. He was hoping Wahab would have A7med’s number, but Mbarak came up with the idea of Wahab getting the number for him.
“Shloon ya3ni? Adig 3ala 3laiwi?” Wahab inquired, praying that 3ali wouldn’t interrogate him as to why he wanted A7med’s number.
“Dig, dig 3alaih,” Mbarak rambled, “Dig 3alaih oo digli; yalla bye.”
Before Wahab could get a chance to say anything else, the line disconnected and he was left staring at his phone. Wahab searched through his contacts for 3ali’s number, but when he called, he was greeted with the Call Waiting automated response. He figured he’d hang up and wait till 3ali called him back, but after long moments of waiting, 3ali never called back. Ten minutes later, Wahab redialed 3ali’s number, and much to his annoyance, 3ali’s phone rang.

“Ha 3laiwi,” Wahab spoke jokingly, trying to ease the tension that was building up inside of him.
“Hala, hala walla,” 3ali spoke dryly, making Wahab instantly regret calling him. “Sha5barik?”
“B5air, walla, inta shloonik?” Wahab smiled, leaning against his desk and gripping the tabletop with his free hand.
“Tamam,” 3ali replied, taking a long drag of his cigarette. Wahab heard 3ali suck his breath before he said, “Shba’3ait Whayeb?”
Wahab was taken aback by the way 3ali was talking; they were not the best of friends but they were on relatively good terms. Wahab frowned and thumbed his palm on the table top. “3indik raqam A7med Il-Flani?”
A long pause followed, unsettling Wahab. “Laish, shba’3ait minna?” 3ali replied defensively.
“Bes kint bas2ila cham sha’3la. 3indik raqma?” Wahab repeated irritabley.
”Ee 3indiyaah, bes sh7aga?” 3ali pressed. It was so like him to be nosey, wanting to know every detail of every situation that happened with his friends.
“Yuba 3a6niyaah wagoolik!” Wahab cried, his eyes widening at 3ali’s unbelievable nosiness. Satisfied with Wahab’s reply, 3ali gave in and rattled off A7med’s number to Wahab, who scribbled it down on the top of his notepad. “Mashkoor,” Wahab smiled as he wrote down the last digits. He hung up and called Mbarak, who picked up almost immediately.
“3a6niyaah,” Mbarak frowned, positioning a pencil on the top of his bedside table. His bedside table was covered with doodles and phone numbers of people he was too lazy to save in his mobile’s contacts. As Wahab recited the numbers, Mbarak etched them onto the table top so hard that the lead crumbled under the pressure. The tiny lead flecks sat patiently on top of the large thick numbers, waiting for Mbarak to brush them off with the side of his palm as he usually did. But this time, he didn’t. He hung up from Wahab and immediately called Mish3al, who worked at the local police station.
Mish3al and Mbarak had been friends for a long time – the kind of friends that drifted apart, but when they contacted one another, it was as if they never separated at all. Mish3al was loyal and always kept his word, which is why Mbarak turned to him in such situations.
“Halaaa, Bu Fahad!” Mish3al’s cheerful voice never failed to put a smile on Mbarak’s face.
“Hala hala, Bu Bader,” Mbarak returned the greeting followed by an exchange of the usual formalities. After they’d made small talk, Mish3al asked him what he’d needed. “Bu Bader, ma 3alaik amer; 3indi raqam wa7id mo metrabbi em2athi wa7da a3arefha.”
Mish3al sat in his small office at the police station, surrounded by stark white walls and a flickering neon light hanging above his head. “3a6ni ilraqam wilisim oo may9eer 5a6rik illa 6ayeb,” he smiled. Mish3al, a father of a son and a daughter, had zero tolerance for guys who bothered or harassed girls. Every time he’d hear of such a case, he made it a point to take extreme measures to punish the harasser, thinking of how he’d never want his little girl to be harmed.
“Raqma 9954… Oo isma A7med Il-Flani,” Mbarak fumed when mentioning his name.
“A7med Il-Flani,” Mish3al repeated as he jotted down A7med’s information. “Hatha cham 3umra?”
“Shdarani 3anna; yahel,” Mbarak frowned, “Mshai3el tikfa; illaila.”
”Tamer amer, 7abeebi,” Mish3al smiled, and as soon as he hung up, he began typing A7med’s name into the computer’s directory system. Several numbers and addresses appeared on the bright cobalt blue screen, and after finding A7med’s number among them, Mish3al began writing down his address and making a few phone calls.

Jawhara lay on her bed, still in her fleece sweatpants and sweater, feeling downhearted and tired. Her hair became stringy from all the tears and the strands clung to the side of her face and her cheeks. She pushed her hair off her face and took a deep breath, dialing Mbarak’s number one last time. ‘If he doesn’t pick up this time, I’m just gonna go to sleep,’ she thought to herself.
For the first time in the past hour, Mbarak’s phone rang without a busy tone and without a call waiting response. Within the first two rings, he picked up. Jawhara’s heart thumped as she mumbled, “Aloo?”
“7abeebti Jojo,” Mbarak beamed into the phone, “Laish ma nimtay?”
“Laish ma nimt?” Jawhara repeated, feeling a little irritated by his question, “Obviously I’m upset; ya3ni ma a3aref anam wana methayga, oo ba3dain you know I can’t sleep without hearing your voice.”
“7ayaaaati,” Mbarak sang, “Kani; I’m not going anywhere. Oo ba3dain la tethayegain. Hal 7mar mara7 yi2atheech ever again.”
“Inta shsawait?” Jawhara inquired, kicking off her thick sweatpants and staying in her leggings. She liked to wear leggings or tights under her sweatpants in the winter because they warmed her even more.
“Ana ma sawait shay; just made a couple of phone calls. Someone else is gonna take care of hal7aywan. Mara7 awase5 eedi 3ala hal ashkal.”
Jawhara blushed; Mbarak was like her knight in shining armor. She didn’t know how A7med was going to be “taken care of”, but she knew that no matter what, Mbarak would be by her side. “Thank you, Barooki.”
“Don’t thank me,” Mbarak stretched his arm and tucked it behind his head. “Intay namay, 7abeebti; ana banam ba3ad. Itha tabeen shay digeeli ok?”
“Inshalla, 7abeebi,” Jawhara smiled, feeling her skin tighten around her mouth.
“Oob, ‘7abeebi’! Yideeda hathi,” Mbarak grinned.
“You don’t like it?” Jawhara giggled, feeling her face get hot.
“No..,” Mbarak began, and Jawhara’s heart sank. “I love it.”
Jawhara’s face lit up for the first time in hours, and they wished each other a good night and pleasant dreams. After they’d hung up, Jawhara washed up and prayed for a better day tomorrow.
Mbarak turned onto his side, reaching out to switch off his lampshade. He stared at the dark numbers that he’d recently written onto his bedside tabletop and noticed the tiny bits of crumbled lead. With a sigh, he swiped the side of his palm against the surface, brushing away the lead granules, turned off the lampshade and went to sleep.

A faint police siren sounded in the distance as A7med sat near his bedroom window, puffing on a cigarette. He never usually smoked inside the house, but since his parents were on a long trip, A7med had turned the house inside out. The nanny scoured the rooms everyday, trying to re-order everything that A7med had misplaced, and burning frankincense whenever he’d have his friends over for snacks and smokes.
Much to his surprise, the police siren came closer until he could actually see two police cars pulling into the fireej where he lived.
With a menacing smile, A7med perched up onto his bed and leaned his head slightly out of the window, curious to see which of his neighbors was getting into trouble. It seemed like A7med wasn’t the only curious one; women stood outside their doorsteps wrapped in their robes and 3abayas, while children who were sound asleep, peered from their windows, awakened by the loud sirens and flashing lights.
A7med’s heart thumped when he saw a tall built police officer step out of the vehicle and onto the driveway of his house. Politely, the police officer rang the doorbell, and when he saw no response, he began ringing it several times.
A7med’s nanny, none the wiser, answered the door in fear of getting into trouble with the law if she didn’t abide. The police officer stepped inside the house, and the nanny cowered beneath his giant frame. A7med quietly crept down the stairs, trying to see what was going on, but the policeman was quick to notice A7med’s shadowy figure leaning against the banister.
“A7med Il-Flani?” the towering policeman asked, trying to get a better look at A7med’s face.
“Hala walla, u5ooy. Shba’3ait?” A7med stammered. It was the first time he’d ever encountered a policeman, let alone in his own home.
“Il-waled mawjood?” the policeman asked, furrowing his brow.
“La, walla; imsafer,” A7med replied with a small voice, reading the policeman’s name that was embroidered across his chest. ‘3abdulla Il-Flani,’ A7med noted, in case his father asked.
“Inzain, mumkin tiyi wiyay shway bes?” 3abdulla dug his hand into the pocket of his uniform.
A7med knew better than to disrespect a police officer or object to his demands, so he nodded, scared out of his mind. He followed 3abdulla into the street and climbed into the police car, nervously looking around at the people gathered in the street. Women gasped, clinging their inky 3abayas to their chests and faces, while children slapped their palms excitedly against the windowpane, hoping to catch the attention of the police officers.
3abdulla drove out of the fireej with his fellow police officer following them closely behind. “Wain ray7een, 6al 3umrik?” A7med gathered the courage to ask.
“Ilma5far,” 3abdulla replied sternly, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “3indina cham so2al, bes.”
A7med nodded, pale in the face. He looked outside his window and stared up at the night sky, silently praying that he wasn’t in any kind of trouble. It was almost midnight, and he was supposed to meet his friends at an apartment-turned-diwaniya in about an hour.

As soon as they pulled up in front of the sinister police station, A7med was quickly led inside by his upper arm and wasn’t let go until they all stood in Mish3al’s office. 3abdulla’s strong grip on A7med’s arm left a wincing pain, but that was the least of what was to come. Mish3al stood up and walked around his desk with a piece of paper in his hand. “A7med Jassim Il-Flani?” he asked. A7med nodded, the fear painting his face. “Ubook yadri 3an siwalfik?” Mish3al asked again, raising an eyebrow.
“Sh9ayer, 6al 3umrik?” A7med asked, not understanding what was going on.
“Sh9ayer?” Mish3al stifled a laugh, “T2athi banat ilnas oo lik wayh tis2alni sh9ayer?”
A7med’s eyes widened in fury. ‘Jawhara hal 7aywana!’ he wanted to scream, but before he had a chance to say anything to defend himself, Mish3al nodded his head, signaling the administering of a merciless thrashing.
A7med collapsed under the forceful slaps and kicks from 3abdulla and his fellow police officer, and his ears listened to the streaming multitude of curses aimed at him. He tried to protect himself by shielding his head with his arms, but the slaps came from every which way, leaving painful stings and faint bruises on A7med’s thick body.
After what seemed like forever to A7med, Mish3al cleared his throat while writing down a few more notes on his piece of paper. The beatings stopped, and A7med sat limply on the ground, leaning against the tacky brown faux leather couch.
“Goom,” Mish3al ordered, “Goom, yalla!”
A7med breathed heavily, tasting the blood from the gash in his lip. 3abdulla and his friend forced him up to his feet, pulling him by his upper arms again. A7med cried out in pain, but 3abdulla’s friend shoved him, telling him to shut up.
“Ilna’6ara,” Mish3al commanded, and with a dutiful nod, 3abdulla and his colleague dragged A7med out of Mish3al’s office, down the hall and into a cold empty jail cell. The door was locked and A7med, unable to believe the events that had just occurred, tried to absorb the scene he was in. The pasty white room was furnished with nothing but an insanely dirty and tattered red rug, and a white neon bulb hung naked from a wire that came down from the cracked moldy ceiling. A7med felt like he was about to throw up. He had no cell phone to contact anyone, and he didn’t know how long he’d be in here. He slumped his body against the dirty wall, dabbing his bleeding lip with his T-shirt.
Mish3al knew Mbarak would be asleep, so he sent him a text message letting him know that everything has been taken care of.

Jawhara stirred at 3 A.M. with a phone call from Mbarak. She rolled over in her bed after she’d picked up the phone, her sleepy voice barely able to say “Aloo”.
“Jawhara 7ayati, nayma?” Mbarak’s groggy voice filled her ears.
“Mmm..” she mumbled, sinking her head deeper into her pillow, “Shfeek mo nayim?”
“Nayim, bes kint bat6aman 3alaich. 5ala9, ridday namay,” Mbarak sighed.
“Zain,” Jawhara groaned, “T9be7 3ala 5air.”
“Wintay min ahala,” Mbarak replied, and after they hung up, he re-read Mish3al’s message with a content smile.

Sorry guys been away for few days.. thanks for waiting for the new post.. hope you love it.. ———————————————————————————Dana hardly sat on her seat, she looked up every 5 minutes to see how far they…

A few hours later, the group had wrapped up their studying. Jawhara checked her mobile for the time – it was almost 10 PM. “We better get going; t2a5arna.” As she got up, she looked around nervously, her eyes darting to the empty couches where A7med and his lame friends once sat.
Mbarak frowned and put his hand on her shoulder “Shitdawreen?” he asked, even though he knew the answer.
“Nothing,” Jawhara smiled and shook her head, relieved that A7med was nowhere to be seen.
They made their way out of Caribou Coffee and into the parking lot. Wahab followed closely behind Fajer, playfully propping his hands on her shoulder as if he was steering her. She walked in the direction of Jawhara’s SUV, but Wahab’s force pushed her in another direction. “Hey, wain? We have to go, Wahab!” she giggled, the icy air tickling her throat.
“Ana gilt batfaham wiyach ya3ni batfaham wiyach!” she heard the smile in his voice. They hopped over to where Wahab’s Lexus jeep was parked, and under the shady parking lot roofs, Fajer turned to face Wahab. “9ayra it’hableen ilyoom,” Wahab said in a low voice, his eyes twinkling as he caressed her cheek.
“Wahaaab,” Fajer groaned, unable to stop herself from beaming. “Inta shfeek 3alay?”
“Ma feeni shay, walla Fajoorti,” he snapped into serious mode, “This exam is one of the hardest oo abi anja7 3ashan a5ale9! Wana gayellich ahali ba3ad mo mga9reen with the 7anna oo 3awar ras.. Please.. La tiz3eleen minni..”
“Mo za3lana, Wahabi,” Fajer brought her hand to her cheek, enveloping his hand in hers. “I just don’t want this to be the way things are with us.”
Wahab pulled her free hand up to his lips and kissed her cold fingers. The warmth of his soft moist lips instantly came through to Fajer, sending prickles up her spine and into her chest cavity. “They won’t. I promise. It’s just temporary till this week is over, oo ba3dain ana killi lich.”
The moonlight streamed through the thin spacing between the parking roofs, casting it’s silvery light across Wahab’s face. His features were so well defined – his Kuwaiti nose that Fajer once thought was a little too big actually seemed sharp and not so pudgy. His lips glistened with moisture; he had a habit of running his tongue over his lips whenever he felt them getting too dry. Fajer remembered the time when she offered him her cherry Labello chapstick, which he greatly refused in fear of a pinkish red tint staining his lips. He’d lick his lips time and time again, and anyone that didn’t know Wahab would think that he was giving off sexual innuendos. And finally, Fajer’s favorite feature of all were his doe-like eyes – Wahab’s eyes were not too big and not too small, but his eyelashes were long, thick, and dark, which accentuated his dark pupils. His mother always told him that he’d inherited Bedouin features from his ancestors, a compliment that Wahab wore proudly on his chest.
For a brief moment, Fajer thought about how exhilarating it would be to kiss him in the darkness where no one could see them. She imagined pressing her longing lips against his and feeling the faint quiver of their attraction trembling back and forth. ‘Just a short sweet kiss,’ Fajer’s heart begged her, but her mind carried it’s stance over her rapid heartbeats, telling her no, even though the look in Wahab’s eyes said he was ready to kiss the life out of her.
Jawhara’s calling brought Fajer back to reality, and she threw herself into Wahab’s arms for a long hug. She drew in the scent of his cologne that seeped through his sweater, it’s strong fumes intoxicating her with every breath. Wahab gently pressed his lips against the crown of Fajer’s head. “Take care, Fajoorti,” he grinned, and Fajer nodded shyly, as if Wahab had read her deviant thoughts earlier.

As the girls drove back to Qur6uba, Jawhara sighed listlessly at the stress she was under. She desperately wanted to get the job at the bank, and because of A7med’s presence at Caribou Coffee, she was unable to concentrate as much as she’d hoped to. As soon as they pulled into the narrow backstreet that Jawhara’s house was situated on, the girls noticed a shiny smoky-grey Mercedes parked a few meters away from the driveway. Jawhara’s heart dropped to her stomach and her hands became cold and sweaty.
“Oh my God.. Fajer.. A7med hnee.. Fajer.. A7med hnee!” Jawhara cried, frantically shaking her daydreaming friend’s shoulder.
“Huh? Wain?” Fajer asked, jerking up in her seat.
“The Mercedes. Waaaay, Fajoor, what the hell does he want?!” Jawhara practically screamed, feeling the familiar tremble in her voice. It was the same tremble that came through whenever she and A7med used to fight and Jawhara would cry miserably to herself; the same tremble that echoed when she sobbed relentlessly after he’d slapped her.
“9ef6ay oo dishay; ma 3alaich minna!” Fajer told Jawhara, shocked at A7med’s audacity. He had the nerve to wait outside her home after everything he’d put her through?
Jawhara nodded, the fear painting her face. Her stomach was churning, as if she’d swallowed mouthfuls of chlorine water. Suppressing herself from gagging, Jawhara parked slowly, careful not to crash, and got out of the car as quickly as she could. To her surprise, her legs held her up, but they couldn’t walk fast enough. A7med was already standing outside of his car, a short distance away from Jawhara and Fajer.
“Sh’hal 9edfa il7ilwa,” he sneered, slamming the door of his car.
“Shtabi?” Jawhara asked loudly, ready to fight him off at any moment. Fajer whispered angrily for her not to talk back to him and just walk into the house, but Jawhara was nowhere within earshot, mentally and physically.
“T7achay 3adil la aheffich kaf,” A7med glowered as he inched closer to the girls. “6al3a wiya shabab, ha?”
“Mo shi’3lik!” Jawhara cried, feeling Fajer tugging at her arm. Jawhara pulled her arm away from Fajer, and though the tears were pooling in her eyes, she promised herself she wouldn’t let A7med have the last word.
“Mo shi’3li, ha? Mashi ya Jawhara; ana a3lamich,” A7med’s eyes reduced to angry slits that sat underneath his furrowed eyebrows. Before he turned around and gave the girls his back, he stepped closer to Jawhara and shook his head. “7asafa ubooch metwaffi, lana i9ara7a ummich ma 3refat itrabeech!”
“Roo7!” Fajer cried furiously, hating A7med even more than she ever has in her life. Jawhara’s body numbed at the mention of her father, and she contemplated picking up a nearby tomato crate and hurling it at A7med’s broad back, but her feet were planted firmly to the ground, and her back wouldn’t bend. The tears that once sat patiently in the rims of her eyelids had overflowed and spilled onto her cheeks, dribbling down to her chin and neck. “I don’t belong to you!” Jawhara screamed at his back, and he threw his hand up as if to dismiss her.
When Jawhara was positive that A7med’s car was out of sight, she stumbled back into her house, cradled in Fajer’s arms.

Without even saying hello to her mother, Jawhara flopped up the stairs, supported by Fajer’s shoulder. She was unable to stop the tears from flowing, not only because of the way A7med had spoken to her, but also because of the indescribable fear that A7med would never leave her alone. Fajer quietly closed and locked Jawhara’s bedroom door and went to sit near Jawhara, who had thrown herself onto her bed like a dead fish. Cries muffled by Jawhara’s thick satin duvet filled the room, and Fajer tried her best to calm Jawhara down. After a series of cursing A7med and consoling Jawhara, Fajer shushed her by asking “Jojo, you don’t want to let your mother hear you cry like this, do you?”
“Nhh..,” Jawhara grunted as she turned her head to the side to look at Fajer. Fajer’s downcast eyes looked at Jawhara, her eyes pink and puffy like marshmallows. Her tear-stained face was drained of color, and her breath shuddered every time she inhaled.
“Goomay ‘3aslay wayhich, 7ayati,” Fajer tried to ease Jawhara up, but gravity was not on her side.
“I want him to leave me alone,” Jawhara mumbled, and two tears slid onto her cheeks.
“He will, hal 7aywan. Walla, he will,” Fajer sighed, leading Jawhara to the bathroom. She held Jawhara’s thick honey hair back as splashed cold water onto her face. Jawhara reached out and patted her face gently with a terrycloth face towel. She looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes still stinging from all the crying. “I hate him,” she said to the person in the mirror, as if her reflection was another evil person that had brought A7med into her life. But the truth burdened Jawhara; it was partly her fault – she should’ve seen the red lights flashing, but she chose to ignore them for the sake of being in a relationship.
Fajer’s phone rang; it was her mother. “Fajer, wainich?” her mother’s voice was always so loud. Fajer cringed and moved the phone away from her ear in fear of having an eardrum burst.
“3ind Jawhara, Mama,” Fajer replied, her voice echoing against the tiles of the bathroom.
“Yalla riday, mama, t2a5ar ilwagt,” her mother spoke, and Fajer complied. Once Fajer hung up, Jawhara nodded understandingly before Fajer even explained that she had to go.
“Are you gonna be ok?” Fajer asked as she locked Jawhara into a tight hug.
“I’ll be fine. Thanks babe,” Jawhara forced a tiny smile and was about to walk Fajer out to her car, but Fajer held her hand up in protest.
“5aleech; erta7ay. I’ll call you as soon as I get home,” Fajer smiled and bounced down the stairs and out the door to her car.

As if on cue, Mbarak called Jawhara as soon as Fajer left. The phone rang for a few seconds before Jawhara picked up, giving herself time to regain her composure. But her voice betrayed her, and with the croaky “Aloo” he wasn’t used to hearing, Mbarak knew something was wrong.
“Jawhara, 7abeebti shfeech?” Mbarak asked, turning the loud TV down.
“Ma feeni shay,” Jawhara sniveled, trying hard not to cry. More than anything, she wanted Mbarak next to her, holding her and protecting her from everything. She closed her eyes and reminded herself of how safe she felt in his embrace, trying to remember the scent of his cologne and how comfy it made her feel inside.
“Jawhara,” Mbarak pressed softly, though he was getting irritated by the way she kept things from him, “Bitgooleeli shfeech wala la2?”
His soft loving voice made her crack; she started off with a tiny sob that turned into a small wail and finally a grand cry. “Laaaa! La tabcheen, Jawharti! 7ayati?” he spoke through her cries, trying to calm her down. He took a deep breath and tried to remain calm, but he couldn’t stand to hear his beloved Jawhara cry. “Shino imbacheeh?? Gooleeli, yalla 3aaad!”
The tightness in Jawhara’s chest formed a pain, which slowly stopped her from crying. When her weeping died down, Mbarak’s heart softened. “7abeebti?”
“Mmm,” Jawhara pouted, dabbing her eyes with a handful of tissues. She shamelessly blew her nose, not caring that Mbarak may get grossed out by the sound of her nose trumpeting. After her nose had finished it’s symphony, a stark silence filled her ear. “Aloo?” she mumbled, hoping that Mbarak hadn’t given up on her.
“3umri,” his voice, well above a whisper, eased her ailing spirit. “Shfeech Jawharti? Min imza3lich?”
Jawhara took a deep breath and gathered her courage, and began recounting the events that had happened less than an hour ago. She sadly told Mbarak about the nasty things A7med had said and the way he threatened to slap her again. Mbarak listened silently at every word Jawhara said, feeling an angry flame ignite in his body. His eyes widened and he gritted his teeth, ready to go out and find A7med and beat him to a pulp. When Jawhara stopped talking, he spoke in the most livid tone of voice Jawhara had ever hear. “Bitgooleeli isma wala la2?”
“Barook, tikfa, mabi meshakel,” Jawhara pleaded, pulling her duvet up to her chest and tucking it under her arms.
“Maaaalich shi’3il intay. Bitgooleeli isma al7een,” Mbarak raised his voice, seething.
After a moment of Jawhara contemplating whether or not she should tell Mbarak A7med’s name, she gave to his persistence.
“A7med,” Jawhara revealed, bunching the wad of tissues in the palm of her sweaty hands.
“A7med shino?” Mbarak almost shouted. The veins throbbed in his temples, and he had to restrain his bunched fists from breaking something.
“A7med Il-Flani,” Jawhara said quietly, silently praying that they didn’t know each other.
“Bye,” Mbarak barked after a short silence, and the phone line disconnected before Jawhara could say another word. Confused, she called back several times, and Mbarak rejected her calls until she called one last time to find “Call Waiting” flashing on her screen. “Yurja ilentithaar..” the voice of the Zain automated reply annoyed Jawhara, and she hung up the phone, knowing that Mbarak wouldn’t be answering her calls anytime soon.

The tides crawled shyly and tickled Dalals bare foot; she smiled but didn’t move an inch. She covered her eyes with her hands as she enjoyed the stinging warmth of the sun and the tag game the lazy sea was playing with her. she was in no rush. A hand…

The tides crawled shyly and tickled Dalals bare foot; she smiled but didn’t move an inch. She covered her eyes with her hands as she enjoyed the stinging warmth of the sun and the tag game the lazy sea was playing with her. she was in no rush. A hand…

“What,” Fajer began in a low voice, “Is that thing doing here?”
“I don’t know! What the hell?” Jawhara made her way slowly down the stairs and Fajer trailed behind her.
“Jawhara, 7abeebti, hathi rifeejti Huda min ayam ilthanawiya!” Jawhara’s mother exclaimed happily, “And this is her daughter Reem.”
“Mmm,” Jawhara hummed, acknowledging their arrival. She couldn’t believe how sneaky these women were!
“7abeebti, shloonich?” Huda smiled wryly and kiss-kissed Jawhara.
“B5air, il7mdilla,” Jawhara replied politely, moving on to kiss Reem’s cheek. Fajer followed suit, seemingly uncomfortable.
Within moments, they sat down at the dining table, the older women exchanging formalities and making small talk while Reem, Fajer, and Jawhara sat quietly. Reem eyed Jawhara, inspecting her au-naturelle hairdo and her cute Juicy training set – she’d wanted one just like it a few months ago but couldn’t find one in her size. Fajer unabashedly stared at Reem in return, picking apart her fashion sense – she was wearing an emerald green jacket with gold hoop earrings, skin tight jeans tucked into knee-high brown boots. ‘She looks like she escaped the marching band,’ Fajer thought, giggling to herself.
Rose brought out the lunch; a large bowl of rocket salad with beets and pomegranate, machboos diyay, and Fajer’s favorite, grilled jumbo prawns and crab-cakes.
“You made crab-cakes?” Fajer whispered to Jawhara delightedly, poking her side.
“Ushhh!” Jawhara shushed her, her eyes widening, “Eat now; thank me later.”
“A7ibich,” Fajer said melodically, picking up two large crab-cakes and setting them on her plate. She immediately forked a big chunk off, dipped it in the Thai dressing that had accompanied it, and bit into it. The sweet tender crab meat melted in her mouth, and the flavors that had accompanied it sprang to life like a symphony. Fresh coriander flecks released their zesty taste, as well as the tart lime, chili, and corn. Fajer closed her eyes in utter bliss as she chewed, savoring the wonderful flavors before it was time for another bite.
“Walla, tawna ams radeen min ilshalaih. Tadreen ba3ad, iljaw te’3ayar,” Huda’s voice got the girls’ attention.
“Ee walla, shyga3edkum ibhal jaw?” Jawhara’s mother smiled as she served Huda and Reem. The rain splattered loudly against the windowsill, reminding them of the dreary weather.
“3ad goolay mino t’3ada 3indina? Tathkereen wild Fahad Al-Flani?” Huda said slyly, glancing at Jawhara to see her reaction. Jawhara’s stomach flipped at the mention of Mbarak; she now knew why his friends called him Bu Fahad. She tried to keep her cool even though the incident still bothered her, even when Reem looked over at Jawhara, smiling smugly at the fact that she had the upper hand with Mbarak’s family.
“Fahad Al-Flani illi murta 7e9a Al-Flani?” Jawhara’s mother grinned, carving the chicken breast on her plate into slices.
Huda’s face turned pale, as did Reem’s. After a quick pause, Huda stammered, “Haw, it3arfeen 7e9a?”
“Ee, ha 3ayal! Ana oo 7e9a kinna indawem bilKOC, oo min tewafa ubo Jawhara Allah yir7ama, 6ela3t min ilshareka oo ge6a3na. Min ziman 3anha 7e9a!” Jawhara’s mother smiled while reminiscing on the good times she had with Mbarak’s mother, a warm glint in her eye. Jawhara and Fajer were practically awestruck at the fact that Mbarak’s mother and Jawhara’s mother were once friends.
Self-satisfied, Jawhara and Fajer raised their eyebrows at Reem. Fajer pronged a large piece of her crab-cake and dipped it into the sauce. “Il-Kuwait kabat,” she hummed loudly before taking a triumphant bite. Jawhara lightly kicked Fajer’s leg under the table, signaling her stop before things got ugly. But in truth, Jawhara was enjoying the powwow that was going on, and her insides were bubbling over with joy; she couldn’t wait to share the news with Mbarak.
The rest of the lunch was filled with tension so thick that it could be cut with a knife. The only people who were oblivious to it were Jawhara’s mother and baby Joori, who was happily bunching the fragrant saffron rice in her hands and pressing it into her mouth. Joori picked up her plastic Disney Princess tumbler and brought it to her lips, noisily sipping her diluted orange juice. “Mama, I finished,” she said, and placed her tumbler on the table top.
“Akramkum Allah,” Huda said politely after they’d finished eating.
“3alaikum bil3afya,” Jawhara’s mother smiled, leading them to the living room for tea and cake.
Fajer and Jawhara sat slumped on the couch, glued to one another’s side while Reem sat next to her mother across the room. While the older women chatted vigorously, the three girls stared tentatively at one another, sometimes raising their eyebrows in triumph and at other times rolling their eyes. Reem flipped her hair back and mumbled something to her mother, indicating that she wanted to leave. Loudly, Huda said something along the lines of “Ni6ray shway; ana oo 5altich ga3deen insolef!”
Reem’s face turned a deep shade of pink and she quietly stirred her tea, watching the sugar granules and threads of saffron swirl around in the current her spoon had created.

“Jooj, I have to study; when is this shindig gonna end?” Fajer whispered to Jawhara, who was happily indulging in a slice of raspberry tea cake.
Jawhara forked a piece of the sugary cake and brought it close to Fajer’s lips. “Al7een, shway bes. Try this.”
Fajer took the piece of cake into her mouth and closed her eyes blissfully. This wasn’t an ordinary cake – what used to be an run-of-the-mill pound cake was now laced with plump raspberries. The sweet fruit left big red explosions in the marigold cake, infusing it’s tart sugariness into every bite. To top it all off, confectioner’s sugar was dusted lightly on the top, and the fresh warmth of the cake had reduced it to a translucent glaze. “This is better than Little Treats,” Fajer murmured, picking at another piece of the cake.
“3awafi,” Jawhara smiled. “5allay ilstudying 7ag tonight; we’ll all go. Tell Wahab to come, too.”
Reem watched them, an ache forming in her chest cavity. She’d never had a real best friend before, and it envied her how Fajer and Jawhara were so close all the time and never got tired of seeing each other. Reem longed for a real friend to laugh with and share crazy memories with, but sadly, all of her old friends drifted away from her after she’d become so self-important and mean. For a split-second, Reem imagined how it would be if she tried to become friends with Jawhara and Fajer, but her thoughts immediately vanished at the sight of her mother. There was no way Reem could possibly have a single friend without completing what was on her mother’s agenda first.

A few minutes later, Huda and Reem excused themselves, saying they had to do some last-minute shopping for their upcoming trip before the malls became too crowded.
“7ayakam Allah,” Jawhara’s mother said cheerily, and after a train of formalities and good-byes, Reem and her mother left, leaving Fajer and Jawhara to bombard Jawhara’s mother with questions.
“Mama, two questions; first of all, how do you know this woman?” Jawhara crinkled her face.
“I’ve known her min ayam ilthanawiya oo bil9edfa I saw her again 3ind beit 5altich Haya two weeks ago; laish?” Jawhara’s mother replied.
“La, bes as2al,” Jawhara said quickly, more interested in the answer to her second question.
“They’re really nice, mo?” Jawhara’s mother smiled, picking up the empty estikanas and placing them on the silver tray.
“Ee, wayid nice, 5alti,” Fajer said sarcastically, clucking her tongue.
“Inzain, yuma; second question. Who is 7e9a Al-Flani, and how well do you know her?”
Jawhara’s mother poured herself her last estikana of tea and sat down between Jawhara and Fajer. “7e9a Al-Flani; a6yab insana 3eraft’ha ib7ayati. When we worked bilKOC, she’d always bring breakfast for everyone. Oo kinna nishte’3el wiya ba3ath fee wayid projects. I was fresh fa ma kint a3aref wayid nas, bes kanat dayman wiyay oo she was so friendly.”
Jawhara’s face lit up with every word. “3ayal laish ma itdigeen 3alaiha, Mama? Maybe you’d like to see her again?”
Jawhara’s mother looked at her daughter with questioning eyes, ”Why the sudden interest in my friends and who I talk to?”
Fajer stifled a giggle and looked at Jawhara, who had a pert smile plastered on her face. Jawhara was always brutally honest with her mother – she even told her about A7med, but of course, not all of the gruesome details of their relationship. Jawhara’s mother was nothing short of her best friend. “Because…,” Jawhara sang.
“Because what?” her mother raised her eyebrows suspiciously.
“Just say it, Jooj!” Fajer laughed, shaking her head at her friend’s miserable attempt to hide things from her mother.
“Because I’m kinda talking to her son,” Jawhara blurted out quickly and bit her lower lip hard.
“Which son? Yousef?” Jawhara’s mother said incredulously.
“Nooo, not Yousef, Mama! Mbarak!” Jawhara whined, feeling embarrassed. She could feel her face start to turn a million shades of red.
“Oh, Mbarak! 3abali bitgooleen Yousef; Yousef mitzawej!” Jawhara’s mother took a sip of her tea.
“No, no, Mama. Mbarak,” Jawhara let his name play on her lips again; she loved the way it sounded.
“Ee ya7laila Mbarak,” Jawhara’s mother squinted, as if trying to get a better look at her past. “Mo2adab, she7laila.”
“Yeah, Mama. He’s nice,” Jawhara smiled at her mother’s approval, but before she could bask in the good vibes she was getting, Jawhara’s mother proceeded to warn her as all mothers would.
“Be careful; not that he’s a bad guy. But with any guy. Just be careful.”
“Inshallah, Mama,” Jawhara smiled and kissed her mother on the crown of her head, “Don’t worry.”
“Ee don’t worry, 5alti,” Fajer butted in, “I’m looking out for her, too.”
“Wintay ma 3indich jaw?” Jawhara’s mother turned to Fajer, who was happily polishing off another slice of raspberry tea cake. Fajer looked up from her plate nervously, and she nodded, crumbs of cake decorating her smiling lips.
Fajer told Jawhara’s mother little details about Wahab, confiding in her about their happy moments and her fears of being hurt. Jawhara’s mother smiled, listened, and advised Fajer as if she were her own daughter. Fajer hugged Jawhara’s mother and kissed her cheek, grateful to have a maternal figure that she could actually talk to – there was absolutely no way Fajer could talk to her own mother about these things, in fear of being scolded or mistrusted.

Jawhara called Mbarak, her insides tickling with excitement. “Aloo!” she sang into the phone.
“Hala walla, 7abeebti,” Mbarak said cheerfully, elated to hear Jawhara’s voice.
“Two things – you’ll never guess who came over for lunch, and you’ll never ever guess who my mom is friends with.”
“Hmmm? Gooleeli,” Mbarak tapped away on his keyboard, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder.
“Awal shay, what are you doing?” Jawhara frowned, plopping herself onto her bed. Fajer was sprawled out on the bedroom floor, reading celebrity gossip sites from Jawhara’s laptop.
“Typing an outline so I know what to study tonight,” Mbarak replied, “Inzain gooleeeeli mino!”
“Ya7lailik! Inzain, the people who came over for lunch were Reem and her mother.”
“Ayshay? Wai3. Inzain, who’s your mom friends with?” Mbarak asked irritably.
“Your mother,” Jawhara said with utter satisfaction, and she waited for a response.
Mbarak’s jaw dropped in surprise. “7elfaaay!!” he exclaimed, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.
“Walla!” Jawhara squealed, throwing her head back into her satiny pillows.
“Wait, are you sure?” a hint of uncertainty crept into Mbarak’s voice.
“Yeah, I think so. Isn’t your mom 7e9a Al-Flani?” Jawhara asked.
“That’s her,” Mbarak beamed proudly at the mention of his mother’s name. His mother was insanely kind and understanding, and Mbarak always leaned on her for support and advice. She always wanted what was best for her sons, even though she had to go out of her way to make them happy. “3ajeeb!”
“I know, 9a7? Small world!” Jawhara smiled.
“Ee walla, small world!” Mbarak agreed. They then affirmed their plans for the night, planning to meet up at Caribou Coffee in the Free Trade Zone. “Tell Fajer to come.”
“Ee, I told her,” Jawhara said, looking over at Fajer and motioning for her to call Wahab.
“OK, 3ayal, inshoofkum hnaak,” Mbarak grinned and said his goodbyes before hanging up.

Fajer frowned at Jawhara, leaning against the edge of her bed. “Shfeech?” Jawhara asked.
“Wahab’s acting weird,” Fajer traced her finger against Jawhara’s blanket.
“Midaah? Shfeeh ba3ad?” Jawhara rolled herself over, facing Fajer.
“Madri, Jooj. He barely answers my messages and when he does, it’s killa one-word one-word. I asked him if he wanted to come tonight and still hasn’t replied,” Fajer rambled.
“Have you tried calling him?” Jawhara offered suggestions, disappointed at the way Wahab was treating her best friend.
“Yeah, he doesn’t pick up. Madri shfeeh,” Fajer sighed, exasperated, “Has Mbarak mentioned anything?”
“No,” Jawhara shook her head, “I can ask him if you want?”
“No, forget it. I don’t wanna seem like a lazga. Kaifa,” Fajer turned away from Jawhara and went back to the laptop, listening to the M7amed 3abdu track playing softly from the speakers. “Nisa 3ahd Il-Mewada Wel-Ti9abi.. 3alamah, Ya 7amama, Huw 3alamah? Wana Wallah Mansa Illi Me’6ali, Wala Ansa Illi ’3arami Min ’3aramaaa!”
Fajer sighed deeply, resting her head on the soft carpet. Her heart ached a little, but she tried to up her pride by a few notches, pushing her phone across the floor until she could no longer reach it.

In his room, Wahab paced back and forth from his work desk to his bed, trying to concentrate in spite of his mother’s yelling and the ruckus his brothers’ children were causing. He checked his phone quickly, skimming over the multitude of missed calls and text messages from Fajer and Mbarak. Frustrated, he threw his phone down and flung his bedroom door open. “Yuma! I’m trying to study! Shfeekum!?” He slammed the door shut again and picked up his phone, dialing Fajer’s number. The phone rang several times before it disconnected, and Fajer never answered. He tried calling again, a wave of guilt washing over him for ignoring her.
Fajer stared at the phone ringing a meter away from her, and stared at the ceiling, contemplating the number of times she’d allow it to ring before she answered Wahab’s phone calls.

+++++ M7amed 3abdu – Ya 7amama +++++

When you love someone and it goes to waste, could it be worse?”It’s over.”For some reason, when I say this to anyone (anyone being my friends) they start with the whole “Nooooo, it isn’t”, “Don’t say that!”, and the usual “You aren’t single, so don’t p…

The next day started off unusually for Fajer and Jawhara. When they peered out of their windows expecting to find a luminous sun, they were instead greeted with giant raindrops that splattered from a gloomy grey sky. Jawhara called Fajer up and raved about the weather. “It’s so romantic! I love the rain! Allaaaah, winter is finally here!”
“Ay romantic; ay ba6ee5? This means no more ba7ar, no more tanning, and no more Bnaider,” Fajer complained.
“Min gaaaalich no more Bnaider? A7la shay Bnaider in the winter! Cozy trainings, Uggs, chay 3al fa7am – it’s the best!” Jawhara coaxed. “Oo ba3dain, you never know with Kuwait’s weather. Today she’ll be crying crocodile tears, and tomorrow she’ll burn us all with her sweltering heat.”
“I know,” Fajer laughed half-heartedly, folding her blanket against her stomach.
“Shfeech, Fajoor?” Jawhara sensed that her best friend wasn’t feeling 100 percent.
Fajer smiled at Jawhara’s instinct and sighed. “Madri, Jooj. You know when you know you’re happy and everything’s going well, bes something inside of you tells you it’s not as good as it should be?”
“You mean with Wahab?” Jawhara asked, pouring herself her morning mug of chay 7aleeb. The hot steam swirled up into Jawhara’s nostrils, the sweet scent of cardamom invigorating her senses.
“Yeah,” Fajer nodded. “Sometimes a7is it’s too good to be true; that in a few weeks or months he’s just gonna drift away and be like every other guy we hear girls complain about.”
Jawhara quickly took a sip of the scalding chay, careful not to burn her tongue. “What makes you so sure that that’s gonna happen?”
“I don’t know,” Fajer began, and gave Jawhara a brief of Wahab’s forgetfulness the night before. “Ya3ni he could’ve at least sent a message. That would’ve been nice.”
“Babe, when men are at the diwaniya, they seem to lose all sense of affection. It’s just Kout, food, PlayStation; whatever it is they do there. Don’t take it to heart, walla,” Jawhara tried to comfort her best friend, but deep inside, that very same hurt stung her heart. A7med never spoke to Jawhara while he was in the diwaniya, and sometimes he made obscene remarks and rejected her phone calls, leaving her to worry all night and wonder if she’d done something to disappoint him.
“I’m not upset. I just don’t wanna get shocked by him,” Fajer said, finally kicking off her bed covers and sitting up.
“Inshallah you won’t. And inshallah I won’t either,” said Jawhara. After their usual girly conversations, Fajer and Jawhara hung up, and Jawhara was left alone with her steaming mug of chay and a plateful of cinnamon-dusted darabeel. She took a long satisfying sip of the milk tea and tasted something different. With her mouth pressed tightly shut, she let the rich flavors soak into her tongue. Zesty cardamom, creamy milk, fragrant tea powder.. Saffron? After a short moment of thinking and another small sip of tea, her thoughts were settled; a tiny crimson thread of saffron made it’s way into her mouth with the flood of milk tea, leaving behind an earthy sweetness that she’d longed to taste.
The rain pitter-pattered against the windows of her Qur6uba home, and in the deafening silence, Jawhara called out for Joori. But Rose shimmied into the dining area to inform Jawhara that Joori had gone on a shopping expedition with her mother. Disappointed, Jawhara tapped her fingers against the wooden dining table – she didn’t know whether it was Joori’s absence that disheartened her, or the recap of last night’s confession to Mbarak.

Impulsively, she called him to wish him a good morning. Mbarak’s sleepy voice came through on the other end of the line, and though the thickness of his voice made most of his words incoherent, Jawhara could hear his smile.
“Barooki, goom,” Jawhara pleaded, “It’s almost 11.”
“Kani, bagoom,” Mbarak rolled over in his bed, the flimsy sheets twisting around his abdomen and hips.
“Yalla; 9a79e7 oo call me.”
“Laish; is everything OK?” Mbarak groaned, shaking off the drowsiness.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I just want you to wake up,” Jawhara giggled.
“Jojo, ya3ni itga3deeni wana ma 3indi dawam; 7aram 3alaich!” he ran his hand through his short hair.
“7aram ana!” she laughed, “Ma 3indi a7ad! I’m drinking my tea alone!”
“Shga3da takleen?” Mbarak smiled at the thought of his Jawhara drinking her morning tea and having breakfast. For a split second, he imagined being by her side at the dining table and sharing his breakfast and his life with her.
“Chay 7aleeb oo darabeel,” Jawhara replied, dunking a flaky darabeel into her second mug of chay 7aleeb and watching the brown cinnamon create a circular boundary on the surface of the tea around the sweet treat.
“Beees?” Mbarak chuckled, “Mako baith? Gaimar? 3asal?”
“Fee! Walla fee! Bes I don’t eat all of that unless Fajer’s over for breakfast. Ma7ib akel broo7i,” Jawhara confessed.
“3ayal wainhi Fajer 3annich?”
“Tawha ga3da min inoom,” Jawhara said, ”She’s coming over in a bit, bes she’s got a lot of work to do for jam3a before classes start again, so ma ra7 it6awel.”
“Wintay? Ma 3indich shay?” Mbarak asked, remembering that he had two midterms in the coming weeks.
“3indi, bes not as much as Fajoor.”
“Inzain sh3indich ilyoom? Troo7een nadris together somewhere?” Mbarak suggested, hoping she’d say yes.
“I’d love to,” Jawhara beamed. “Let me know wain tabi troo7 oo when, and I’ll be there.”
“You’re on,” Mbarak grinned, rubbing his bare chest with his large palm. “I’ll call you ba3ad shway.”
“OK,” Jawhara agreed before they said their goodbyes and ended their conversation.

The light rain turned into a heavy shower, giving the streets outside deep acoustics. Every flap of palm leaves was heard, along with the splash of car tires against the wet streets. The grey sky darkened even more, and Jawhara basked in the gloomy mood that had taken over Kuwait. Fajer came over in her oversized sweatshirt, leggings and mukluks, carrying a box of Little Treats cupcakes and two bottles of Fuze drinks.
“Little Treaaaats!” Jawhara squealed excitedly, popping open the plastic top of the cupcake tray. “Yum, yum, YUM!”
“They better be ‘yum’; it took me 30 minutes to get them. Il-shewari3 za7ma!” Fajer frowned, plopping herself next to Jawhara on the comfy pale blue couch. Jawhara threw her favorite pink fleece blanket over Fajer’s legs as well, and picked out a chocolate cupcake with a bright green swirl of frosting. A moan of delight buzzed through Jawhara’s lips after she’d taken a bite. “These cupcakes are divine.”
“Adri, I love them! What are we watching?” Fajer turned up the muted volume of the television. Alex Trebek paced in front of three contestants and asked them questions about themselves before the first round of Jeopardy started. “Allahhh! Jeopardy! Sha5bari!”
“I know, 9a7? I love it,” Jawhara smiled and polished off the rest of the chocolate cupcake.
The girls sat together comfortably, fighting the cold that had snuck in the house from under the door. They called out answers to the Jeopardy questions, and exploded into fits of giggles every time the other got the wrong answer after guessing multiple times.
“Mita ibtadreseen?” Jawhara asked Fajer, who was texting Wahab on her phone.
“In an hour or so; laish?” Fajer replied, putting her phone down after the message was sent.
“Mbarak was saying that he wants to go study somewhere in the afternoon.. I was thinking you and Wahab could come too,” Jawhara said, picking up her ringing mobile: her mother was calling. “Aloo.. Hala mama, 9ba7 il5air!”
“9ba7 ilnoor, 7abeebti mama. Shloonich?” Jawhara’s mother spoke into the phone over Joori’s bubbly laughter echoing in the background.
“I’m OK, mama. Fajoor tawha yat 3indi, bnig3ad shway oo then she has to study,” Jawhara reached over for another cupcake.
“Laa! Gooleelha tit’3ada wiyana! 3azma rifeejti 3al ‘3ada oo yimkin tyeeb bint’ha; gilt tig3idoon wiyaha. She’s very nice.”
“Inshallah, mama; I’ll ask her and let you know,” Jawhara licked the sweet creamy frosting off the top of the vanilla cupcake.
“Inzain; please tell Rose to set the table for six people,” Jawhara’s mother smiled. “We’re almost home, bes inmur IKEA shway oo we’ll be back.”
“Inshallah, mama. I love you!” Jawhara sang into the phone.
“I love you, too, 7abeebat mama,” her mother replied, and the line disconnected.
“Shfeeha your mom?” Fajer asked, throwing her head back on the soft throw pillows that were arranged in the snug corner of the couch.
“She says stay for lunch; her friend oo her daughter are coming over oo she wants us to meet them.”
“Alright, let me just call my mom and tell her,” Fajer said as she dialed her mother’s number and told her about her lunch plans.
“Salmay 3alaiha!” Jawhara called out as she walked to the kitchen to tell Rose about the lunch guests.

Mbarak called her to warn her about the slippery streets outside, telling her it’s best not to go out at this time and to wait until the rain stopped pouring. “Shga3da tsaween?”
“Ga3da wiya Fajoor,” Jawhara beamed, “Eating cupcakes and watching Jeopardy.”
“Allahhh, a7ib Jeopardy!” Mbarak grinned, “Inzain, ana baroo7 iljam3iya real quick; bashtiri cham sha’3la.”
“What are you gonna buy?” Jawhara teased, “Deodorant? Laymoon? 5ubiz Libnani?”
Mbarak laughed out loud, grabbing his keys from his bedside table. “Close! I need to buy turkey. And Quaker.”
Jawhara made a sick noise, “Quaker, 3ad? How do you eat that stuff?”
“It’s yummy!” Mbarak tried to convince her, “I have it for breakfast wiya 7aleeb oo raisins.”
“Way, 3alaik bil3afya. Killish not into that,” Jawhara grimaced – she couldn’t stand raisins or Quaker oats, and nothing annoyed her more than the Quaker commercials on Fatafeat where they put Quaker into absolutely everything.
“Ba5aleech itjarbeena,” Mbarak laughed, “You’ll love it.”
“Yi9eer 5air,” Jawhara chuckled. “My mom’s friend oo bint’ha yayeen 3al ‘3ada, ok? I’ll call you once they leave, bes inta 6amenni 3alaik. Send me a message if you need anything. OK?”
“Sounds good; take care 7abeebti,” Mbarak sighed.
“You too, sweetheart.”
“Salmeeli 3al walid wil walda,” Mbarak said playfully. The Silverado’s ignition buzzed in the background, and a multitude of warning beeps sounded off. Tears stung Jawhara’s eyes at the mention of her father, and the awkward silence unsettled Mbarak. “Is everything ok?”
“Mbarak, my dad passed away last year,” Jawhara’s voice quivered as she tried to hold back the tears.
Mbarak’s heart panged and he felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. “Oh.. Oh, 7abeebti.. I’m so sorry. I really had no idea,” Mbarak stammered, not knowing what to say or how to comfort her. “Allah yir7ama inshallah wiyqamed roo7a iljana.”
“Ameen.. It’s ok,” Jawhara replied with a small voice. “Anyways, I’d better get going. I’ll talk to you later.”

Jawhara fought the sobs that wracked her body, but she couldn’t help buy cry a little. She missed her father – he was everything to her. Before Joori was born, she was ‘daddy’s little girl’, going with him to just about everywhere he could take her. They went to the fish market and he’d taught her how to tell if the fish was fresh and how to bargain for a better price. He would take her to the movies and to the circus, and shower her with gifts every chance he could get. Even when Jawhara was sick, he’d stay home and cancel his daily visit to the diwaniya to be by her side. But the best memories of all were in Bnaider.
Jawhara thought back to the first days when the chalet was bought, and her father would take her out to the site and watch her tumble in the sand and frolic in the sea. Even though the chalet was still brand new and didn’t have any furniture or electronics, Jawhara’s father would drive her out to the bright blue sea and sit on the sand for hours, watching her play until the sun set. That was one of the main reasons why Jawhara had become so attached to Bnaider; she knew with every step and turn, her father’s spirit was there, smiling at her and protecting her.

“Shfeech?” Fajer frowned, her sharp voice interrupting Jawhara’s thoughts.
Jawhara’s head sprang up and she tried miserably to hide the anguish in her eyes. “I just miss my dad.”
“Awww, 7abeebti,” Fajer waddled over and tightly embraced Jawhara. “Allah yir7ama. He’s always with you, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” Jawhara whispered into her friend’s shoulder. Her phone beeped with a message and she let go of Fajer’s hug to read it.
Mbarak had sent her a long text: “jawharti 7abeebti plz la tiz3eleen.. im sure its hard bes walla ana a9eerlech eli tabeena ummich ubooch u5ooch kilshay.. smile :* ana wiyach always”
A small smile formed on Jawhara’s lips as she kissed the screen of her mobile. “7abeebi,” she said out loud for the first time in a long time.
“Cuuute!” Fajer cooed. “Yalla, your mom’s here. 5al nig3ad wiyaha.”

Fajer and Jawhara snuggled next to Jawhara’s mother on the couch while Joori played with her Barbie dolls on the living room floor. They watched TV and talked, and Jawhara’s mother lovingly stroked Fajer’s and Jawhara’s hair. Not even an hour passed when the doorbell rang. Jawhara jumped up from her seat and ran upstairs, Fajer following closely behind. “Ta3alay! Wain ray7a?” Jawhara’s mother called out.
“Abadel!” Jawhara called from the top of the stairs. “Your friend is here, Mama, I’m still wearing my pajamas!”
“Lat6awleen!” her mother called back as she walked over to open the door and greet her friend.

Inside Jawhara’s room, Fajer paced around as Jawhara pulled out her favorite Juicy velour training set – it was dusty pink with black and gold graphics on the back of the hoodie and the side of the pant leg. Quickly tousling her honey-brown hair and clipping on her crystal flower studs, Jawhara made her way out of the room and down the stairs. The loud chatter of women filled the foyer, followed by smooches and pleasantries.
Fajer and Jawhara stopped halfway down the stairs in shock, and Jawhara tried her best to keep her jaw from dropping.

Hey guys ;* 3eedkum Mbarak (Wala Wahaaab? kaak ;p) oo taqabal Allah 6a3atkum! Hope you all had an amazing holiday (even though it’s not over yet!).. Stay safe oo please stay warm even though the weather isn’t that cold – I’ve been sick for the past 3 days oo lay3a chabdi :P Here’s your 3eediya! ;* A7ibkummmm jad jad..
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Jawhara smiled uneasily and felt her pulse start to race. Her brain attacked her with thoughts – “Tell him! Be honest with him!” and “Don’t tell him; ra7 t6ee7een min 3aina!”
Mbarak cleared his throat and smiled, “If it’s taking you this long to answer, then it must be a ‘yes’.”
Jawhara lowered her head and took a deep breath, the icy air filling her lungs. She passed the KDD Cocktail juice box between her hands and finally looked up at Mbarak. She saw a warm sparkle in his eyes; how could she not be honest with him?
“Jawhara, shfeech?” Mbarak frowned, waiting for a response.
She tilted her head back and pursed her lips. “Yes, I did. But no one knew about it and I intend to keep it that way,” she shot him a glance.
“Is that what you think of me? Amshi wat7acha feech 3ind ilawadem?” Mbarak said incredulously. Though it was the nature of a lot of his friends, Mbarak was never the one to talk about the girls he knew or the one he was with, in good terms or bad.
“No, but I’m just saying,” Jawhara mumbled. Though she felt uncomfortable about being honest with him, Jawhara felt a great weight being lifted from her shoulders. Mbarak felt her anxiety and scooted next to her, bundling her in his arms.
“Can I know who he was?” he asked quietly, stroking Jawhara’s shoulder.
“No.. Maybe in time you’ll know. And anyways, I wouldn’t really call it 7ub; it was more like a living nightmare,” Jawhara felt tears stinging her eyes. She couldn’t tell whether it was her body’s reflex to the cold breeze or if it was her old emotions coming back to haunt her.
“Laish? Shsawa?” Mbarak asked in the most concerned and loving tone Jawhara had ever heard.
She let her guard down, “Kan yikallem 3alay.. I’d always catch him cheating. He was never nice to me oo he’d ignore me for days, oo then mita 6ag ibrasa he’d call me again. When he felt like I did something wrong, kan yisibni. Oo marra min ilmarrat, mad eeda 3alay.”
“WHAT?!” Mbarak let go of Jawhara and jumped off the truck bed and stood in front of her. “Shloon it5alleena yisawi feech chithee?! Mino uhwa 3ashan yisibich oo yimid eeda 3alaich!?”
Jawhara stayed quiet, instantly regretting telling Mbarak about her nightmare with A7med. She couldn’t even look Mbarak in the eye.
“6al3eeni!” Mbarak pulled her chin towards him and glared at her, “Don’t you ever let him come near you again. Fahamtay? Don’t you ever talk about him or bring him up again!!”
The look in Mbarak’s eyes scared Jawhara, and a salty tear threatened to fall from her eyes. Sensing her fear, Mbarak held her close and rocked her in his arms. “I’m sorry Jawharti.. I’m so sorry. I will never do that to you. OK? I promise.. I’m nothing like him.”
“I know,” Jawhara said, her voice quavering, “Please, let’s just change the subject.”
“Ba3ad galbi, I’m sorry,” Mbarak said, still embracing her. “Are you hungry?”
“Killish la2,” Jawhara stifled a giggle, “I think there’s enough food here. Thanks Barooki..”

Mbarak hopped over to the driver’s seat of the truck, leaving Jawhara to munch on Hello Panda biscuits. “Wain raye7?” she called out to him.
In a moment, Mbarak came back and climbed onto the truck bed next to Jawhara. “Listen.. Ehda2,” Mbarak said quietly, kissing Jawhara’s hand.
The quiet air started to fill with soft music and rhythmic drumming. Jawhara listened intently as 3abood 5owaja’s voice floated out from the speakers, singing to Jawhara and Mbarak. “Tw7ashni Winta BeJanbi Washtaglik Lo Ti’3eeb.. Wa7sid 3alaik 7ata Nafsi.. Wa5sha Yemissik ‘3areeb..! Walla Ya A7la 3umri, B3yooni Ma Lik Mitheel.. Tsawi Il-Roo7 Oo Te’3la Oo Tkoon 3anha Badeel..!”

“Ee wallah!” Mbarak grinned, hugging Jawhara close and swaying to the music. A silent tear slipped onto Jawhara’s cheek, but she smiled anyway – it was comforting to her knowing that there was an 3abood 5owaja song for every way she felt. It was even more comforting to her knowing that there was a real man by her side that genuinely wanted to make her happy. She rested her head against Mbarak’s chest and listened to the beautiful song he’d dedicated to her. The sea stretched out in front of them like a neverending path that they were destined to walk through together. A flashing light from a distant ship that was passing by grabbed Jawhara’s attention, and her eyes followed it as it made it’s way across the dark horizon. There was nothing she loved more in the world than peaceful nights such as these, and what better way to experience them than in the safety of Mbarak’s arms?
The chilly gusts of wind swept above and around them, bringing them closer together. Mbarak suddenly felt protective of Jawhara – from her, he’d realized the magnitude of being in an abusive relationship and felt it was his duty to ensure that she never got hurt again; by him or anyone else. He checked the time; it was almost 9:30 PM. “We should head back,” Mbarak rubbed his cold nose against Jawhara’s amber tresses.
“Laish? Do you have something you need to do?” Jawhara inquired, upset that they’d have to end their lovely evening.
“Not really, bes ma abeech tit2a5erain. Plus, the guys are waiting at the diwaniya; ma ri7t ilyoom,” Mbarak smiled.
“Diwaniya, diwaniya! One day I’m gonna blow your diwaniya up!” she teased.
“Afaaa! Laish 3ad?” he giggled.
“So you won’t have to go there all the time and you can spend more time with me,” Jawhara wrinkled her nose, her warm exhaling breath making steam in the frigid air.
“You’ll always have me,” Mbarak cupped his frostbitten hands onto Jawhara’s face, “Diwaniya or no diwaniya. Mafhoom?”
“Mafhoooom,” Jawhara smiled, “Yalla, let’s get going then.”
“7abeebti,” he whispered audibly as he jumped off the truck bed and extended his hand to her. Jawhara slipped her palm into his for support as she slid off the truck and onto the ground. With 3abood 5owaja’s voice still quivering from the Bose speakers, Mbarak and Jawhara sat in their seats and drove a beautiful drive back to the city.

The peaceful darkness of Bnaider faded away and was slowly replaced with taller buildings, plants, and brighter lights. Mbarak watched Jawhara as she rested her sleepy head on the grey leather armrest between them and closed her eyes. “Ta3bana?” he asked over the soft music.
Jawhara nodded with a tiny smile and took a deep breath, feeling the vibration of the Silverado’s engine against her ear. Mbarak rubbed her upper arm with his right hand as they drove in silence, the only sound being 3abood 5owaja’s sharp voice against the cheerful melody.
They arrived to Kuwait City sooner than Jawhara had liked, turning into the curvy main street that led to the Qur6uba co-op. As Mbarak slowed down near Jawhara’s SUV, he nudged her lightly, waking her up so that she could get in her car and drive home. Jawhara stirred, somewhat embarrassed that she’d actually fallen asleep in front of Mbarak. She quietly apologized, smoothing out the creases on her sweater.
“Don’t be sorry, 7ayati,” Mbarak lovingly stroked her head, “Ridday ilbeit oo 7i6ay rasich oo namay; ana asayrich. OK?” Jawhara nodded with a tired smile and climbed out of the Silverado and into her own car.
Almost immediately, Mbarak called. “I’ll stay on the phone with you lain to9leen ilbeit.”
“Thank you, Barook.. Thank you for the amazing night, oo thank you for caring about me,” Jawhara sighed.
“Don’t thank me,” Mbarak replied, staring at her through his tinted window, “I had an amazing time, too.”
“Inshalla doom, moo yoom,” she smiled. As she drove through the backstreets that led to her house, Mbarak followed closely behind, making sure she made it there safely. He waited until she’d parked her car and was safely inside the gates of her home.

In less than a minute’s time, Jawhara had already called Fajer and recapped the events of the night in her croaky sleepy voice. “Fajoor, he asked me itha 7abait wala la2!”
“Oh God.. Please don’t tell me you told him about A7med,” Fajer moaned, “Please.”
“I did,” Jawhara said quickly, feeling a hard twist in her gut, “Was I not supposed to?”
Fajer groaned, “Shrayich, Jooj?” She loved Jawhara to death, but there was the hint of naivety that Jawhara could never seem to get past, and it bothered Fajer to no end.
“I wanted to be honest,” Jawhara tried to defend her stance.
“Kuwaiti guys ma yinfa3 wiyahum honesty. Honest wala moo honest; he’ll use it against you! You never know!” Fajer pushed.
Jawhara twisted the silky tassles on the end of her pillow between her fingers, trying to fight the way she felt. “Yeah, well here’s to hoping he doesn’t,” she sighed, throwing the pillow off the bed.
“Yeah, I hope he doesn’t either,” Fajer concluded as she tucked herself into bed. They continued their usual chatter until the exhaustion finally hit them. Fajer, as always, was the first one to fall asleep.
Jawhara made one last call before she went to sleep; she dialed Mbarak’s number quickly, hoping that he’d pick up and that she’d get to hear his voice before she went to sleep.

Mbarak threw down the last card in his hand, scoring him and his partner an extra few points in their intense game of Kout.
“Nice!” Fahad cried, pounding Mbarak’s fist and scribbling down their final score.
Mbarak’s mobile rested on the plush carpet between him and a player from the other team. Whenever it rang, the mobile would dance furiously in it’s place like a baby crying for attention, but Mbarak would always let it ring till the missed calls piled up – he never interrupted a good game of Kout for any phone call. But thankfully for Jawhara, she was an exception.
The loud ringtone rang over the clamor of the diwaniya, and when Mbarak peered over his knee, Jawhara’s name flashed on and off. He quickly picked up the phone and held it to his ear with his shoulder as he dealt the cards to the other players. “Hala walla,” Mbarak spoke into the phone, not wanting to give away the fact that he was talking to a girl.
“Barooki,” Jawhara said softly, “Ana banam al7een; I’m so sleepy.”
“Inzain,” he spoke gruffly, “Ana adiglik lama a5ale9.”
“Inshalla, bu ilshabab!” Jawhara giggled, imitating Mbarak’s masculine demeanor.
Mbarak laughed and quickly ended the phone call before his friends started to get suspicious, but 3ali, who was at his left, sensed what was going on.

“Mino sa3eedat il-7a’6?” 3ali teased Mbarak while re-ordering his hand of cards.
“Ay sa3eedat il-7a’6, yam3awad; hatha Ya3goub yabeeni aroo7la il-nadi.”
“Nadi al7een?” 3ali raised an eyebrow, a sly smile creeping upon his lips.
“Shdarani 3anna!” Mbarak shrugged, throwing down a card to start a new round of Kout.
“Mmm,” 3ali nodded apprehensively, digging his hand into a bowl of 7ab. He knew Mbarak better than everyone else thought he did, and his uncertainties never failed him. It was not that 3ali liked being nosey; he just didn’t like being lied to, especially since he told Mbarak everything.
By the time they’d finished playing 5 rounds of Kout, it was already 2 AM. Mbarak excused himself and said goodbye to all of his friends and walked out to his car, calling Jawhara on his cell phone. Her sleepy voice filled the other end of the phone, and Mbarak’s stomach flipped at the sound of her angelic mumbles.
“Ana rad ilbeit al7een, Jawharti. Tabeen shay?”
”Salamtik, Barooki,” Jawhara spoke quietly, ”Shway shway bil6ireej, ok?”
“Inshalla ya 3umri; intay namay, ok? Lat6eer ilnooma,” Mbarak smiled as he climbed into the driver’s seat of his car. In the cold darkness of his car, the scent of Jawhara’s exotic perfume lingered, and Mbarak filled his lungs with the traces of Ferragamo’s Incanto Dream.

Fajer stirred from her sleep, realizing that Wahab hadn’t called or messaged her in hours. She furiously punched at her phone’s keypad. Wahab’s phone beeped with a message from Fajer right before he was about to take a bite out him Subway sandwich. It read: “too busy to call or message? gnite ;r”
Wahab put his sandwich down and quickly walked out of the diwaniya, sitting on the cold marble steps outside the gate. He dialed Fajer’s number and as soon as she picked up, he tried to explain himself. “Fajoor, ana bildiwaniya ya3ni – may9eer kil shway adig oo adiz messages! Fashla jidam rab3i kil shway 6ale3 oo asolef bilphone!”
“Ana ma giltlik nam 3al telephone wiyay, Wahab,” Fajer shot back, twirling the phone charger’s wire around her fingers. “I’m just saying a message would’ve been nice.”
“I’m sorry, bes walla loya hnee!” Wahab sighed, rubbing his arms from the cold.
“Fine. T9be7 3ala 5air,” Fajer replied callously.
“Bitnameen? Shfeech im3a9ba?”
“Moo m3a9ba, Wahabi; bes you’re busy and I’m tired so banam. Ok?”
“3ala ra7tich. Te9ba7een 3ala 5air,” Wahab mumbled, “I’ll call you once I leave.”
“Ok,” Fajer replied, and with that, she hung up and tried to sleep. She tossed and turned in bed, her thoughts clouded with annoyance at the fact that she and Wahab were not on perfect terms. She thought about calling him back, but instead sent him a long-winded text message apologizing for her over-reaction and explaining that she couldn’t sleep knowing he was a little upset with her.
Unexpectedly, Wahab called her right back to let her know he wasn’t upset and that it was just a misunderstanding. His sweet words and kind voice made Fajer forget everything, and as if drugged with joy, Fajer fell into a deep sleep.

Jawhara rolled over in bed, bunching her flat pillow in her arms and trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. But she knew very well that it wasn’t the position that was depriving her of sleep; for the first time in months, A7med was tackling her thoughts again.
She thought of all the wonderful times they’d had together and how he’d begged her for forgiveness when she finally mustered up the strength to leave him. He apologized for the harsh words, the cold neglect, and the inaugural slap that signaled the end of their roller-coaster ride. Tears wet Jawhara’s lower eyelashes, ready to roll down her cheeks whenever she remembered the moment in which she realized her ordeal with A7med was truly over – she would never be sure if they were tears of joy, relief, shock, or disappointment, so she decided to roll them all into one giant emotion that explained the way she felt.
But what really ate her up inside was the fact that Mbarak knew – she didn’t know if that was the best for their relationship, but only time would tell. Silently, Jawhara prayed to God that A7med wouldn’t come between her and Mbarak, and that the mention of him tonight was the first and last time he’d ever be brought up again.

+++++ 3abood 5owaja – Min Far7i Ab’3a A6eer (Ehda2 5a9 ;*) +++++

Note to my amazing readers:
I understand that it gets frustrating waiting for a new part, etc.. But I’d appreciate it if you guys kept in mind that there’s more to my life (and I’m sure yours as well) than sitting at a computer and writing posts. In order for me to bring you the best posts, it takes time and inspiration, and lately I’ve had none of either. So it really doesn’t help when some of you (some, not all) are inconsiderate and leave mean-spirited comments. If you guys are having trouble remembering the story, all parts are posted for your reading pleasure and for you to brush yourself up on the past events of the story. And to a certain anonymous commenter, if you start to “lose interest” in my blog, I’m sure there are plenty of other blogs that would love to have you, but I have low tolerance for small-minded haters. That being said, enjoy part 22 ;) I made it extra long for you guys! Love u all :*
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“jawharti meta t9eereen 7alali?”
The crispy popcorn that had entered her mouth rested on her tongue, as she was so taken aback by his message that she forgot to chew. The popcorn pieces melted into soggy white dots between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, and at the same time, her heart melted too.
“shino ya3ni meta a9eer 7alalik? ;p im urs!” Jawhara punched the keypad of her mobile, watching the words quickly appear on the screen. After the message was sent, she waited impatiently for a reply, nervously tapping her foot on the mattress while staring at the TV.
Her phone beeped again, startling her. “u know sheno qa9di ;*” – Jawhara smiled to herself, and not being able to think of a satisfactory reply, she sent a message back that simply said “Allah kareem ;)”
Just then, her phone rang; it was Fajer. Jawhara immediately picked up and bombarded her with questions about how her date went.

“Jawharaaaaa waay! Iyannin! We had so much fun!” Fajer exclaimed, catching her breath, “Tha7akna thi7ik oo wayid wayid estanasna!”
“Awww! That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you, babe!” Jawhara grinned, “Did he say anything about the way you looked?”
“Eeee! He said I looked ‘3air,” Fajer giggled, “Whatever that means!”
“It means you looked amazing,” Jawhara beamed proudly.
“Intay ilamazing walla.. Jooooj he got me an iPod!” Fajer said, fumbling through her large purse for the iPod case.
“Ay shay?!” Jawhara’s jaw dropped, “Isn’t it a little too soon for the gift-giving?”
“Bithab6! I told him I couldn’t accept it, but he insisted. Yigool ‘cause he ruined mine,” Fajer explained, “It’s even inscribed.. “The music sounds better with you..””
“Isn’t that from that old song?” Jawhara asked, her hand fishing for what was left of the popcorn.
“Yeah; I love it!” Fajer smiled.
“Did anything happen?” Jawhara raised an eyebrow.
“What do you mean by anything?” Fajer frowned, wiping her make-up off with a Johnson’s face wipe. The wet napkin swept the array of colors off of Fajer’s face, and she studied the neutral palette.
“Ya3ni.. A kiss.. Something?” Jawhara hoped the answer would be negative.
“No, no, no. No kisses. Well actually, a kiss, bes it was a quick smooch between my shoulder and neck when we hugged.” Fajer nodded, tossing the Johnson’s wipe in her blue wastebasket.
Jawhara gasped, “Fajeeeer! Anywhere above the nose is fine! Anywhere below the nose is a big no-no!”
“I know, Jooj, bes I didn’t see it coming!” Fajer pouted. She couldn’t help feeling a little upset that her best friend was raining on her parade, but even more so that she’d let Wahab get away with it.
“I understand, bes la t5aleena yit3adda 7dooda,” Jawhara advised Fajer, trying to be as gentle as possible.
“Inshallah..,” Fajer sighed, “What’d you end up doing?”
Jawhara told her about her boring night of MBC 4 show marathons. “Ta3alay trayegay 3indi tomorrow.. Bes come early oo ga3deeni.”
“Cool, I’ll be there at 9,” Fajer smiled, “Tell Rose to make pancakes!”
“Will do, babe. See you tomorrow!”
“’Bye,” Fajer hung up and rolled over on her bed. She thought about calling Wahab, but instead sent him a text message thanking him for the lovely evening and wishing him a good night.

Jawhara, knocked into a deep sleep, couldn’t tell the time of day because of the shutters that had blocked out every bit of sunlight from entering her room. The soft ringtone playing from her mobile and it’s vibration caused her to stir – Mbarak was calling her. Groggily, Jawhara reached over for her phone and answered, her voice thick with sleep.
“Jojo, nayma?” Mbarak’s husky voice wafted into her ear.
“Mmm..,” Jawhara mumbled, rubbing her face into the warm satiny pillow.
“Ba3ad 3umri ridday namay; I’m sorry,” Mbarak said sweetly.
“What time is it?” Jawhara’s voice crackled. She pulled the mobile phone away from her ear and squinted at the screen, looking at the time; it was 4 AM. “Shimga3dik?”
“Kinna ga3deen bidiwaniya in6ale3 movie. Ne6art ilathan oo ri7t a9ali blmasyed illi yam ildiwaniya oo al7een rad ilbeit,” he explained.
Jawhara smiled – she didn’t know what appealed to her more; the fact that he’d called at an ungodly hour to tell her what he was up to, or the fact that he’d left the diwaniya mid-movie to go to pray at the mosque. “Shway shway bildarb, Barooki,” she whispered into the phone.
“Inshallah; intay namay, lat6eer ilnooma.. Adizlich message awal ma o9al ilbeit,” Mbarak assured her before wishing her pleasant dreams.
Jawhara fell back into a dream-fueled sleep, losing herself in awkwardly delightful images where she saw herself flying and then suddenly submerged in a crystal clear ocean.
“Jawhara.. Goomay.. Jooj!” Fajer sat on the ledge of Jawhara’s bed, nudging her blanketed feet. “Bessich noom!”
Jawhara woke up abruptly to find Fajer’s silhouette outlined against the bright light coming from her open bedroom door.

This wasn’t the first time Fajer walked in to find Jawhara oversleeping: at one point during her college years, Jawhara had thought she was clinically depressed because of her diminished appetite and her episodes where she’d burst into tears for no reason. Her emotional roller-coaster included long lazy hours spent curled up in her bed, listening to only the saddest love songs her iTunes playlist could conjure up and soaking her pillow with salty crocodile tears.
Fajer had been extremely worried for Jawhara, wondering what she could do to get her best friend out of her funk – there was only so much their caffeine-strung outings could do for Jawhara. Fajer had even looked into small dosage anti-depressants and their effects, wondering where she could find them, but when she consulted her mother about her plan, it was brutally rebuffed.
It turned out the cause of the depression was Jawhara’s beau at the time, A7med. A7med was a charmer, and he used it to his advantage – the countless times Jawhara caught him cheating and his daily mistreatment caused her to spiral down into nothingness, the only thing keeping her hope alive being the promise of marriage. Jawhara went through the critical struggle at that time in her life, losing a lot of her hair and weight, and looking so tired and sad all the time. Fajer took extreme measures, threatening Jawhara that if she didn’t leave A7med, she would lose their friendship and eventually, lose herself.
And like waking up from a bad dream, the moment Jawhara put her foot down and left A7med put things into perspective for her. Her bond with Fajer became ultimately stronger, she didn’t miss A7med at all, and best of all, her face radiated with such a happy glow that everyone around her noticed. And though it showed so obviously on her face and her health, Jawhara’s relationship with A7med was her best-kept secret.
Fajer prodded Jawhara’s leg again, shaking off the goosebumps that had formed on her skin – she was more than happy that Mbarak had taken A7med’s place in Jawhara’s life.

After what seemed like forever, Fajer watched impatiently as Jawhara rolled herself out of bed, almost tripping over her own feet. “Yalla Jawhara, I’m hungry!”
“Zain, zain! 7annitich Fajoor!” Jawhara stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the yellow lights. She squinted at her reflection in the round mirror and waited for the warm water to flow through the tap, and when it did, she splashed heaping handfuls of water onto her face. The tepid water woke her up; she was always told that cold water was more invigorating, but there was no way she could ever do it. Even in the shower; she remembered when her father would sit at the dining table eating breakfast after his morning shower, and he would make her feel his icy wet hair. “Baba, shloon? It’s too cold!” she’d laugh.
“It’s the best!” her father would exclaim.

Jawhara snapped out of her flashbacks and walked with Fajer down the stairs to the dining table that was loaded with plates of food: stacks of pancakes, plates of omelets, hash browns, ger9 3gaili, and Jawhara’s favorite, za3tar and cheese fa6ayers.
“Who the hell is gonna eat all of this?” Jawhara raised an eyebrow as she pulled out a chair and sat in front of the food mountain.
“I am and you are, too,” Fajer stabbed three blueberry pancakes with her fork and lay them on her plate, drizzling them with Aunt Jemima’s maple syrup. She sawed a stack of triangles off the edge of the almost-perfect circles and took a bite. The warm blueberry compote oozed out of the moist pancake, staining her tongue with a bluish-purple hue and tantalizing her taste buds with a delectably sweet tanginess. Fajer put her fork down and let out a loud sound of appreciation. “These are the best blueberry pancakes I’ve ever had,” she murmured matter-of-factly, slicing another piece.
“Bil3afya,” Jawhara smiled, taking a satisfying sip of her steaming chay 7aleeb. She smiled blissfully as she recounted her daily thoughts about her cup of tea, fascinated at how the taste never got old and how she’d become so accustomed to having it that she’d sometimes drink it at night as well.
“Yi3afeech,” Fajer chewed, and they started their day with their usual chatter about nothing in particular, making plans for the rest of the day before Jawhara’s outing with Mbarak.

Mbarak woke up to Wahab’s personal ringtone blasting into his ear. The loud rhythmic clapping of the samra startled him, and his heart raced as he answered the phone. “Ha, Whayeb,” Mbarak croaked.
“Barook, goom! 6a3 isa3a cham!” Wahab frowned at his best friend’s lack of acknowledgement for time.
“Nayim isa3a 5; shtabi?” he groaned, feeling a throbbing headache start to come on.
“Well, it’s 4.30 PM now.. Yalla, yam3awad; get up oo pray oo lama t5ale9 goolli 3ashan amurrik.”
“Wain binroo7?” Mbarak asked, running his hand over his sleepy face.
“Diwaniya, ba3ad, wain binroo7 ya3ni?” Wahab tapped his pen on his desk. He was trying to finish up as much of his report as he could before heading out for the rest of the day.
“I told Jawhara I’d see her today,” Mbarak remembered, “A5ale9 wayeelkum ildiwaniya.”
“Inzain; yalla goom, bessik noom,” Wahab said.
“Bessik 7anna,” Mbarak replied before they hung up. He hated more than anything to be woken up abruptly – though he’d slept for more than 10 hours, he felt sleep-deprived and the headache wouldn’t go away. “Ya rabbi,” he sighed as he pulled himself out of bed. After he’d washed up and prayed, Mbarak called Jawhara while he was eating his late lunch.

“Shga3d takel?” Jawhara smiled, listening to the chomps and chews on the other end of the phone.
“Gaboo6,” Mbarak giggled. He was the only one from all of his guy friends that liked the doughy dish, and whenever he’d crave it they’d tease him and call him an old lady.
“Inta oo fa9latik! Gaboo6?” Jawhara laughed out loud.
“3ajeeb, walla! La, oo min eed ilwalda?” he bit into a hot dough ball. The sweet-and-savory contents spilled into his mouth; the plump yellow raisins and nutty filling sat securely between Mbarak’s teeth, waiting to be chewed.
“Tislam eedha,” Jawhara smiled. She caught herself from wondering how Mbarak’s mother and father looked, not wanting to let her imagination take her too far away.
“Allah yisalmich. Inzain, mita maw3idna?” Mbarak asked, swallowing the last of his lunch.
“Whenever you’re done, I’ll start getting ready,” Jawhara replied, flipping through a magazine on her bed. Fajer heard her and turned her head around from the bedroom floor and wrung her hands as if to say ‘Yalla! We don’t have time!’
“Get ready then, ana tawni 5ale9,” Mbarak smiled, dabbing a tissue against his content curry-stained lips.
“Inzain; see you in a bit, Barooki,” Jawhara blushed, and when they hung up, Fajer and Jawhara dashed to Jawhara’s closet and flipped through the racks of hangers for something she could wear.

“I wanna wear jeans,” Jawhara complained when Fajer pulled out a flowy blue dress.
“Fine. Pick the jeans, I’ll pick the top; yalla!” Fajer cried. The race was on – both of the girls knew very well that Mbarak took no time at all when getting dressed, and since he lived in Surra, it wouldn’t take him more than 5 minutes to meet Jawhara.
After the endless options Fajer had held out for Jawhara, they both finally agreed on a heather grey cashmere sweater that had puff sleeves and a neat bow tied at the back of the neck. “Rif3ay sha3rich – messy bun,” Fajer suggested when she noticed how Jawhara’s long honey tresses were covering the bow.
“Why?” Jawhara frowned, tousling her own hair for volume.
“7aram, the bow!” Fajer joked, “Don’t forget the earrings.”
“I never forget the earrings,” Jawhara assured her. It was Jawhara’s trademark; she never left the house without a pair of earrings on, even when it was just a simple trip to the baqala. She fished through her collection of earrings for the perfect giant pearls that were dangling from a small golden bow. She hooked them onto her ears and quickly twisted her hair up into a messy bun. Jawhara had a unique way of putting her hair up in a messy bun, and it always made her look like a Grecian goddess.
Fajer went ahead and dabbed make-up onto Jawhara’s pouty face. Her eyes were shaded into a very subtle dark grey tone, and her lips were glossed over with her latest addition to her Chanel lipstick collection, #40. The light raspberry tint accentuated Jawhara’s naturally flushed cheeks, and gave her an over-all elegant demeanor.
“Mashallah, Jooj; you look beautiful,” Fajer beamed proudly at her creation.
“Thank you, 7abeebti Fajoor; I don’t know where I’d be without you, walla,” Jawhara thanked her best friend and took one last glance in the full-length mirror before calling Mbarak.
They planned to meet at the Qur6uba co-op, and just as Jawhara expected, he was there in three minutes time. His black Silverado gleamed under the bright white lights of the parking lot, and Mbarak flashed his headlights once at Jawhara, signaling for her to ride with him.
Jawhara looked around the parking lot, scoping the area for any familiar cars; thankfully, there were none. Just as Mbarak had instructed her to do, she quickly opened the door of her SUV and dashed into Mbarak’s truck before any soul could see her. “Lat6awleeeen tig3ideen itdawreen jan6itich oo t3adleen mikyajich madri shitsaween!” he’d warned earlier.

While she settled herself in the passenger seat, she looked Mbarak over, noticing his clothes – that was usually the first thing she noticed about a guy. To her delight, he was dressed casually, wearing dark grey fleece training pants and a hooded Polo sweater. The car reeked of YSL L’Homme, and Jawhara inhaled the heavenly manly scent, letting it fill her chest cavity.
“Jawharti..,” Mbarak whispered audibly, dazzled by her appearance. He picked her soft hand up and brought it closer to his moist lips, kissing the back of her hand as well as her fingers. “You look so gorgeous.”
Jawhara lowered her blushing face and a wisp of hair let itself fall freely in her face. She tucked it back into her hair and thanked Mbarak for his flattery.
Not letting go of her hand, Mbarak put his car in reverse and drove out of the Qur6uba co-op’s parking lot.
Jawhara watched from the heavily tinted window as the cars drove past them, oblivious to their presence. Jawhara felt like she was on top of the world – Mbarak stroked her ego as well as the length of her back, complimenting her every chance he could get. He wanted so badly hold her close, but he knew that he’d most likely swerve left and right because of her overwhelmingly sweet aroma.
They talked and laughed as Mbarak drove her down the 5th ring road and onto the Fahaheel Expressway. “Where are we going?” Jawhara asked with curiosity.
“Shda3wa ma dallaitay il6ireej?” Mbarak smiled his shiny white smile, his adorable dimple appearing.
“Imbala; this is 6ireej ilshalehat,” Jawhara nodded as they passed the oil refineries.
“OK, then,” Mbarak grinned.
Jawhara stared longingly out the tinted window at the massive oil refineries and towers. They were speckled with tiny white and orange lights, and one who didn’t know any better would’ve thought it was another metropolis in Kuwait. “When I was younger, everytime I’d drive out to the chalet with my dad, I’d point to this place and call it New York City,” Jawhara reminisced, “Even the flames look like the one on the Statue of Liberty.”
“Ee 9a7!” Mbarak smiled as he stared out the window towards the sparkling lights. “I love the smell of this place.” Mbarak rolled down the window a few inches and the thick scent of kerosene filled the car. Jawhara took a deep breath and relished the fumes that were mixed with the salty stench of the sea – they were getting closer to Bnaider.

They zoomed past Jlai3a and reached the rickety turns that led to Bnaider, but instead of going to the chalet, Mbarak stayed on the sandy side of the road. The chalets were lit, but there were no cars in sight – everyone was home for the remainder of the week.
“Ma giltli where we’re going?” Jawhara inquired, since they’d already driven past Jawhara’s and Mbarak’s chalet.
“We’re almost there; 6awlay balich,” Mbarak laughed. They turned into a dark patch of land that was situated between two abandoned chalets; there were no street lights or any sort of lamp post that illuminated the area. Jawhara felt uneasy as Mbarak parked; she didn’t know what to expect.
“Shino hatha?” Jawhara peered out the window and saw two rusty goal posts at both ends of the plot of land. Mbarak left the car running and told Jawhara to follow him.

The nippy air stung Jawhara’s cheeks, flushing them even more. She felt her nose turn pink as she rubbed her arms for warmth. Mbarak wrapped his arms around her, the thick fleece of his sweater warming Jawhara through. “Joojti bardana?” he whispered in her ear, his hot minty breath contrasting with the stinging cold air. A chill shot down Jawhara’s spine and she nodded, burying her head into his sweatshirt.
“Why are we here?” Jawhara wondered aloud, her voice muffled by Mbarak’s thick sweater.
“Because you missed this,” he smiled, kissing the side of her head. “Ta3alay gi3day.” He led her to the bed of the truck which he’d opened and motioned for her to sit.
“It’s too cold!” Jawhara cried, feeling the damp iciness of the truck bed seeping through her jeans.
“Here,” Mbarak pulled a Mickey Mouse throw blanket out from the truck’s storage compartment. He folded a part of it under Jawhara and let her wrap her shivering body with the rest.
“Mickey Mouse?” she laughed out loud, sniffling her nose, “Killish moo layig!”
“Laish?” Mbarak chuckled, “I love this blanket! Kil ma nroo7 ilbar I take it with me. I’ve had it since I was a kid. 7adda yidaffi!”
“You’re so cute, walla,” Jawhara smiled as she tucked the ends of the blanket around her.
Mbarak wrapped his arms around her once again, adding to the fuzzy warmth of the throw blanket. “Intay ilcute, walla.. Inzain, look up.”
Jawhara craned her neck upwards and gasped at the magnificent sight.

The sapphire sky was filled with thousands of clustered stars, some bright and twinkling, and some less noticeable. Shining among the stars was a pink moon, something she rarely got to witness. There was not a single grey cloud in the sky to take away from it’s spectacular beauty, and the soft sound of the distant crashing waves only added to the serene wonder.
“Wow,” Jawhara smiled, resting her lifted head on Mbarak’s shoulder. He rested his head against hers and they enjoyed the calm that could only be found in Bnaider. From the Silverado’s radio, 3abood 5owaja serenaded them as he always did. “Lo Marra Saifon Bainana, Lam Nakon Na3lem Hal Ajra Dammi Am Damak? Sal Il-Duja Kam Raaagani Najmuho Lama 7aka Mabsamaho Mabsamak!”
”Allaaaah!” Jawhara sighed at the poetic words.
“Ee wallah,” Mbarak agreed. They spent the rest of the evening under the clear night sky, eating snacks and drinking sugarfree Red Bull, and laughing and talking about the most random and exciting topics.
Jawhara felt so at ease with Mbarak; he was incredibly sweet and romantic, and best of all, he had a sense of humor that surpassed all of his amazing qualities. She knew that she could count on him if she needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to talk to about anything that crossed her mind. She smiled blissfully at the easy-going course their date was taking.
Mbarak turned to Jawhara, a grave expression painting his face. He took a bite out of his Flake bar, feeling the milky chocolate melt in his mouth. “Inzain, I have a serious question.”
“Shoot,” Jawhara asked, her stomach doing a little flip.
“Abeech itjawbeeni ib9ara7a,” Mbarak raised his eyebrows, rubbing Jawhara’s pink cheek with his thumb.
“Inta is2al awal!” Jawhara smiled, scared of what was to come.
Mbarak took a deep breath and asked the question Jawhara dreaded the most – “Intay 7abbaitay min gabel?”

+++++ 3abood 5owaja – A’6naytani Bil-Hajr +++++

Jawhara had called Fajer up to tell her about the flowers Mbarak had sent, and in turn, Fajer told her that Wahab had asked to see her later on that night.
“We have to get you glammed up,” Jawhara smiled devilishly.
“Laa, Jojo; I don’t want to look overdressed,” Fajer begged, “Then he’ll start thinking I’m trying too hard.”
“Well, aren’t you?” Jawhara bit into the soggy darabeel, savoring the cinnamon and sugar flakes on her tongue.
“Not really, no,” Fajer rolled her eyes, “I wanna look casual.”
“Casual ya3ni shloon?” Jawhara chewed, tucking her long chocolatey hair behind her ear.
“Ya3ni,” Fajer mumbled, “I don’t know.”
“Inzain, we’ll see later on today. What time’s your date?” Jawhara licked the remaining cinnamon off her lips.
“Don’t call it that,” Fajer blushed, tapping her fingers on her desk.
“Ha 3ayal! Your appointment? Your business meeting?” Jawhara laughed, “Fajoor, you have to loosen up.”
“I am loose,” Fajer stated, slumping her shoulders as if to emphasize her point.
“No, you’re not. Bayeelich in a few,” Jawhara said, taking the last sip of her tea. She was on her third mug, and she stared at the silvery flask trying to decide whether she wanted another cup or not. She decided against it and placed her saucer over the top of the empty mug.
“’Kay,” Fajer smiled, and they hung up.

In no later than 20 minutes, Jawhara had already washed up, gotten dressed, and arrived at Fajer’s home. She quickly kissed Fajer’s mother on the crown of her head as if she were her own mother, and bolted up the stairs into Fajer’s room.
Fajer was sitting on the floor, leaning against the foot of her unmade bed. She had her laptop by her side, listening to M7amed 3abdu jalsat while rummaging through a stack of tops that she’d taken out of her closet. “No.. No.. No..,” she mumbled to herself, not even noticing that Jawhara had walked in.
“’Hi’ would be nice,” Jawhara giggled as she sat next to Fajer and sorted through the ‘No’ pile.
“7abeebti! I’m so sorry,” Fajer said absentmindedly, leaning over to hug Jawhara with one arm.
“What’s wrong with this top?” Jawhara held up a loose-fitting white shirt with silver tinsel laced through the fabric.
“Everything,” Fajer made a face and threw more shirts into the ‘No’ pile.
“Is there a ‘Yes’ pile anywhere?” Jawhara looked around jokingly.
“Not yet; sa3deeni Jooj, I’m so nervous,’ Fajer whined, turning up the volume of the music coming from her laptop. “Sega Allah Bil-3umur Laila! Thahar Fee 9afwaha Badrin, Gumarha Wajhik Il-Fattan! Alaaa, Lait Il-Fajer Ma Baaan!”
“A5aiiiih 3alaik, ya Bu Noora,” Jawhara sighed, swaying her head from side to side to the upbeat melody.
“Ee wallah!” Fajer smiled, somewhat relaxed, “What about this?” she held up a ruffle-collared navy plaid shirt.
“You know, that’s actually really cute ma3a enni not a fan of plaid,” Jawhara nodded her head approvingly.
“5ala9 then; this,” Fajer concluded, tossing the shirt onto her bed, “With jeans and nice shoes oo 5al ya7mid rabba!” They both laughed and let the day roll by until it was time for Fajer’s date.

Wahab had eaten lunch in a hurry, wanting to give himself enough time to get some rest and get dressed before he saw Fajer. Anxiety was eating him up inside – he wanted so badly to impress Fajer, and he hoped that he could make the evening just as romantic as it was in the chalet.
Night fell sooner than Wahab had expected. A chilly breeze swirled outside, pressing against his window and cooling off the glass. Wahab placed his warm hand against the window, expecting the iciness of the windowpane to stop his hands from getting clammy.
His phone rang, startling him from his daze; it was Fajer. “Aloo?” he stammered.
“Ha Wahabi, are you ready?” Fajer asked as casually as she could trying to cloak the nervousness in her voice.
“Ee, ka, bes digeega wa6la3,” Wahab felt his face get hot. He loved it when she called him ‘Wahabi’ – he was hers.
“Okay..,” Fajer murmured, puckering her lips at Jawhara, “Wain nitlaga?”
“Ummm.. Madri,” Wahab felt like an idiot. How could he not know where they should meet? “7adeeqat Il-Nuzha?”
Fajer giggled timidly, wondering what ever came over him to suggest such a place. Still, it was a quiet and secluded area where they could talk at ease, so she quietly approved.
Jawhara worked overtime to make Fajer look special. Her usually curly mane was tamed into long honey-brown locks and then curled with a big-barreled curling iron. In addition to the soft black eye make-up decorating Fajer’s almond-shaped eyes, a sharp wine colored gloss brought out her full lips. With the ruffled plaid shirt, jeans, and strappy heels, Fajer looked like a star.
“You look stunning,” Jawhara beamed as Fajer took a long look in the mirror.
“Whoa,” Fajer gasped, “Isn’t the gloss a little too dark?”
“5aleeh oo ya wailich itha jisteeh,” Jawhara warned, looking into the mirror over Fajer’s shoulder, “You ready?”
“Yep,” Fajer took a deep breath and exhaled, picking up her phone to dial Wahab’s number.

As Wahab walked out of the house and into the garden, the overpowering smell of the ful plants swirled around him. Drawn to their beauty, he walked over to the plant and searched for the largest flower in the clusters of ivory and pearl. When he found the perfect one, he plucked it delicately, making sure there was a long enough stem so that the plant wouldn’t shrivel and brown as quickly as it normally would.
He drove his Lexus jeep as fast as he could, maneuvering through traffic and trying not to crash over high speed bumps until he reached Nuzha’s park. He saw Fajer’s BMW parked under a large tree on the parking slope, and he pulled in right next to her. Wahab honked the horn so that she’d acknowledge his presence, and in a second, Fajer whipped her head around to look at him.
Wahab’s smile radiated from his slightly tinted window, and through the glass, Fajer saw him beckon for her to come and sit in his car. She immediately called him, and when he picked up, she asked, “I thought we were going for a walk?”
“We are, bes ba36eech shay,” Wahab smiled, “Ta3alay.”
“Yalla kani,” Fajer unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door of her shiny black car.

Fajer uneasily let herself into Wahab’s car, turning her head left and right to make sure no one saw her climb in. When she slammed the door shut and looked at Wahab, he was staring at her, awestruck.
“Shfeek?” Fajer suppressed a grin, turning her body to face him.
“Shaklich ‘3air, Fajoor.. You look so beautiful,” Wahab said softly, reaching out to hold her hand.
“9ij?” Fajer slipped her hand into his and lowered her blushing face.
He lifted her chin up with his other hand and looked into her eyes, “Latnazleen rasich; 5al ashoofich!”
“Sorry,” Fajer smiled, biting her lower lip and tasting the fruity red gloss that Jawhara had so carefully applied earlier. She ran her tongue over her teeth discreetly, hoping to lick away any bits of gloss that may have smudged on her teeth.
“Here,” Wahab awkwardly reached out and tucked the fragrant ful flower behind Fajer’s ear. “It’s from our garden,” Wahab chuckled, “It reminded me of you.”
“Awww! Wahabi!” Fajer’s face reddened, “Shmi3na?”
“Because they’re beautiful like you.”
“Waaay Wahab.. Thank you.. I’ll press it when I get home,” Fajer tightened her grip around Wahab’s hand, “Inzain yalla, let’s go.”
“La7tha,” Wahab stopped her from reaching for the door, “I got you something else.” He pulled out the small gift-wrapped box from his glove compartment and handed it to Fajer.
“What is this?” Fajer crumpled her brow.
“Open it,” Wahab urged, a smile spreading across his face.
Fajer looked at him, curiously raising an eyebrow. She gingerly picked at the neatly wrapped package only to reveal a clear plastic case with an electric blue iPod Nano sitting in it. “Wahab!” Fajer cried, embarrassed.
“Shinooo?” Wahab smiled, rubbing Fajer’s upper arm.
“La2, La2; I can’t accept this,” she shook her head, holding the iPod out to him.
“Mo bkaifich,” Wahab gently pushed her hand away, “I ruined yours so it’s only fair. Yalla 3ad!”
“Ee, bes laish?!” Fajer felt so discomfited, but at the same time she wanted so badly to fling her arms around his neck. She leaned over to hug him and he planted a soft kiss on the curve of her neck. A warm quiver shot down her back and as much as she wanted to pull away, she relinquished and let herself enjoy the fuzzy feeling that the beginning of a new love brings.
“Inzain, open it,” Wahab pressed, slowly pulling away from Fajer’s comfortable hold.
She sighed deeply and flipped open the clear lid of the iPod case and eased the iPod Nano out of it’s clasp. She turned the iPod over with her palm, and the bright neon overhead lights of Nuzha’s park clarified the metallic engraving. “The music sounds better with you..,” Fajer read aloud, “Wahab, this is so sweet. I love it.”
“9ij? Ashwa..,” Wahab cupped her hands in his palms and brought them to his moist lips.
“Thank you, min 9ijji,” Fajer smiled from ear to ear.
“Tistahlain akthar,” Wahab whispered, his warm minty breath lacing her fingers.
Not knowing how to reply to his sweet sayings, Fajer eased the tension by suggesting they go for the walk he’d promised. She tucked her new iPod into her purse and they both got out of Wahab’s jeep. Wahab quickly slid over to Fajer’s side and put his arm around her shoulder, guiding her along with his step and shielding her from the harsh night gust.

“Joojti wainhi?” Mbarak sang into the phone over the roar of his car’s engine.
“Mino, Salem?” Jawhara joked, “La la7tha, la7tha. This is 6alal. 7amad?”
“7ilfay,” Mbarak growled.
“I’m kidding, Barooki,” she laughed out loud, “I’m at home.. 7addi bored. Wainik?”
“Going to the diwaniya,” he sighed, letting out a small laugh. He took a long drag of his cigarette, trapping the musty smoke in his mouth before exhaling.
“5al ne6la3!” Jawhara offered, turning down the volume of the TV. She tried to read the Arabic subtitles flashing on the screen, but she decided Desperate Housewives was much more interesting in English.
“Wain ni6la3, Jojo; shayfa isa3a cham al7een? 5aleeha bacher,” Mbarak promised, “Bacher intay 7aggi.”
“Oh, so ya3ni bes bacher ana 7aggik?” Jawhara teased.
“Intay kilyoom 7aggi,” Mbarak’s voice softened. He felt the urge to drive up to her house and scoop her up in his arms – he was starting to miss her.
“5osh,” Jawhara smiled smugly, “Winta kilyoom 7aggi muggi.”
“7aggi muggi,” Mbarak laughed out loud, “Sha5bari, min wain 6ala3teeha!”
“Adri 9a7? I like saying it.”
“I like it when you say it.. Inzain Jawharti, ana we9alt ildiwaniya. A6la3 wadig ok? Tabeen shay?” Mbarak asked his usual questions.
“Salamat 3umrik; take care,” Jawhara replied, and they hung up.

Jawhara slumped back onto her propped up pillows and turned up the volume. She watched intently as Gabrielle ran her small hands across the lengths of John’s bare back. Shoving fistfuls of buttered popcorn into her mouth, she relished the salty sweetness of the fluffy snack and imagined that one day, she’ll be married to her knight in shining armor and she’d get to love him just as well as Gabrielle and John – No.. Better.
Her phone beeped with a message from Mbarak, and she picked it up to read four small words gracing the white screen.

+++++ M7amed 3abdu – Maw3ed Il-A7bab +++++

Jawhara tossed and turned in bed, wondering what was bothering Mbarak. She called him knowing that he was asleep, hoping he wouldn’t mind a little chat. Mbarak answered after the second ring, and his voice thick with sleep came through the speaker. “Shfeech, Jojo?”
“I can’t sleep,” she mumbled, “Gooli what’s wrong?”
Mbarak rolled onto his back and put his arm behind his head. The moonlight shone through his flimsy curtains, leaving faint white patterns on his bed sheets. He took a deep breath, frantically trying to gather his thoughts and find a way to tell Jawhara what had happened. “Well, remember Reem?” he began.
“Yes..,” Jawhara replied quietly, trying not to let Mbarak hear her heavy breathing.
“Well, it turns out her mom is a friend of my mom’s.. Min ziman.. Oo ams billail she walked over to me oo invited me to lunch..” Mbarak paused, waiting for some kind of response from Jawhara.
“And..?” Jawhara asked, her face prickling with angry heat.
“And I went, but I left before lunch was over because I heard them talking while I was in the bathroom,” Mbarak said in one long-winded breath. He buried his head deeper into his lumpy pillow waiting for a real response, but the stark silence on the other end of the line spoke worlds. “Jawharti?” he cleared his throat.
“Mbarak,” Jawhara began through gritted teeth.
“Joojti, I’m sorry; walla I am,” Mbarak pleaded pathetically, “I couldn’t turn her down because she’s my mom’s friend, bes walla I didn’t wanna be there. Walla.”
“Mbarak,” Jawhara repeated, her nostrils flaring in disappointment. She kicked her hot duvet off, letting the air condition cool her body down.
Mbarak closed his eyes in dismay; he hated when people called him by his name like that. “Jawhara, I’m sorry..,” he sighed, “Arjooch la tiz3ileen minni.. I didn’t wanna upset you, bes I figured you’d find out either way so it would be best if I was honest with you and told you.”
A long silence followed by heavy breathing echoed through the phone. Jawhara frowned and bit her dry lip, trying to figure out how to reply without letting him off the hook so easily. She was glad he was honest with her, but it still hurt.
“I appreciate your honesty,” she finally spoke, “But I would’ve appreciated it more if you told me once it happened.”
Mbarak’s throat dried up, “I know, Jawharti.. I’m sorry, walla.”
“Inzain, I’ll talk to you later, Mbarak,” Jawhara said sternly, “T9be7 3ala 5air.”
Not knowing how to reply or beg for more time to explain, he wished her the same and hung up. He couldn’t help but send her a text message: “jawharti plz.. 7aggech 3alay wallaaaa a6eg ildenya bl6ofa wala enech tz3eleen meni!”
Jawhara’s phone beeped with a text message alert, and when she read Mbarak’s message, tears stung her eyes. “Yeah, right,” she said out loud to no one in particular. Sighing deeply, she switched off her mobile phone, recited her mu3awethat and went to sleep.

The next morning was a drag for Fajer, Wahab, Jawhara, and Mbarak.
Mbarak called Wahab first thing in the morning to tell him that he’d told Jawhara and explained the way she reacted.
Wahab groaned, tangling his legs in his sky blue bed sheets. “Barook, ana giltlik latgoolaha,” he took a deep breath and tried to wake himself up from his groggy sleep.
“I had to, Whayeb, yalla 3ad!” Mbarak rubbed his shaved head, “Itha min awalha ba5esh 3alaiha then it’s just gonna go downhill.”
“I guess,” Wahab hugged his pillow against his bare chest. “Yalla ma 3alaih.. She’ll get over it, bes inta fich 3anha shway 5alha et6e5. Shbitsawi?”
“Madri. Bag3ad wiya ahali shway.. Inta shbitsawi?”
“Ta3al wiyay Avenues,” Wahab offered.
“Sh3indik hnaak?” Mbarak asked, propping his head up on one elbow.
“Madri, nitmasha,” Wahab replied, slowly kicking his bed sheets away from his body. The cold air in his room swept against his body, sending a chill up his spine.
“Foga. Amurrik ana,” Mbarak said, checking the time, “Aqal min sa3a wakoon 3indik.”
“Lat6awel Barook,” Wahab pleaded, “Mali 5ilg 3awar ras min il9ib7.” He knew that in no time his parents would start the early-morning routine of nagging him about schoolwork and when-are-you-going-to-take-your-sister or how-many-times-have-I-told-you.
“Inshalla,” Mbarak wrinkled his nose, and they both hung up and jumped out of bed to get ready for their outing.

Jawhara woke up with a weight on her chest. She sighed deeply, hoping that the heavy feeling would subside, but it didn’t. She turned her phone back on – something she wasn’t used to doing since she almost never turned her phone off for any reason, especially when she was upset. To Jawhara’s satisfaction, MissU had sent her at least 4 messages alerting her that Mbarak had called her while her phone was off, and of course, a series of apologetic messages from him. Jawhara pursed her lips and was about to call Fajer, thinking about telling her about the incident last night. It wasn’t Jawhara’s usual way of handling things; she knew when to keep things private, and relationship problems were something she knew not to share with her best friend. It’s not that Jawhara didn’t trust Fajer so much – they trusted each other with their lives – but it was the fact that it would make her relationship with Mbarak less exclusive if everyone was involved. Besides, she needed to learn how to handle these situations alone, no matter how badly she needed advice.
Instead, Jawhara shoved her phone into the kangaroo pockets of her sweater and walked into the bathroom to wash up for prayers. After she’d prayed, she felt the weight lifted off her chest as she repeated, “La Elaha Illa Allah, M7amad Rasool Allah.”

As she stepped out of her room, her younger sister Joori (who was only 4) ran up to her and hugged her thigh as she would every morning. “Happy Birthday, Jawhara!” Joori giggled in her high-pitched voice.
“Joori, it’s not my birthday,” Jawhara laughed and tousled her baby sister’s hair. Sometimes she felt the true blessing of having a younger sister; Joori was annoying sometimes, and a “Kanana” as her mother put it, but it was times like these where Jawhara was so glad to have a bundle of joy to cheer her up when she needed it.
“Yes, it is!” Joori picked up Jawhara’s hand and kissed it as they walked down the stairs to the dining area, “Princess Jawhara!”
“Intay ilprincess, walla,” Jawhara grinned and picked her baby sister up and carried her down the stairs. Joori’s shrill giggles echoed through the house until they reached the dining area. The stunning morning light shone through the windows, illuminating every room perfectly. Jawhara smiled at the beautiful day taking course outside until a gorgeous arrangement of flowers caught her eye.
Joori grabbed Jawhara’s hand again, led her to them, and repeated, “Happy Birthday, Princess Jawhara!”
Jawhara laughed and shook her head, eyeing the magnificent Calla lilies – her favorite flower – which were surrounded by fragrant jasmines and white roses. A card was neatly tucked into a plastic prong, and curiosity got the best of Jawhara. She opened it to find a message written in the neatest handwriting:
9aba7 ilward, Jawharti..
Hope your day is as beautiful as these flowers :*
Yours,
Barookich

Jawhara laughed out loud in happiness and shock and surprise all mixed together – ‘What a lovely 7araka, but how the hell did he get my address?’ Jawhara wondered. “Awwww!” she sang out loud.
“Who are they from?” Joori asked, trying to catch a look at the card in Jawhara’s hand.
“From Fajer,” Jawhara replied, tucking the card into the pocket of her sweater and pulling out her phone. She dialed Mbarak’s number and he picked up before the first ring even ended.
“Jojo!” he exclaimed, the excitement in his voice.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you for the beautiful flowers, awal shay,” Jawhara smiled.
“Tistahlain wurood ildinya,” Mbarak sighed, his heart racing.
“Thank you.. Oo thani shay, how did you get my address?” Jawhara frowned playfully, pulling out a chair at the dining table and pouring herself a mug of chay 7aleeb.
“Ra7 tithbe7eeni, bes I remembered your license plate number and I made a few calls,” Mbarak explained guiltily.
“Hey!” she cried, trying not to laugh, “You stalker!”
“Shasawi ba3ad? Shloon anam wintay mo ra’6ya 3alay?” Mbarak smiled.
“Well, you made your point,” Jawhara bit her lip while stirring the sugar lumps into her tea.
“Does that mean we’re good?” Mbarak asked hopefully.
“Good oo bes?” Jawhara looked at the flowers gracing the table, “You scored major brownie points with me. Calla lilies are my favorite kind of flower.”
“Ashwa..,” Mbarak sighed.
“Wainik?” Jawhara asked, hearing the sound of his car’s engine in the background.
“Going to pick Whayeb up oo binroo7 Avenues; madri shino yabi min hnak.”
“Okay, have fun,” Jawhara took a sip of the hot tea. It gushed down her throat, leaving the sweet taste of cardamom and sugar to linger on her tongue. There was nothing she loved more than her morning tea.
“Inshallah; you too Joojti,” Mbarak grinned into the phone, and they both said their good-byes and take-cares before hanging up.

Wahab raced down the stairs when he heard Mbarak honk the horn. His mother stopped him right before he was about to open the door to leave. “Wain 3ala Allah?” Um Wahab asked.
Wahab kissed the crown of her head and told her he was going with Mbarak to the Avenues.
“Wilderasa?” she called out, irritated.
“Ba3dain, yuma,” Wahab opened the door and quickly rushed out before his mother could pester him about his studies. He climbed into the passenger seat of Mbarak’s Silverado and lit a cigarette as soon as they drove off.
The guys puffed on their cigarettes and listened to 3abood 5owaja in silence. “Ya Zeenaha Ayamah Oo Ma7la Leyaleeeh Yoom Ashragat Shams Il-Hana Fee Semaaaya! Sha3rah 3ala Katfiii Oo Kaffi Bayadeeh, Yiraded Al7aaani Weyesma3 ‘3enaaaya!”
“A5aiiiih!” Wahab sighed as he tapped his palm against the ledge of the open window. The cool breeze poured into the car, lacing itself into the thick cigarette smoke. To Mbarak and Wahab, these drives were just as pleasurable as sitting by the sea; the only element that was missing was the invigorating scent of the salty sea. They both sang along to the music, something which Nawaf and 3ammar saw as a sin because according to them, no one could attempt to sing 3abood 5owaja’s songs but 3abood 5owaja himself.
When they reached the Avenues, they parked in no time and strolled into the mall. They loved walking around malls when they were empty; the calming silence filling the wide walkways was always more enjoyable than the busy afternoons of pushing people to get through to the shops.

Wahab motioned for Mbarak to follow him into iCity. The colorful iPods and laptops decorated the shelves, making it hard for Wahab to decide which iPod he wanted to get Fajer; there were so many styles and colors with different capacities. He remembered Fajer’s iPod – a pink 4th generation Nano. He settle for a similar one, but he chose a striking sapphire blue color to remind her of the sea. As he paid for the iPod, the sales clerk informed him of the free engraving promotion – Wahab could engrave just about anything he wanted on the back of the iPod. He figured it would give the gift a nice personal touch, so he agreed. Mbarak helped him come up with a catchy phrase to put on the back of the iPod, and in a matter of ten minutes, the engraving was done and the guys went on their way to do a little more shopping before the mall became crowded.

+++++ 3abood 5owaja – Roo7i Fedaak (Ehda2 5a9 ;*) +++++

Mbarak washed his hands in the marble sink and splashed his face with cold water. He patted his face dry with a hand towel, and when he brought his face up to look at himself in the mirror, he heard muffled sounds coming from the dining room.
He pressed his ear gently against the crack of the door and strained to hear the inaudible voices of Huda and Reem. All he could hear was a loud “La2!” and fragments of words. He frowned and held his breath only to hear the words “Bint”, “Hara”, and “Rifeej”. Mbarak furiously twisted the hand towel around his fingers and threw it into the small straw basket. ‘It’s one thing to talk about me, but to talk about Jawhara is completely unnecessary!’ he thought to himself.
He pulled down the brass door handle and stormed into the dining room where Reem and Huda had suddenly shut up, forks in mid-air.
“Ana mashi,” Mbarak snapped.
Huda stood up from her seat, the shock of possibly having been found out settling in her chest. “Wain, 7abeebi? Ma kalait! Reem msawya 5osh 7ilo” she lied, trying to sweeten the tone of her voice as much as she could.
Mbarak put his hand up in protest. “Akramkum Allah,” he said quietly before he turned around and headed out the door.

Reem’s jaw dropped in utter shock as she watched Mbarak walk out the door and slam it behind him. Her mother turned to her and whispered, “T’hagain sima3?”
“Laa?!” Reem dropped her fork on the table angrily, “Shraayich??”
“Ga9ray 7issich,” Huda warned sternly, pushing herself away from the table. She stood up and paced to the living room where she finally sat down on the plush creamy sofa.
Reem followed her mother, flailing her hands every which way and cursing Jawhara.
“Shasawi feehum ya3ni?” her mother retorted, “Gooleeli shasawi?”
Reem huffed furiously and flung herself onto the couch, tears stinging her eyes. “Nothing,” she mumbled. Her thoughts raced to her previous relationships – 3abdulla.. Jaber.. 5alid.. They’d all ended the same way; they’d warn her about her long tongue countless times until she got burned. This time was no different. A tear threatened to roll down Reem’s cheek, but she bit her quivering lip and inhaled the sweet scent of musk that she’d rubbed on her wrists earlier.

Mbarak walked into his chalet to find Wahab laying on the couch and watching TV. Wahab turned his head up at Mbarak and asked, “How was the lunch?”
“Zbala,” Mbarak growled.
“Giltlik,” Wahab affirmed, sitting up and turning the TV volume down, “Sh9ar?”
Mbarak told Wahab about everything from the nosey questions to him eavesdropping on Huda and Reem. Wahab shook his head in disappointment and ran the “I Told You So” record for Mbarak.
“Adri; please mali 5ilg ilm3ayar,” Mbarak grumbled, “T’3adait?”
“La, tawni ga3id,” Wahab smiled, stretching his legs across the brown leather sofa.
“5anroo7 nakel gabel la n7ader,” Mbarak suggested sheepishly.
“Nakel?” Wahab turned away from the TV and laughed a deep belly laugh, “Inta mo tawwik bale3?”
Mbarak chuckled and threw his pack of cigarettes at the crook of Wahab’s shoulder. “Ma t’hanait walla; 3ugub illi sima3ta!”
“Take it as a lesson learned,” Wahab smiled and pushed himself off the leather sofa. “McDonald’s?”
“Ya5i, malait min McDonald’s! This weekend alone destroyed 3 weeks at the gym wilsibba hal McDonald’s!”
“Killa junk food in Bnaider,” Wahab shrugged, “Shrayik nakil bildeera a7san?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Mbarak sighed and sank into the auburn armchair, “Yalla, get dressed.”
While Wahab went into the bedroom to change his clothes, Mbarak called Jawhara. She picked up after the first ring, and he was overjoyed to hear her voice.
“Wainich, Joojti?” he spoke into the phone, a smile forming on his lips.
“Tawna 6al3een min Avenues. Mita btiyoon?” Jawhara frowned, struggling with the many shopping bags dangling from her arm.
“Ba3ad shway,” Mbarak replied. He continued to talk to her with one-word answers, his mind too busy thinking of a way to tell her about the lunch incident earlier without upsetting her. Before they hung up, Mbarak said, “Jawhara I need to talk to you about something.”
Jawhara chewed on her lower lip and frowned, “Shfeek?”
“Ba3dain agoolich,” Mbarak sighed, feeling like someone had punched him in the stomach.
“Is everything ok?” Jawhara pressed, her heart racing. She hated it when anyone kept her hanging and waiting to know what the problem was.
“Ma fee shay, Jojo; akalmich ba3dain,” Mbarak said quickly before telling her he had to go.

Jawhara held the phone in her hand and stared at “Something 7ilo ;* disconnected” until the text disappeared from the screen. She sighed heavily and Fajer turned to her, taking some of her shopping bags and loading them into the trunk of her car.
“Shfeech?” Fajer asked, worried that her friend’s relationship was spiraling down to a basket of heartaches already.
“Mbarak madri shfeeh,” Jawhara furrowed her brow, ”He says he needs to talk to me about something.”
“Waiiih 3abali 3indich salfa!” Fajer laughed as she walked around to get into the driver’s seat.
“Madri, Fajoor; I’m scared,” Jawhara confided in her best friend, “You know how guys say they need to talk to you, and then all of a sudden they start saying stuff like ‘I don’t think this is working out’ or something like that.”
“Babe, you’ve only known him for, what, three days?” Fajer smiled and pinched Jawhara’s cheek, “Don’t stress. I don’t think he’s going to say anything like that.”
“I hope not,” Jawhara rested her head against the beige strap of her seatbelt and stared out the window, watching the colorful numbered parking pillars disappear and turn into scrawny trees swaying in the blue-grey sky.

“You’re seriously thinking about telling her?” Wahab stared at Mbarak from the bedroom doorway, dumbfounded, “Tista3be6?”
“Shrayik Wahab?” Mbarak stood up and picked up his car keys from the coffee table. “I have to be honest.”
“Yeah, well your honesty is gonna cost you,” Wahab replied, pulling his T-shirt over his head.
“I’d rather be honest now than have her find out from someone later,” Mbarak’s eyes widened, “7abil ilchethb g9eer.”
“Who the hell is gonna tell her?” Wahab slid his feet into his sandals and picked up his overnight bag.
“Uhhh, you seriously think Reem and 5alti Huda would keep it to themselves?” Mbarak raised an eyebrow as they both headed out the door, locking the chalet behind them.
“Madri..” Wahab mumbled.

They drove back to the city in silence, thinking about their girls and how pulling the chalet out of the relationship will affect it. It is true that many Kuwaiti men have experienced the blinding love – where the girl is the center of their universe and everything else just revolves around her, and where diwaniyas and 3azayem are of little importance. But Mbarak and Wahab had always let the sea come between them and whoever was in their lives. It was like the sea was their true love; understanding their needs and satisfying their emotions, and best of all, listening without talking back. But this time, the sea was their glue. Without the magnificent ocean, Mbarak and Jawhara wouldn’t be, and neither would Fajer and Wahab. Like peeling off the binding spine of a novel, the pages will undoubtedly fall apart and fly away in the slightest breeze.
Mbarak nervously drummed his fingers on the leather steering wheel, thinking about whether or not he should tell Jawhara about the lunch incident. In both cases, he would feel terrible – if he did tell her, she’d most likely stop talking to him, and if he didn’t tell her, she’d find out eventually from someone else and it would be worse. In a lose-lose situation, what was he to do?

Mbarak drove into 3dailiya, twisting and turning through the streets that led to Wahab’s house. When they finally reached Wahab’s brightly lit white home, Wahab thanked Mbarak for the ride, grabbed his overnight bag and was about to turn around to walk inside when he warned Mbarak again, “Barook, min 9ijji – latgoollaha.”
Mbarak shrugged his shoulders and called back, “Allah kareem!” and drove off into the dim backstreet.
Wahab stood in front of the gates of his house, staring at the building as if he was unfamiliar with it. He dreaded the feeling of pushing the large carved wooden door open; he compared his house to Pandora’s Box – once the door was opened, the suffocating emotions and stress tackled him and ate him alive. Wahab took a deep breath, absorbing the intoxicating fumes of the ful plants that his mother had planted so many years ago. He remembered how simple life was back then; as simple as a ful flower plucked fresh from the garden and left to sit in an old Kraft cheese glass filled with water. Now, the turmoil consumed him and his family, and he had to find a way to clear his space and make room for his blossom, Fajer.
Wahab called her, and though he was elated to talk to her, his words were slow and slurry, as if he was winding down from a long night of belligerent drinking.
“Shfeek, Wahabi?” Fajer cooed into the phone, shaking the contents of her shopping spree out of their bags.
“Ma feeni shay, Fajoorti; I’m just tired,” he sighed, “Sh’hal 9oot?”
“Matshoof shar,” she pouted, “Sharait a’3rath!”
A real smile lit up Wahab’s face for the first time that day. “Oh yeah? What’d you buy?”
Fajer was taken aback by his question – none of the guy’s she’d ever met had ever showed any interest in her love for shopping or her purchases, and with excitement, she rattled off the list of things she’d bought.
“No iPod?” Wahab laughed as he paced around the garden, not wanting the conversation to end.
“Weeee!!” Fajer exclaimed, “I totally forgot about the iPod! Jawhara didn’t remind me; waaaaay!”
“La tista3yelain 3alaih,” Wahab said kindly, “Bynazloon the 16GB Nano next week.”
“16GB is too much for me,” Fajer giggled, “Ma 3indi wayid songs – I just put the ones I know I’m going to listen to oo a3aleg 3alaihum until I switch them again.”
“May5alef,” Wahab chuckled, “Ta3alay, what’s your favorite animal?”
“Faj2a!” she smiled, feeling her cheeks turn rosy pink, “I love penguins.”
“Penguins?” Wahab laughed out loud, “Sh’hal fa9la!”
“Laish? They’re cuuuute! Have you ever seen ‘Happy Feet’?” Fajer asked.
“I’ve never had time,” Wahab admitted, grinding the soles of his sandals into the green grass.
“Oh.. Well we’ll see it inshallah, and then you’ll understand why I love them so much,” Fajer smiled, her heart swelling with anticipation of dates and long phone calls that she’d been deprived of in the past.
“Inshallah,” Wahab said quietly. “Can I see you tomorrow?”
Fajer bit her lower lip, suppressing her huge excited grin that she knew he’d hear in her voice. “Sure; inta shoof when you’re free. Bes ma nidgar in6awel.”
“I know,” Wahab grinned, “Walla lo two minutes bes ashoofich a6ayeb 5a6ri.”
Fajer’s ears tingled with heat, “Aww, Wahabi.. Inshalla may9eer 5a6rik illa 6ayeb.”
“Ba3ad 3umri,” Wahab whispered. “Inzain I have to go inside, 9arli sina wagef barra oo 7addi bardan. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Inshallah,” Fajer replied, and they hung up. She swooned at the thought of seeing him again, and in an instant, Fajer felt like she was 15 years old again, experiencing her first real crush. That night, she lay in bed with a smile that kept broadening at the flashing beep of her mobile phone, alerting her of Wahab’s sweet text messages. It didn’t take long for Fajer to drift off to sleep; her happy heart felt as light as air, not weighing her down for the first time in long lonely months.

Wahab stood at the foot of the stairs leading to Mbarak’s patio, staring at Fajer and saluting. Fajer’s eyes widened and she quickly threw her towel over her waist, trying to cover up her glistening tummy.
“Shloonich?” Wahab called out to her, the flirty tone of his voice echoing against the soft rumble of the sea.
Fajer sucked her teeth and shook her head with a chuckle. To Fajer, everything about Wahab was wrong – the way he looked was nowhere near her usual standards. Sure, he had a handsome face, but unlike his friends, his hair was grown out to a medium length and was adorned with a string-thin stretchy headband. Fajer hated long hair on guys – she loved her men with shaved heads and neatly trimmed goatees. At least Wahab’s goatee looked neat. His body was well on it’s way to being toned and defined, but there was a tiny hint of a karsha remaining. ‘Must be all that machboos,’ Fajer thought.
Wahab stared at her through his reflective aviator shades and smiled. He pointed at the sea with his thumb as if to say ‘Are you coming?’.
“Ba3dain!” Fajer called to him across the distance, and as if to mock him, she pointed with her thumb at Jawhara’s chalet.
“Ah, okaaaay!” Wahab grinned, and called Nawaf and 3ammar out to help him wheel down the jet-skis.

Fajer slumped back onto her towel, trying to figure out how to get the oil out of her iPod. She shook it upside-down and patted it against her towel, but the clickwheel had stopped working and the screen was frozen with 3abdelmajeed’s song “Haibat Malik”.
“Wai3!” Fajer complained out loud, “iPodee!!” She shot a glance at Mbarak’s chalet, where the boys were already pushing the second jet-ski down the masannah. Wahab’s long arms were flexed, grabbing onto the handle of the jet-ski and pushing it out to the eager sea. ‘Why does he seem so attractive?’ Fajer pondered with a small smile. She pulled her shorts down just a centimeter to check if she’d gotten a tan; she still needed about an hour to get the color she wanted, but the carrot gunk was working it’s magic.

After the third jet-ski had been thrusted into the sea, Nawaf and 3ammar pushed against the tepid waves and climbed onto the first two. Wahab kneeled at the shore, cooling off his burning hands in the salt water. He looked over at Fajer, who was still baking under the warm sunshine. On impulse, he sprang up from the wet sand and hopped over to her. “Fajoor?” he called.
Fajer raised an eyebrow and squinted at the voice. “Hi,” she replied nonchalantly, and immediately asked, “How do you know my name?”
Wahab plastered a cheesy smile on his face and pointed his thumb at Jawhara’s chalet, as Fajer did earlier. ‘Jawhara! I’m gonna kill her!’ Fajer thought.
“I’m Wahab,” he introduced himself casually.
“I know,” Fajer replied, shielding her eyes from the sun rays.
“How do you know my name?” Wahab teased, rubbing his hand down the back of his neck. He could feel the sun burning his upper back.
“I just know,” Fajer replied with a mischievous smile.
Wahab laughed, “Well, fur9a sa3eeda. Tirkebeen jet wiyana?”
‘Is this guy forward, or what?!’ Fajer thanked him and politely declined, explaining that it would be unfair to leave Jawhara out of the fun. Truth is, there was no way Fajer or Jawhara would ride a jet-ski with a guy she didn’t even know. “Maybe next week?” she suggested.
“7ayach anytime! Oo nice tan,” Wahab wrinkled his nose, smiled, and waved at Fajer before he ran back to his waiting friends.

Fajer sighed as an uneasy feeling settled in her chest. She scolded herself for her selfish tendency of pushing guys away, even when they were so obviously interested in her. “One heartbreak is enough. I don’t want or need another one,” she’d tell Jawhara.
“But how do you know that he’s gonna break your heart if you don’t give him a chance?” Jawhara would reply, and Fajer would dismiss the subject, saying something about how stupid men don’t deserve any chances.
At that moment, she remembered Jawhara. Jawhara was a perfect candidate for someone who’d had their heart broken repeatedly, and a prime example of a fighter who kept going to war with her mind when her heart was too weak to say no. ‘But look at her now,’ Fajer mused, ‘One smile, and she’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her!’
Was it because of Bnaider? Would she have been this happy if this whole scenario had taken place back in Kuwait City? ‘No’, she decided, ‘It must be the chalet. This doesn’t happen anywhere else.’

The starting of the jet-ski engines interrupted Fajer’s thoughts, and she watched Wahab, Nawaf, and 3ammar swerve off into the aquatic mass. The jet-skis created a foamy white trail as they zig-zagged through the waves. Fajer smiled; to her, this was what Bnaider was all about – the correlation between the body, the heart, and the sea. When they all worked together, it heightened the experience of escaping the buzzing city.
“Wainhi Jawhara?” Fajer asked herself, “Ma 9arat hal nooma!”

Rose burst out of the chalet’s glass door, “PUJEEEEER!” she called in her nasal voice, gesturing with her hands, “Jawhara seeeeeeck!”
“What’s wrong?!” Fajer shouted, springing up from her towel and running back inside the chalet.
“Too much vomiting!” Rose looked scared.
“Where is she??” Fajer cried, her eyes searching the living room.
“Bat-room!” Rose replied. Fajer ran into the bathroom and found Jawhara hunched over the porcelain toilet, retching and crying.
“Jawhara!” Fajer knelt next to her best friend and pulled her hair away from her face, “May5alif, 7abeebti, Jooj. Breathe; relax.”
Jawhara sobbed, “I feel disgusting, Fajoor, a7is ba6ni bye6la3 min 7alji!”
“Inzain wash your face oo shirbay 7aleeb; you’ll feel better!” Fajer advised.
Jawhara grunted and picked herself up off the bathroom floor, and Fajer led her to the kitchen where she poured her a warm glass of milk. Jawhara drank slowly, and leaned against the kitchen counter, resting her head against the dark granite.
“Do you wanna go outside?” Fajer asked. The sun wasn’t as strong as it was earlier, but the warm rays might help Jawhara feel a little better. Jawhara nodded and put on her Abercrombie hoodie, and they both walked back out onto the beach.

“Intay gayla 7ag Wahab ismi?” Fajer asked, raising her eyebrows.
Jawhara smiled sheepishly. “Sorry,” she said, the drowsiness thick in her voice, “Bes he’s a cutie oo he likes you, fa laish la2?”
“I know, yishaweg, bes a7is he’s too forward. It’s either that, or inna ma yadri wain Allah ga6a!”
Jawhara couldn’t help but laugh, “Laish, sh9aar?”
Fajer told Jawhara about the morning’s incident, lamenting over her deceased iPod and explaining the way Wahab had just walked over and asked her to ride jet-skis with him.
Jawhara snickered – she knew that Wahab was a little 3abee6, but that’s why she figured he’d be a good match for Fajer. In Jawhara’s opinion, Fajer needed to loosen up a little and let someone in. “Give it a shot,” Jawhara shrugged her shoulders, “He can’t be that bad. Can he?”

Jawhara recognized the blond girl she’d seen earlier that morning. Her chest constricted, and as if to boast her title as Mbarak’s girl, she wrapped her arm around his torso and lightly lay her head on his shoulder.
“Shfeech, Jojo?” Mbarak asked Jawhara lovingly, “Bardana?”
“Ee,” Jawhara lied, as Reem walked closer to them.

She was wearing close to nothing, but at least she was a little more covered than she was in the morning. A sheer black tunic draped her body, showing off a skimpy white bikini underneath. ‘Does this girl own any clothes?’ Jawhara wondered, feeling a little ashamed for Reem.
“Hi.. Mbarak?” Reem called, ignoring Jawhara’s presence.
“5air?” Mbarak replied coldly. The butterflies in Jawhara’s stomach turned into giant wheels, turning and churning until she felt sick. Why was Mbarak talking to her?
“Shloonik?” Reem flirted, a hint of excitement in her voice. She stood about two meters away from them; close enough for Mbarak to hear her, but far enough for him to get a good look. Much to Reem’s dismay, Mbarak didn’t look in her direction at all. He ignored her question completely and turned to Jawhara, who was staring at the sand and shuffling her feet, just as she did when he first met her.
Mbarak stroked Jawhara’s wet hair, sensing her discomfort. “Ngoom?”
Jawhara nodded quickly, and they got up slowly, their muscles still tense from the cold sea. Mbarak bundled Jawhara into the fluffy towel and put his arm around her protectively.
“Tara 3aib tgoom wana ga3da a7acheek,” Reem snapped loudly, still standing in her place.
Mbarak ignored her once again and led Jawhara to his chalet. Enraged at the blatant rejection, Reem stomped back to her chalet, looking back one last time at Mbarak hugging Jawhara. “In ma 6ayya7tik, ma a6la3 bint ubooy,” Reem said to herself.

At Mbarak’s chalet, the boys were still sitting out on the patio like they always do.
“Good to see you came back with the right girl,” 3ammar teased Mbarak over the crackling music.
Jawhara managed to smile at his joke, and Mbarak then introduced her to his friends.
“Wain rifeejtich?” Wahab asked, unabashed.
“Moo chithee ashkara, Whayeb!” Nawaf kicked the plastic leg of Wahab’s chair.
“3adi, shino ya3ni,” Wahab bit his tongue mischievously.
Jawhara whipped her head around to look at him and grinned, “Fajoor nayma.”
“Fajoooor!”, Wahab exclaimed with a wide smile, “Gooleelha ‘Wahab yigoolich noom il3awafi Fajoora’,” Wahab chuckled.
“Yo9al inshallah,” Jawhara laughed.

Mbarak and Jawhara didn’t say a word to one another while Nawaf, 3ammar, and Wahab chit-chatted over 3abood 5owaja’s songs. Mbarak’s heart panged with guilt – he knew that replying to Reem was a disrespect to Jawhara.
“La tiz3eleen minni, Jojo,” he spoke softly into the curve of Jawhara’s neck.
Jawhara flinched – she wasn’t sure if it was because she really was annoyed that Mbarak talked back to Reem, or if it was because of the clash of the cold night air and Mbarak’s warm breath. “Ana mo za3lana,” she shook her head, “Ana bes ba3aref shino bainik oo bainha?”
“Wallah ma baini oo bainha shay; min 9ijjich, Jawharti?” he said defensively.
She couldn’t help but melt when he called her ‘Jawharti’ – ‘my jewel’. She peered into his eyes for a hint of deceit, but was won over by the earnest glint in his eyes. “Then?” she demanded to know.
“Ihya min ziman chithee. Killa tshoofna nazleen ba7ar oo min ziman she’s been trying to get my attention.”
“Shmi3na inta?” Jawhara inquired, almost accusingly.
“Shdarani!” Mbarak exclaimed, “Walla, ma li shi’3il feeha!”
“3ayal laish trid 3alaiha?” Jawhara’s voice quivered. She was afraid that her sensitivity would overcome her strength and that she would start to cry.
Mbarak’s face softened and he wrapped her in his muscular arms and kissed her on the crown of her head. “Ba3ad 3umri!” he pleaded, “La tiz3ileen minni! Walla radait 3alaiha because I didn’t want to be too rude! Ma shifteeni 7egart’ha oo mishait 3anha?”
Jawhara nodded silently, her trembling chin rubbing against the smooth crook of Mbarak’s elbow.
With his face inching closer to hers, Mbarak whispered, “Jawhara.. Jawharti.. Joojti..”
“Hmm?” Jawhara whimpered, her heart softening at the sound of her name from his lips.
“Tiz3ileen min Barookich?” he coaxed.
And with that, Jawhara gave in – there was no possible way she could resist his charm. She shook her head with a smile and mustered up the most serious facial expression she could, “La t3eed’ha mara thanya.”
“Walla I wont,” Mbarak smiled sincerely, so happy that she wasn’t upset with him, “Shli bilnujoom dam ilgumar ma3ay? Ay nujoom, ba3ad, hathi ma tiswa charaqi!”
Jawhara giggled, nudging him playfully. He kissed her freezing fingertips and rubbed them with both his hands.

The deep azure sky that was sprinkled with stars washed into a purple haze, the stars fading into space. Somehow, the splashing sound of the waves grew louder, although the deep blue tide was still high. A single seagull flapped in the horizon, signaling the arrival of dawn, and it wasn’t long before the first ray of light sprouted from the edge of the sea. ‘Sub7an Allah,’ Jawhara thought, ‘How the entire setting and mood of the ba7ar changes in just a couple of hours!’
With sleepy eyes and a weak smile, she greeted the break of day. Even though Mbarak’s arms were still wrapped around her, holding her close, nothing gave Jawhara warmth more than seeing the start of a brand new day at Bnaider.
“Di5t,” she sighed.
“7ita ana, walla,” Mbarak confessed, trying to suppress a yawn, “Bitnameen?”
“Ee walla, ta3abt,” Jawhara yawned.
“Yalla, 5al awa9lich,” he offered, getting up from the ridge of the patio and extending his arm to Jawhara. She grabbed his hand and pulled herself up, and in an extreme state of dizziness, she toppled against his toned body.
He supported her with his left arm and helped her walk back to the chalet. This time, he walked her to the glass door, where he could see her walk into the living room and fall into a deep sleep on the couch.
Assured that Jawhara was safe, Mbarak walked back to his chalet and fell asleep on the couch without changing his clothes or washing the white traces of sea salt that decorated his back.

The morning sun rose and shone through the giant windows of Jawhara’s chalet. Fajer was surprised to see her sleeping best friend draped on the couch, still dressed in the adorable ensemble she had worn on her date.
“Jojo,” Fajer hummed, shaking Jawhara gently.
“Mmm..,” Jawhara mumbled.
“Goomay, Jooj, warana ba7ar – today’s our last day!” she reminded her.
“Fajoor,” Jawhara groaned, “Rasi byinfijir oo I think ma5tha bard.”
“Haa! Salamat, babe, min shino? Shsawaitaw ams?” Fajer asked.
“Siba7na bilail. It was amazing; I’ll tell you everything lama agoom,” Jawhara croaked. “You go,” her hand flopped on her pillow, “I’ll catch up.”
“Akeed?” Fajer worried. Jawhara nodded her head against her pillow. “ROOOSE!” Fajer yelled, “Make tea for Jawhara, please!”
Jawhara frowned at Fajer’s shrill voice and drifted back to sleep, thinking about Mbarak and hoping he didn’t feel as horribly sick as she did.

Fajer walked out to the seashore and decided she would lay out and tan until Jawhara woke up and swam with her. There was no fun in swimming alone, at least for Fajer.
She spread her towel out on the hot dry sand and sat down, greasing herself up with three different tan-enhancing products. Her favorite was the carrot gunk, as she called it. It felt so buttery and rich on her skin, and always gave her the best tan.
Almost an hour passed with Fajer baking under the sun – though her eyes were closed, she could hear and feel Bnaider waking up, chalet by chalet. She wished Jawhara would wake up and enjoy it, but she knew they’d be back next weekend.

“Ya 9aba7 ilward!” Fajer heard a voice call out. When she sprang up to see who was talking, she knocked the open bottle of Johnson’s baby oil over, spilling most of its contents on her brand new iPod nano.
“WAAAAAAY LA2!” she almost screamed in anger, dabbing her iPod with the corner of her towel, trying to get most of the baby oil off. “Moo 9ij!!”
Grunting in frustration, she looked up to see who the culprit was. For that instant, Fajer forgot about her ailing iPod, and felt her insides turn to mush.

Jawhara felt the tug of Mbarak’s hands as he moved away.
“Ta3alay,” he persuaded her with his soft voice.
“Wain?” she asked, frustrated, and took an uneasy step forward. She felt the distance between them lessen, but as soon as she was reassured, Mbarak took another step back.
“Garbay,” Mbarak said, ignoring her question, “And keep your eyes closed.”
The clap of the lapping waves grew louder, and the sand under their bare feet grew more wet with every step. A light mist of salty water tickled their calves, and Jawhara tensed up with fear.
“Inta min 9ijjik?” she asked sternly with her eyes still closed.
“Shhh..” Mbarak hushed her, “You promised you wouldn’t let go.”
“And I’m keeping my promise,” Jawhara said confidently, but her insides were bubbling with panic.
With his back to the sea, Mbarak took cautious steps back, careful not to drag Jawhara or himself onto a bed of rocks or something equally painful. The water had reached their ankles, and the cold temperature greeted them harshly.
“7aram 3alaik, Barook! Bard!” Jawhara complained.
Mbarak moved closer to Jawhara and whispered in her ear, “Ana adafeech.”
An exhilarating chill shot up and down Jawhara’s spine. Their feet grew accustomed to the iciness of the sea, and after countless squeals and giggles, Jawhara and Mbarak were up to their chests in the sinister black sea. Their clothes clung to their bodies as if in fear of the dark water.
“Open your eyes,” Mbarak said, letting go of her hands and holding her shivering body close.

The sight was so foreign to Jawhara; this wasn’t the sea she knew. Everything, which was nothing, looked so mysterious and sad. Her eyes searched the surface of the water, looking for something; anything that would break the unusual calm.
“The sea is sleeping,” Mbarak said in a voice so soft that only Jawhara could hear, “We’re the only ones who are awake.”
The thrill of being so alive in such a huge quiet mass overwhelmed Jawhara, and even more so when Mbarak asked her to look up at the sky. Thousands of stars, some more tiny than others, twinkled in the crisp clear night. For once, the horizon was hard to identify, and for the first time in her life, Jawhara felt like she was floating in a giant black hole.
“This is amazing,” she told Mbarak with the wonder sparkling in her eyes.
He grinned, “I knew you’d love it.” Mbarak held her closer to him, allowing her head to rest on his damp shoulder. “Jawharti,” he began.
“Mmm?” Jawhara replied. The pacifying calm of the black sea had drawn her into the highest state of relaxation she’d ever experienced.
Gathering up his courage, Mbarak whispered, “7addich ityannineen.”
A blissful smile painted Jawhara’s lips, and she looked up at Mbarak, her heart racing a mile a minute. “You’re perfect,” she whispered back, and returned her head to it’s comfortable spot on his shoulder.
And with the innocence of a child, Mbarak pressed his soft lips against Jawhara’s right cheek, leaving them to linger for a few seconds. The butterflies in Jawhara’s stomach fluttered wildly up to her ribcage and dwindled in her throat. She sighed and tightened her hold on Mbarak, keeping her promise of never letting go.

After what seemed like hours of deep conversation and swirling around in the salty sea, Mbarak and Jawhara sloshed out of the sea. A layer of dry sand stuck to their wet feet, and while Mbarak tried to wash Jawhara’s toes with handfuls of seawater, she tried her best to wring out the moisture from the front of her tunic. ‘At least,’ she thought to herself, ‘So that he doesn’t see the outline of my bra or anything like that.’
She hugged herself when the midnight zephyr blew, trying to warm herself so that she didn’t catch a cold.
“Bardana?” Mbarak asked, the worry in his eyes. At that instant, he regretted his spontaneity.
She nodded as he lovingly cocooned his arms around her, protecting her from the wispy breeze. “I had fun,” Jawhara chirped with a smile, burying her face into Mbarak’s wet chest.
“7ita ana,” he kissed the top of her head and stroked the length of her back.

In a huddle, they shuffled back to Jawhara’s chalet where the girls’ towels were hanging out to dry from earlier that day. Jawhara grabbed both towels, but Mbarak told her that they only needed one. Choosing the larger towel, she walked back to where he was sitting on the garden ledge. She wrapped the towel around him, and he waited for her to sit down and lean against him. Mbarak cloaked her with the right half of the colorful beach towel, and as if they couldn’t get enough, they wistfully stared at the bobbing sea.
“I wish I was a mermaid,” Jawhara smiled.
“You’re my mermaid,” Mbarak grinned at her childlike confession, “Awal marra ashoof wa7da t7ib ilba7ar halkithir!”
“Amoot 3alba7ar!” she told him.
“Smilla 3alaich,” he whispered, and kissed her shoulder.
They sat in a comfortable silence, and in the distance, 3abood 5owaja’s tremoring voice sang. “Ana Lahi Ma3a Kitabi, Ligaitik Killik Awraaagi! Alaa Ya 7ubbi Il-Awal, Alaa Ya ’3ayiti Mishtaaag!”
“3abood 5owaja?” Jawhara giggled.
The look in Mbarak’s eyes spoke volumes. “Ya 7ilwich, Jojo,” he sighed, holding her close.

“Wai3, waiiii3!” Wahab’s deep voice sliced through the thin night air.
“Shfee hatha, ba3ad?” Mbarak laughed as Jawhara and he both turned to see what was going on.

+++++ 3abood 5owaja – Il-Gloob Il-Sahiya +++++

Fajer had to drag Jawhara away from the window so she could eat dinner. “Eklay, tara 7abeebich mara7 yi6eer!” she joked, “And nothing’s more embarrassing than your stomach grumbling while you’re with a guy because he’ll think you have to pass gas.”
Jawhara quickly swallowed a large lump of her pizza without chewing and let out a loud laugh. “Fajoor cham marra agoollich, don’t make me laugh when I’m eating! One of these days bashreg 3ala my food oo it’ll be your fault!”
The gooey cheese pizza disappeared slice by slice, and after the girls had finished eating, Fajer helped Jawhara get ready for her midnight rendezvous.

“I don’t wanna look like a clown, Fajoor, please,” Jawhara pleaded under Fajer’s merciless hands.
“You won’t, babe, walla shaklich bykoon 7ilo,” Fajer coaxed as she applied mascara onto Jawhara’s already-thick eyelashes.
When she looked in the mirror, Jawhara thanked God that her make-up was extremely light, yet still made her look different. She secretly hoped Mbarak would notice.
“Don’t look too casual,” Fajer warned, “Lazim you keep him on his toes!”
“Shalbis, 3ayal?” Jawhara wondered, staring at the contents of her weekender bag.
“What about this?” Fajer held up a ruffley skirt from her own bag, “With a white t-shirt?”
“Laaa,” Jawhara shook her head, “Too.. madri shloon. What about this?” Jawhara pulled out her jade bohemian tunic. “With white shorts?”
“Perfect!” Fajer smiled, “Yalla get ready, you don’t have much time.”

Mbarak stood outside Jawhara’s chalet, waiting for her to come out. As soon as he saw her walking out towards him, an undeniable surge of happiness pulsated through his body, lighting his glowing face with his magical smile.
“Yah, yah! Sh’hal jamaaal!” he beamed, causing Jawhara’s face to turn a million shades of pink.
“Asti-,” she began, but Mbarak shushed her as he slipped his arm around her shoulder.
“La tisti7een, Jojo, cham marra bagoollich, ya3ni?” Even when he was stern, he was gentle and soft-spoken. Jawhara’s stomach flipped with excitement.
From the chalet’s windows, Fajer watched her best friend walk away looking so perfectly happy. She thanked God under her breath that Jawhara was finally happy and smiled to herself.

“Where are we going?” Jawhara inquired, curious.
“Nitmasha. Laish, you wanted to go somewhere?” Mbarak asked, hoping Jawhara wouldn’t want to leave the beach. The night was too perfect to be spent driving around in a car.
“No, this is perfect,” she replied with a shy smile.
“Good,” he smiled back.
Mbarak slipped his hand into hers, and Jawhara’s heart throbbed with delight. They walked under the silvery moonlight, exchanging nervous chuckles and getting used to the feeling of their fingers interlocked. Mbarak mentally studied the feeling of her palm against his – her hands were so tiny and soft; such a nice feeling against his leathery palm.
Jawhara broke the ice, “Did you see that girl today? 7mdilla wishikir, bay3at’ha!”
“Eee! Allah yaster 3alaiha bes, hathi ma3roof 3anha mo 9a7ya,” Mbarak said, his thick eyebrows knotting together.
Jawhara and Mbarak walked and talked some more, the tension between them easing up by the minute. Mbarak proved himself more intelligent than Jawhara imagined, talking to her with such vigor about things that normally wouldn’t interest her, like cars and the stock market. She wasn’t sure whether it was because his voice was so soothing, or because his knowledge succeeded that of any guy his age, but Jawhara was so obviously captivated. She hung onto his every word, savoring it’s resonance in her ear. When Jawhara spoke, Mbarak appreciated her honesty and her knowledge of current events, and he adored the way she had her own girly way of describing things. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

After walking a considerable distance, Jawhara complained about her aching feet. Mbarak offered her a piggy-back ride, but she bashfully declined. However, he insisted, stooping in front of her and motioning for her to climb on.
“Barook, walla thigeela. Ra7 tit3ab!” she tried to reason with him.
“Yalla 3ad, Jojo! Climb on!” he persisted.
“Kaifik. Bes if I break your back, la tit7al6am oo tashki!” Jawhara warned with a giggle. She straddled his back, and he lifted her with ease.
“Oof! Yal dobba! Ya butamba!” Mbarak teased, straining his voice for effect.
“HEY!” Jawhara pouted, “Tara walla anzil!”
“5aleech, mama,” he laughed, and carried her all the way back to the chalet.
“Am I really heavy?” she asked.
“Reesha!” he declared, “Walla ga3d at’3ashmar, Jojo!”
Jawhara hugged his neck tighter, inhaling his sweet scent. YSL L’Homme – she recognized it right off the bat. It was her favorite men’s cologne, and the fact that Mbarak wore it only made him more desirable to her.

Along the way, Jawhara sensed Mbarak’s breaths getting deeper, so she slid off his back and walked by his side. He immediately held her hand; he didn’t want a moment to pass by where they weren’t in contact. When they reached Mbarak’s chalet, 3ammar, Wahab and Nawaf were sitting out on the patio with their radio, smoking cigarettes and listening to 3abdel3aziz Al-’6wai7i.
“Haa, Bu Fahad!” Nawaf called out to Mbarak.
“Hala walla,” Mbarak called back.
“Lat6awil 3alaina,” 3ammar teased, nodding his head to acknowledge Jawhara.
“Eee, ee! Mo t6awil! Nabeek!” Wahab joked.
“Roo7aw zain,” Mbarak laughed, squeezing Jawhara’s hand affectionately.
“Mako 3abood 5owaja tonight?” Jawhara asked timidly.
Mbarak looked at her and smiled his million-dollar smile, “Maybe later.”

They walked a little farther, passing Jawhara’s chalet and several more. The cool damp sand beneath their feet was appeasing, and Mbarak led Jawhara to a clean spot on the sand where they could sit.
Jawhara leaned against his shoulder as they watched the tide roll in. The black sea looked so different than it did during the day. During the day, the shining sun speckled the bottle green sea with golden glitter, whereas at night, the moon reflected silver shards on the trembling ink.
“3umrich seba7tay billail?” Mbarak asked softly.
“In the sea? La, bes I’ve always wanted to,” Jawhara admitted. It’s like he’d read her mind.
“A7la shu3oor,” he whispered into her hair, breathing in it’s fruity scent.
“9ij?” Jawhara turned to face Mbarak. His face was so dangerously close to hers, but she knew better.
“Yalla?” he asked playfully, holding both of her hands tightly.
“Yalla what?” Jawhara asked.
Mbarak stood up abruptly, pulling Jawhara to her feet with him.

‘Is our date over? This is it?’ Jawhara worried, thinking that maybe being too physically close to Mbarak gave him the wrong impression. She wanted to kick herself. “Wain ray7een?” she asked, confused.
“Jawhara, close your eyes,” Mbarak prompted. Jawhara, more puzzled than ever, followed his instructions. He picked up both of her hands again, holding them tightly. “Promise me you won’t let go.”
“Mbarak?-” she began nervously.
“Just promise me, Jojo, shfeech?” his tone was comforting.
After a short pause, with her eyes still closed and her brow furrowed, Jawhara promised.
Mbarak then took a long step back.

Ala’a watched the two cars behind her from her rear-view mirror as she waited at the traffic light. Two young mit7ajba women squeezed, giant 7ijab and all, in a red Porsche Turbo that seemingly wasn’t their own by the way the were driving it. The woman…