A silent cry

35

my mom insisted that I read Quran to her, so every night no matter how tired I was I would recite a surah. she never let me read it quickly

"no Jabil, you have to slow down so you can hear just how beautiful it sounds with tajweed"

I didn't really care. sometimes I almost fell asleep while reciting but she would force me to stand up and recite while walking around the sala. At first, my voice kind of sounded weird and I felt like I was being too extra trying to make it sound all good. My mother insisted though and my voice was getting better. I could actually understand why my mother might have enjoyed hearing it. Her favorite surah was al insan so I would often repeat it to her when she would get mad at me. it always calmed her down 

"Why is the insan your favorite surah?" I asked 

"When you read it, you sound exactly like your father. he used to recite the Quran when he would return from work sometimes and I would listen and memorize"

"he taught you Quran?" I can't say, dad. it just doesn't feel right on my tongue. it feels forced in a way.

"yes, and he taught me how to read and write"

I don't know what to say so I continue reciting. That was nice of him, I feel proud that he taught her. I always assumed he was more of a man who only does what men do. go to work and come home to dinner. I've never read the letters he left my mom. now I kind of want to.

I head out to my room then I stop, I'm really curious about what type of man  my father used to be. I can't really remember what influneced my view of my dad before. maybe Sultana, maybe the cosntant reminder that i failed to carry his name and damaged it instead or maybe  when I cursed him out and was faced with my mother's anger instead. I don't actually know him.

"good night ya Qamar," my mom says from behind me. I turn around and my body moves on its own "mama is it okay if I saw some of the messages baba left you or a message" I'm not really sure how much she has of them.

she enthusiastically says she'll find one for me. i see her rummage through them trying to pick  out a good one. "you can show it to me when you find the good one ill just go to sleep now."

"Okay jabaili" she nods and continues to look through them. I throw myself on my bed face down

"don't sleep on your stomach Jabil," mama says from the sala. she knows me too well. i turn around and knock out.

***

I feel the sun coming through the window, I lift myself off the bed. I quickly get ready because I wanted to know Marwa's plan already. On the way out I notice my mama sleeping over the notes and there were four laid out beside her. Her stance was terrible. Sometimes I wonder how she took care of me when she obviously needs someone to take care of her. I try lifting her up, she wasn't heavy but i just  wasn't strong enough. 

I put a blanket next to her and a pillow then I roll her onto it. I cover her up with another blanket. She opens her eyes a little bit dizzy she mumbles things that don't make sense. Something about the sunset.

I pick up the four notes and put them in the cabinet I'll just read them tomorrow I was going to be late. I lock the door and speed walk. I see Marwa under her Apple tree waiting.

I take one and wait for her to say her plan.
"You know it's haram to take the fruit off of other people's trees," she said
"But your not other people" I've known her since we were kids. This wasn't stealing.

She starts telling me a story about a man who picked out an apple because he was hungry but since it was haram to steal he went to tell the owner of the garden that he had stolen an apple and how the garden owner made the man marry his daughter in exchange but the trick was he had to accept her because she was blind, deaf, mute and paralyzed.

She pauses "would you have married her because you stole an apple"

I don't know. "I wouldn't have even told the man I took the apple" i shrugged. 
She rolls her eyes "that's your loss, it turned out the girl wasn't any of those things but she was the prettiest, kindest, and most innocent, her dad just couldn't find anyone reliable or worthy to marry her so when he saw this man behind so concerned about one apple that he took while he has encountered so many other people who take his apples, he felt like he was the one.

"Did the guy say yes"
"He thought about it and he was worried, he even tried to ask for another way he could repay the garden owner but when everything was rejected the man accepted, he was mostly afraid because he also didn't know how he was going to care for her he had very little resources, so in the end, because he was such a nice, truthful, and genuine man he said yes and in exchange, he married the most beautiful woman who knew no bad, spoke no bad, and did only good" 

I swallow my last bite of the apple. one apple can change a man's destiny how crazy is that? Maryam suddenly picks up the space coming close. 

"Jabil Mansoor, you owe me and not just once but many times for all the apples you've stolen from my tree"

she's crazy. she saw me take them and never said anything it wasn't stealing. plus what can I do 

"what am I supposed to do. Marry you now?" I laugh at the statement coming out of my lips

she doesn't say anything. why isn't she laughing, it's a joke! I look at her and she's serious. the turtle is actually serious. 

"no offense Marwa Rakaz but i can't love you and i refuse to marry you over the debt of an apple" I can hardly stand her I'm just walking her because no woman ever deserves to be attacked like that and if she had a brother I would've left the responsibility to him. 

"Who said anything about love, someone like you wouldn't know love even if it hit him in the back of the head," she said defensively, "I'm just saying  how Allah is blessing you with this once in a lifetime opportunity to repent for the things you stole, repentance is key Mansoor"

"Are you serious right now?" she can't be. 

"a hundred percent," she says

how can someone be so smart and yet so stupid?

"Marwa this isn't even funny. do you understand what marriage means? it means i'll be tied to someone like you for life.