Halal Heartbeat

Chapter 1

Manal

Breathe. Please breathe.

"Clear!"

Beeeeeeeeeep.

"Clear!" "Dr.Mahmoudi, I don't think this is going to-'' "Trust me."

Beeeeeeeeeeeep. He's gone.

*One hour later*

"Do you want to break the news?" I'm hesitant but accept. I take a deep breath and walk toward the family. "I don't know how to say this, but, I'm sorry for your loss. He was so strong throughout treatment." Mrs. Chow breaks down in front of me while her husband tries to comfort me. I look down at my feet. You don't really know what to say when someone dies throughout the surgery. You can't just say something like,

"Oh yeah, sorry, your kid just died."

After making sure they were taking it a little better, I head to the doctor and nurse's lounge. "Hey, what's up?" My best friend, Mia asks. We met at the local mosque around three years ago while she was converting. We figured out we worked at the same hospital and pretty much hit it off. She was a nurse, and I was a doctor. "Not good, unfortunately. The Chow's son just passed away. I couldn't save him, Mia," I hate being so emotional in front of people. It just shows how vulnerable and soft I am. "Oh honey, it's not your fault." She gives me a hug, and for once I don't flinch. I let her arms wrap around me like a blanket.

I read the clock.

11:45 pm

Sighing deeply, I roll over from the pull-out couch. It's about time I left for home. I pull out my cell phone and dial my sister's number. "Manal?" She asks. "Just wanted to let you know I'm on my way home from my shift at the hospital." She gives a weak chuckle. "Ok. How'd it go? Did the operation succeed?" I stay silent for a moment then answer. "Oh. I see. Ok well Mama, Baba, and Ahmed are awake. I'm going to bed, but see you in the morning, Inshallah." I smile. "Inshallah." As I shut the line, Mia walks in. "Heading home?" I nod. She smiles and gives me another hug. "Bye. Text me, ok?"

When I knock on the door, Ahmed answers right away. He sticks his tongue out at me, and I return the favour. Ahmed is nineteen, eleven years younger than me; which makes me thirty-one. We have a big age gap, but we get along pretty well. Amina though, she's twenty-four years old. Which, unfortunately, makes me, the oldest. I take a big breath of air and smile.

Traditional Moroccan food.

"Mama, I told you not to cook, it's fine. You don't need to tire yourself, if I'm hungry I'll help myself." I complain. She smiles her warm smile. "No, Habibti, you just got out of a shift." Baba comes up and kisses my forehead. "Hey Chère, how are you?" I hug and kiss his cheek. "Better now, Alhamdullallah." Suddenly all my worries go away. "Yallah, yallah! Set the table, Ahmed." My brother groans and I smile cheekily, but get up to help him. I take a bite of my chicken tagine. "Mashallah mama, c'est très bien." My mom scoffs. "You're speaking more French than you are Arabic." A tired Amina walks down the staircase, looking like a zombie. We all laugh and continue eating our wholesome meal.

Mazin

Crash! Bang! Clank!

"Saleh, leave him alone, please!" My mom rushes by my side. "Get away. This is between him and me." My dad pushes her away, lightly. But she still continues wailing and crying. "I'm leaving," I mutter under my breath. "That's what you always do. Leave. Quit! You'll never amount to anything if you keep getting into trouble!" He scolds. "Please, Saleh, he's only a boy-'' My dad cuts my mom off. "No, Leena. He's a man now. Why do you always insist on defending him?" As I grab my coat and head out of the house, I still hear my parents bickering. But I couldn't care less. I snatch my keys out of my pocket and start my car. It was a gift from my dad; a red sports car. With light strips and everything. I drive and drive until I reach downtown. There I find a lounge. I walk in and plop down at my usual booth. "What can I get you sir?" The waiter asks. "A pot of coffee and a pipe of shisha," He looks up from his notepad. "What hint?"
"Mint." He walks away and I pull out my cell phone.

5 missed calls from Mama
2 unread messages from Mama
6 unread emails

I sigh and stuff it back into my pocket. "Here you go," The waiter hands me my coffee and pipe. I inhale deeply and take a big poof.

Finally, at relaxation.