• f o u r t e e n •

705 57 23
                                        

Dina

    I still couldn’t wrap my head around going to Australia! Farouz had only told me yesterday, and the second we got home he said to start packing. “Plane leaves tomorrow at noon,” he yawned, running his hands through his hair.

    Slipping off my sandals, I gaped, “tomorrow? Farouz! Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I hate packing under pressure. And I’m really sleepy right now.”

    Throwing himself on the couch, Farouz said, “I wanted to be spontaneous.”

    “Well,” I sat down next to him, and my husband instinctively placed his head in my lap, “I appreciate the gesture, but if I don’t get to sleep tonight: neither do you. Have you even packed yet?”

    He shook his head, “but I can pack tomorrow.”

    “Oh no,” laughing, I pushed him up to a sitting position, “we’re not going to be running around and forgetting things tomorrow. We’re packing now.”

    Farouz yawned, “I’m so tired though!”

    “You should have told me earlier.”

    He gave me a sleepy smile, “don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the surprise.” With those words he scooted closer, until his nose was inches away from mine.

    My face turned red, but I wasn’t going to let him get the best of me, “I loved the surprise,” I said, softly kissing his slightly chapped lips, “really, thank you. But now we can’t afford any distractions.” Then I stood up, watching his face drop.

    “You’re such a tease,” my husband pouted, letting himself fall onto the spot where I was sitting.

    “Oh get up!” I pulled his hand, “we have to pray Isha then start packing. No napping till we finish packing.”

    Farouz finally stood up, taking a tighter hold on my hand as we walked to the room, “you said that last sentence just so you could rhyme,” he laughed.

    “You bet I did.”

    Since we got home at midnight, we finished packing and cleaning the house at around three in the morning. My mom always had to leave her home spotless before she traveled and it’s now instilled in me as well. So we spent about an hour and a half wiping everything down, vacuuming, and making sure the house was spotless. When we were finally finished, the two of us forced our tired bodies to shower. Then Farouz and I crashed on the bed and regained consciousness at 10am. I was still in the cloud of slumber when I heard him shift next to me, “Dina,” he groaned, his voice rough from sleep, “we gotta wake up.” Then silence, and from is next words I concluded that he was checking the time during that silence. “Ya Allah Dina get up! It’s ten o’clock we’re supposed to be at the airport already!”

    I shot up with a start, my shoulder length hair attacking my eyes as I struggled to wake myself up, “you didn’t set an alarm?”

    “I did!” Farouz was already brushing his teeth, “we must have slept through it. Come on baby get up.”

    My feet froze inches above the ground and blood rushed to my face, “did you just call me baby?”

    He paused and smiled at me through the mirror, “I guess I did. Is it weird? I won’t say it if it’s weird.”

    I shook my head, “no it’s… I like it.” Embarrassed at my blushing, I hid my face in my hands. I’ve said it to him once before, in a moment when we were both vulnerable. But other than that, the word has never surfaced with us. In fact, we rarely used pet names for eachother. I didn’t mind it at all though.

Just Make Du'aaWhere stories live. Discover now