Just Make Du'aa

• f i f t e e n •

Dina

    “Dina,” a hand rubbed circles against my lower back, “baby wake up, the water looks so nice I want to go for a swim.” Turning over, I tried saying something but my mouth failed me and all that came out was a combination of a yawn and a groan. Farouz chuckled and swung his leg on top of mine, “Diiinaa” he sung into my ear, his growing beard tickling my cheek, “the sun is up so you should be too.”

    With a groan, I turned onto my back and forced my eyes open, “what time is it?”

    “Seven in the morning,” he replied with a smile, clearly Farouz was already wide awake. Placing a lingering kiss on my temple he said, “smell the air! I opened a window and it smells so fresh! Hurry and get up! The water is best in the morning.”

    Pushing my hair out of my face and sitting up, I said, “Farouz, seven in the morning?”

    “You’ll thank me later,” he said, pulling at my hand, “come on! Get up and pray, then we can go.”

    “What about breakfast?” I asked, shuffling my way around my husband, who was practically bouncing.

    Farouz shook his head, “no, swimming first thing in the morning. Then we come back and shower, then go for breakfast. Trust me it feels great.”

    Giving in, I sighed, “alright, let me get ready.”

    I turned to look out the window and for the first time since I woke up, take in the feeling around me. The open window let in a fresh breeze and the air smelled like salt and sun kissed sand. All I wanted to do was stand at the window and take in the feeling. But I could hear Farouz zipping around the house gathering things for the early swim, so, taking in one last breath, I turned and started to get dressed.

    By the time I had finished praying and put on my islamic swimwear, Farouz was standing by the door, tapping his bare feet against the aged wood. “Khalas?” he said, in a hesitant tone. In the past few months I invested some time in teaching him arabic, and here he was, standing at the door and asking me if I was done in my native language. The way it sounded rolling off his tongue made me want to abandon the beach and take him back to the room.

    Ignoring the heat crawling up my cheeks, I nodded and raced him out of the house. Farouz quickly caught up to me and in a swift motion, swept me off my feet and into his arms, “what are you doing?” I couldn’t help but yell as I gripped onto his T-shirt for dear life.

    Farouz didn’t reply, only laughed. His eyes focused on the nearing shoreline and his feet picking up pace. In what felt like seconds, I heard the water splash under his feet, then he stopped when the water was waist deep, took in a breath, and tossed me in. All I could manage was a gasp before the water pulled me in, and for a few seconds, my feet scratched at the ground but I couldn’t find the balance to stand. I couldn’t breathe, and panic clawed at my chest until his hands found my waist and he pulled me into a standing position. His amused chuckle died quickly, “Dina? Crap, okay breathe.” He ran his hands down my arms gently until my heartbeat slowed down and the panic subsided, “I am so sorry,” Farouz said with full regret, “I thought you’d just get up, oh my God I’m so sorry!”

    “It’s no problem,” I shuddered, holding onto him, “I just kinda can’t swim in the ocean.”

    Farouz pushed me back so he could get a better look at me. “You can’t swim? Why didn’t you say anything?”

    Shrugging, I said, “because I can swim! In like pools, but not in open water, I don’t know why, I just can’t.” He let out a frustrated groan and ran his hands down his face, features full of guilt. “But it’s okay!” I said, tugging on the bottom half of his shirt, the wet half, “I’m okay now. I still wanna have fun okay? Let’s have fun.”