Emeralds

Eleven.

Eleven

[Leen]

I'm sitting on my desk at home, literally drowning in papers and books that teach Korean language for beginners. I've been studying for two days now and I can perfectly write and spell the alphabets, slowly read words, and understand only too little of them. But I love it anyway.

I look at the clock on the wall and it's 9:00 p.m., which means I've been studying for three hours now. I decide that's enough for today and I get up, head to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee, as I still have some work to do before I sleep.

I check my texts as I'm waiting for the coffee on the cooker. I reply to Salam and feel a rush of relief that she's fine as she hasn't texted in two days. She talks about a book she's been reading for a while and then we talk about completely irrelevant stuff.

There's also a message from Mariam saying we should hang out again sometime soon. I reply that we must. That day we went out together was unforgettable. I got to know her better and she's just an awesome person.

I pour the coffee in a cup and go back to my room and prepare for tomorrow lesson with grade four. It's a writing lesson-my favorite. I make small rectangular cards and write simple sentences on them like: It was too cold this morning. And tomorrow's target will be to turn these boring sentences into descriptive, interesting ones. I think it's a cool game and a fun way to learn and love to write and I hope children would find it the same.

I've told mom that Madam Nadia wants to meet her, and she agreed to invite her for a cup of tea tomorrow, and I'm the least excited person on Earth.

I keep wondering if I'll end up being Kareem's wife, and that he'll imprison me at home because a woman shouldn't work. I look at the cards in my hands, the Korean papers surrounding me, and all the books on my shelf and feel a twinge of pain that I could let all this go. I want to keep working, I want to teach the kids and play with them, and there's still so much I want to learn. I can't let go of everything so soon.

I keep doing schoolwork until it's 11:00 p.m. and go to the living room and turn the TV on. It's Coffee Prince time. I keep texting Salam as I'm watching; like I'm afraid of letting her go and I won't be able to talk to her for two days again. Or maybe more than that this time.

I go to school the next morning after I eat my breakfast (I've obviously learned my lesson). I meet Mariam at the gate and she greets me with a hug. "How are you?" she asks.

"Alhamdulillah, good," I reply with a smile. "What about you?"

"Alhamdulillah!" she says. "Just too busy preparing for tomorrow."

"Why? What do you have tomorrow?" I ask.

"Adam is finally coming back!" she says. "Mom is preparing quite a lot of food and we're the ones drowning in work." I laugh.

"Excuse her, she's a mother."

"Yeah, she goes through a lot when he's away, Alhamdulillah he's finally coming home."

"Alhamdulillah."

"So what are you up to today?" she asks.

"There's a teacher who works with me, she's coming over for tea today," I say, huffing. "She's coming to ask for my hand for her son."

She gasps, "Really?"

"Yeah," I sigh.

"And do you want him?"

"I don't think we'll get along well. He's not my type."

She seems a little relieved and it sends questions directly to my head. "Pray Istikhara," she smiles.