Can we try again?

Eighty-four

Samira

He was here in flesh. Right in front of me. I couldn't believe my eyes. On the outside, I was keeping my cool, acting calm and poised, but inside, I was freaking out. 

I don't know what was more shocking; the fact that Daniel was here in front of me or the fact that he was the same guy from the supermarket; I had already had an encounter with the guy without even knowing. 

How was that even possible? What were the odds? It was like a script from a movie.

But he was here. Daniel. The man that at some point in my life I'd cursed, hated, blamed, wished in anger, all sorts of bad things to happen to. The man who is the father of my gorgeous boy.
He was sat in front of me now, after all these years, in a coffee shop in the city of London. Who would have thought this would ever happen?

I was surprised I didn't recognise him instantly as I was expecting to. Sure, I knew it'd been years and so I wasn't expecting him to look exactly the same, but the glow up was just. . .exceptional. I don't know if it was the new haircut, his beards or maybe his muscular stature, but he looked different. In a good way. Grown up. Mature. He looked like a man. 

Other than the fact that Daniel was an eye-candy. He also seemed like a nice guy. He didn't come across to me as someone who wasn't interested in getting to know Jameel and I, otherwise, he wouldn't be sat here chatting with me.  At least, that's what I thought.

His questions about Jameel were genuine. I saw the interest in his eyes as he asked about him, and as I answered his questions. It made my heart warm towards him. He asked why I didn't bring him along and I truthfully explained that I needed to be sure of things l first. And he understood.
He asked if he could see pictures, and I pulled my phone out to show him a few.
I watched his face as he flicked through and he seemed pleased.

He also questioned my choice in the name, not in an accusatory tone, but more out of curiosity. I explained my Muslim background to him and he shook his head in understanding.

It was very easy to have a conversation with Daniel. He sounded like an intelligent man and he was funny as well. He was definitely not the asshole I was gearing myself up to meet.

He offered to buy me coffee, I politely declined, stating that I'd already had something to drink whilst I was waiting for him. Instead, I offered to pay for his drink, as a thank you for bailing me out that day in the supermarket. 

"But I already said it's fine." His lips twitched in a smile. "I mean, you don't have to repay me. I was only helping out that day"

"Yeah," I said. "I know. But buying you a cup of coffee is the least I can do to say thank you though."

He made a face and giggled. "Okay o. If you say so."

"Yes. I do say so"

I bought him a cup of cappuccino and a cookie whilst I treated myself again to another hot chocolate.

Our conversation was smooth and flowed well. I talked with him freely as though I'd known him my entire life. He made me laugh a lot too.

I studied his features carefully as he spoke. I listened to his deep baritone voice. He was very easy on the eyes, that was for sure. But other than that, I could see a lot of Jameel in him. The shape of his head, his chin, his round eyes. It was mind-blowing. And when his lips widened in a smile. . . It was like I was looking at an older version of my son.

Before now, I used to think Jameel was all me; he looked like me. Everyone that saw him said that too.

"Wow! He looks so much like you." "He's definitely a mama's boy." "He's a spitting image of his mother."
Obviously, that was because it was only me available. There was no dad around to make comparisons.