Angel in the Courtyard [Book 2]

Chapter 3 - Khaleel

My cousin lightly pressed the henna cone and applied the brown paste onto my skin. She crisscrossed lines and connected them to make Celtic patterns to replace the fading designs already on my forearm. The sofa chair in my living room was comfortable but I was dreading the part that came after my monthly appointments with Sumaya. I wasn't going to be able to move for about three to four hours. I had to make sure the henna stained my skin properly or the whole thing would flop.

"So," she drawled. "Bringing a white girl to Uncle's wedding. That's mighty bold."

"Shut up," I groaned.

"I'm just saying," she went on, circling more designs. "Your little girlfriend is about to get one nasty culture shock. Just think about all the aunties."

"I don't care about the aunties," I retorted, leaning my head back. "And she's not my girlfriend."

Not yet, I wanted to add. The whole school knew how I felt about Arisa. Een the teachers at Jackheights realized I had a soft spot for her but that did not make her my girlfriend. It was a painful fact I was trying to forget. Rather than explain my one-sided affections to Sumaya, it was better to stay quiet.

"Again bold but reckless," Sumaya stared. "If the aunties don't get to her, their daughters will. I don't think you realize how many of them want to slither their way into the Abdul family."

I exhaled sharply. "The aunties are not going to be interested in my love life. I'm still in high school."

"Oh, they will be interested," Sumaya assured, a big smile creeping on her face. Her wavy hair was long and braided down her back and her bright brown eyes were peering at me through a pair of stylish neon lenses. "I can't wait to see them...see you...linking arms with a Ghori."

My eyes snapped open to glare at her. This was exactly why I postponed her meeting with Arisa. I didn't want Sumaya calling the girl I liked, 'Ghori' and shit. It was so fucking unnecessary. So what if Arisa was Caucasian? So what if she was born and raised in North America? So what if her attendance gave the aunties a stroke? Good riddance, I wanted to say. I didn't have time to worry about that sort of bullshit. My priorities were set on my soon-to-be family. A new mother and two new sisters.

The old man said all I had to do was show up at the wedding and be happy for him. He never said anything about sitting across a table from them. It was all so fucking cringe. The five of us were forced to have dinner at a high-end eatery after my old man's surprise visit. I had no issues with it, except that I would have rather faked my death. The bride-to-be seemed to be nice enough but she was trying way too hard to win me over. She was pretty or whatever but she didn't a hold a candle to my mom.

Rida's dark brown hair was curly, she had a toffee complexion and big brown eyes with full lashes. Her daughters had similar features. Maha was thirteen and Yumna was nine. At first, the younger one acted sweet and introverted but ten minutes into the dinner, she grew severely attached to me. Maybe it was because I surrendered my chicken wings to her. After Yumna inhaled her own share, she demanded more. It wasn't a bratty command or anything, just a bold statement she made. Rida gave her one fierce look and got her daughter to retract her statement. I saw that as an opportunity to extend an olive branch, so I offered my wings to the kid. I didn't know it would be the key to her fucking heart.

Then there was Maha. My old man said she was going to attend Jackheights in a couple of years. Whoopee. Did I have time to look after another person at school? Fuck no. Did it matter? Not one fucking bit. According to Yumna, her older sister enjoyed reading, writing, and arithmetic. In that order. Maha was a brainy kid who loved to study and aimed to exceed her mother's expectations. Despite growing up away from the homeland, it was clear that Rida ran a very tight ship with her daughters.

"How is it going?" Kumar's voice brought me back to reality. He set the tray of biscuits on the table in front of me. Then he examined Sumaya's good work. "Impressive, impressive!"

My cousin beamed. "Thank you!"

"Your tattoo shop might just succeed," he encouraged. "Tell me when you open it and I'll make an investment."

Sumaya's eyes lit up. "You're not just saying that?"

"Oh, I mean it!"

I rolled my eyes. "Big dreams for someone who should be studying for her MCAT."

"Who says I can't do both?" Sumaya scoffed.

"Uh—the eight years it takes to become an MD."

"I'll become a doctor in my thirties and open a tattoo shop in my forties," she replied, smugly. "Contrary to belief, I can have it all."