If you stand in the middle of the desert at noon and stare straight ahead, all you can see is sand and sky, with a neat little line dividing them perfectly in half. Thats the way I used to see the world when I was 15; right and wrong placed on either side of a thin black line. As I matured, that line grew thicker and thicker, until it became two lines, with a river rushing between them. I think I fell in around the time I started college.
I feel like I need to explain my state of mind before I tell you this story. Ive always been quick with excuses.
My sister is perfect. Or so everybody tells me. Shes beautiful in that universal non-traditional sort of way, not too tall, not too short, always dependable, and in my opinion, a little bossy. I end up going out with her a lot because Im her brother, and even though Im younger, I need to fulfill my duty as male chaperone and all-over protector...
She wears hijab like a nametag, conspicuous in a matter-of-fact sort of way, meant to be noticed but never to show off. I always hang back a little when were walking together in public, just enough to make it look like were not together, but close enough to hear her speak, in case she asks something. Sometimes she notices and gives me a glare, saying, "Why are you walking so far away from me, you loser?" To which I usually roll my eyes and sigh, before speeding up to her side. Ill slow down again when shes not paying attention, something Im beginning to regret right about now.
Shes stopped in front of a store window, probably staring at some designer clothes shed never even dream of buying. I never could understand the appeal of window-shopping. I mean, why waste your time looking at something you dont intend to buy? Apparently, because its nice to look at.
But wait! Whats this? Shes not looking into the store window at all.
Oh no, its much worse.
Shes talking to some random middle-aged woman Im sure shes never met before. And from the way shes gesturing wildly, its obvious what shes talking about.
The woman looks about 50-ish, in an outfit that screams upper-middle class from her Coach handbag to her faux pearl earrings.
Maybe I should just hide til its over. But she glances up and notices me looking in their direction and my sister turns around to see whats distracted her newest mission.
Damn, there goes my chance at escape.
I give my sister a sheepish smile and she tilts her head as if to say, get over here! I step forward, nodding a hello to the older woman. She smiles through her lipstick stained teeth and extends a manicured hand in my direction.
"Oh! He cant shake your hand," my sister protests grabbing my arm, which, I might add, hasnt even moved from its place. The woman seems very intrigued by this and poses some more eager questions. My sister is quick to respond, completely ignoring me but never releasing the firm hold she has on my arm.
I wanna scream at her, if youre not gonna let me talk, let me go!
But I just stand there trying to decide what to do without being rude until the woman finally realizes she has a life and other things to do with it.
As soon as shes gone, I yank my arm away from my sister.
"Whats your problem?" I ask. "Whyd you grab my arm?" She rolls her eyes.
"Because I didnt want you to shake her hand...duh."
"Did it look like I was going to? I didnt even move my hand."
"Hey, I can never tell with you. Ive seen you do it before. Youre so afraid of hurting peoples feelings," she replies, mocking me.
"Whats so wrong with that? Its called being nice." I protest indignantly.
"At the expense of your religion? Nobodys gonna hate you for not shaking their hand you know. You have a right to your religion. Isnt that what being American is all about?"
I let out a drawn out sigh. Blah blah blah, here we go again. Shes still preaching but Ive stopped paying attention.
"Look," I interrupt, "I dont get why you just assume Im going to do something or say something thats wrong. I mean you didnt even let me say a word to that lady." Shes giving me this disbelieving look.
"You wanted to talk to that woman?"
"Well yeah, why not? Somebodys gotta show her that all Muslims arent as uptight as you are."
Damn, I can see a vein popping. Shes gonna have a freaking conniption.
"Just cause Im serious about religion and I actually care about whats gonna happen to me after I die, that makes me uptight?"
Now Im the one grabbing her arm.
"Maybe we shouldnt be yelling at each other in the middle of the sidewalk. People might think youre my oppressed wife." She snatches her arm back but calms down.
"Thats not funny yknow," she mutters under her breath as we look for a place to sit down. I spot a Starbucks, but she gives me another one of her glares before pulling me into a nearby diner. We sit down at a booth in the corner.
"You wanna get something to eat?" I suggest. She looks at me like Im stupid or something. "What!? What did I say?"
"We came in here to talk, not waste money on najis food. Now stop changing the subject."
Shes got that tone of voice my mom gets when shes reminding me to do namaz.
"What do you want me to say? That I dont see everything in black and white like you do? I know about the Day of Judgement too yknow. But I dont think praying all day is that important. We live in the real world and I have a life to live."
"And I dont?" She retorts. "Do you see me praying all day? I have a life. I got to school. Im in the real world."
If I knew how to scoff, I would.
"You wont take Physics lab because youre afraid of getting stuck with a male lab partner."
"At least I dont take classmates of the opposite sex out-to-lunch."
I hate it when she does that quote thing with her fingers. The way she does it always gives everything she says such a negative connotation.
"Its not like theyre my girlfriends or something. Geez. You know, when you start working, youre gonna have to eat lunch with your coworkers and stuff. And they wont all be of the same gender."
"Nobodys gonna force me to do that, and if they do, Ill quit."
"Youll never get anywhere."
"Ill get to heaven," she replies smugly.
"And I wont?"
She looks contrite now, like she realizes nobody can ever really tell for sure whos going where.
But, before she can reply, were interrupted by the high-pitched voice of the thirty-something waitress.
"Excuse me, are you going to order something?" Were both a little disoriented from our intense discussion, so were a little slow in responding. The waitress huffs impatiently. "Do you speak English? Are you going to order anything?"
My sister and I exchange looks before standing up to leave. As we pass the waitress, another couple comes by to sit at the booth. I tap the guy on the arm.
"You better not eat here, sir. The waitresses are rude and the service is terrible."
The waitress mouth is as wide as the door Im holding open for my sister as we leave the diner...laughing.
Last update : 10-02-2004 18:00
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