Edited:

Published: Wednesday, October 4th 2017 2:11 am

Collided- Chaper Nine

Inayah's POV

March 8th 2018

        "You know that's stalker-ish to stand like that, right?" Ismail raised an eyebrow at me from where he sat on his bed. I didn't say anything, but I couldn't deny it. For about a minute I stayed here in this position, not willing to do anything but ponder over what was going through my mind. I didn't want to believe what my gut was telling me.

        "There's no harm in me standing here and minding my business," I shrugged.

        "Oh yeah?" He used his hand to point towards his desk chair. "I think you want to say something. Come in here and say it."

        "But I don't want to say it," I protested. "I don't want to even believe it. It's too...weird."

         Ismail sighed, a clear sign that I was starting to frustrate him. I was starting to frustrate myself. If he was doing what I was doing now to me, I wouldn't have it. But then again I could never see myself in the position that I'm pretty sure he's trying to insert himself in. I love my brother more than any words could possibly express, but then other times like this, I can't help but dislike him.

       "I will sit at your desk even though I don't want to say it," I huffed, walking over until I situated myself and folded my arms. My chin jutted out almost snottily and my right leg folded over the left began shaking up and down. Even my fingers drummed together against my arm while my eyes squinted accusingly.

"Then it's a good thing that I already know what you want to say."

"Oh do you?"

"Yes," He laughed. "I do. I know you because like it or not we have shared senses. At times it's creepy, but at other times it helps to figure out what's going on with the other. And from experience and common sense, I know that you're both worried and upset."

"Upset?" I gasped, slapping my hand against my heart as if the idea was absurd.

"Yes upset. That angry vein on your forehead is about to pop. I'm surprised you can't feel it. It looks like it hurts."

"You've done a lot of things that would make me be hurt, Ismail Ayyub."

"Woah!" He frowned and sat up from his bed to talk to me. "My full name? That's the code for something being wrong. Talk to me."

"Forget it," I went to move around him and out the door, but my efforts failed when he stood in front of it refusing to let me pass. "I said forget it."

"You're mad that I'm going to uncle Khalil's?" He asked, and I didn't deny it. That was what made me upset, but it wasn't the main reason. "You're mad that he wants me to meet with someone?"

"You know where I stand on that, Ismail. We both know that marriage is the last thing any of us want for the two of us right now. There will be no marriage."

"Then what?" He exclaimed.

"There's no possibility that you like my friend, do you?"

"Of course not!"

"Are you sure?" I asked again. "Because I didn't specify which friend."

"You only have one friend, Nayah,"He replied.

"Whatever," I rolled my eyes. "Just don't. I don't like that."

"And why is that?" He finally moved away from the door and back to his bed after realizing I wouldn't try to escape again. "Am I not worthy?"

I shook my head. "That's not it."

"She isn't?" He asked in surprised. Silently, I sat back down on the chair and lowered my head like he did a few minutes ago. "What kind of friend thinks that about her closest friend?"

"One who doesn't think she is that close of a friend," I shrugged. "Remember Alia?"

"The girl from the game?" He asked, I nodded. "What about her?"

"There's something going on with Jamila, Alia, and Mu'ah, and it's something she's refusing to tell me. I tell her everything, yet she doesn't tell me anything."

"You don't tell her everything though," He pointed out and I glared back at him.

"Yes I do. And what I don't tell doesn't need to be spoken."

"Now you're being a hypocrite," He shrugged.

"I am not!" I protested with wide eyes. "Her demons can't possibly be as big as mine. And if she wanted to be my friend and just tell me, she would. I don't like being the fourth party in an inside joke."

"Well..." He whistled and pursed his lips, only making me even more upset. If I couldn't at least figure out what to do, I was expecting my twin brother to have the answers. He usually does. "Talk to her," He finally said, looking anywhere but at me to try and convince himself of this idea. "But don't jump to conclusions until you know all of the reasons, Nayah. You'll lose a friend."

"I guess."

"No, you don't guess," He stated. "Don't lose your friend over something juvenile."

"You're one to talk," I scoffed.

"It's all from experience," He sighed and nodded towards the door. "Now get out so I can mentally prepare to leave soon. There's is a reason why we don't visit this side of the family often."

"Very true," I laughed and made my way back towards the door, this time with no one stopping me. "Good luck, bro!"

"Yeah," he smiled. "You too."

***
Jamila's point of view

        Do you ever feel like everyone doesn't get you sometimes or that you just don't know anymore? You don't know why you feel the way you do, how you got there, but it's just your life now? Have you ever felt that way? I hope no one does. The feeling is absolute hell to experience or wish upon a person.

        It happens so quickly that you don't even know it happens until you feel numb. Your mind is blank and you have nowhere left to go. Always, deep inside, you'll have the feeling that you're not good enough and that no matter what you do it never works. You feel strained. It hurts, it really does, but you're the only one feeling the pain. No one sees you, they only see the fake smile you put on everyday. I don't want to live like this anymore. The more I pretend, the more it hurts knowing that I'm playing a character. I'm never me in these types of situations. But do I want to be? The constant feeling of wanting someone to know but not wanting to tell anyone is always there.

        But what am I telling them? What is the story I would tell to get them to believe me? To myself I sound crazy and broken, like I don't make sense. The thought of someone laughing at me or even belittling what I felt inside is another reason for me to stay quiet. Nothing would hurt more than having the person you trusted enough to confide in, not take you seriously. It would be a severe slap in the face.

        I sat, still in my salaah position, still on my prayer rug. The light in my room is dimly lit, taking over for the sun that had yet to shine. It was still early and fajr had just come in. As soon as it had, I immediately made a wudhu and began to pray. Most days I would have to rush because of school or work. I wouldn't have time to fully enjoy the movements and words as I would like. What better way is there to start the day? Life itself is hectic, so why not start it off good? I didn't want to move. I felt like staying in this position for the rest of my life if I could. But I couldn't.

Gathering up enough courage, I stood up from my salaah rug, folded it up, and went back to bed.

***

I almost fell over. The container in my hands continued to sway side to side no matter what I did. It wasn't light either. I know this because I watched as Tehreem piled scoop after scoop on top for me to take. She hadn't even noticed the container was overfilled until I said something. If she had her way, there would be no stopping her from adding even more food.

As much as I want to say what she did was unusual, it really wasn't. For a while both of our houses–Inayah's and mine–made food for the other and such. The gesture became our sort of tradition that felt comfortable, like it belonged. No one on either side was complaining either. Who would complain at the sight of delicious, free food in front of them? Hopefully I never have to meet such people.

Walking up the steps, I adjusted the container and my bag again for what seemed like the thousandth time. My arm already felt like a bruise was forming because of how much I packed for myself. If it wasn't for the fact that Inyah lived six blocks away, I probably wouldn't have walked.

Using my elbow, I pressed the doorbell and waited for someone, anybody to open the door and show me hope. My arm felt as if all of the blood abandoned that one spot to travel through the rest of my body. Translation? It hurt like hell. Seconds later the door flew open revealing Inayah. She grabbed the container I was holding on top and held the door open wide for me to get in. Yes, that's what I looked like. A very wide load.

"Can I adopt Tehreem as my sister?" Inayah asked in awe, her mouth basically watering at the sight of the first container: cookies.

"Don't worry, we can share her," I joked. I slid off the bag on my arm and my sweater before sitting on the couch. The warmness and softness of it had me in heaven. Every time I would come over I would sit in this exact chair with zero shame. Um Ismail probably regrets telling me to make myself at home. There is no limit to what I do sometimes.

"Have you tried one yet?" Inayah asked, her mouth practically full as she pushed the box towards me. I grabbed a cookie and thanked her. "Who am I kidding?! You live with the chef!"

"This is actually my first one," I admitted with a bite. I kept my voice down so as to not let on that I am lying. Of course I had more before! Chocolate chip is near impossible to reject and even avoid. "My first one in your house that is."

        "Doesn't surprise me," Inayah shrugged. She grabbed three more from out of the box and closed it. "Don't look at me like that," She chided without looking up at me. I guess she could sense me watching her take out half of the cookies. "You're no better."

        "Guilty," I shrugged.

"Nayah!" A voice yelled from upstairs, causing the both of us to stop mid bite. Inayah stopped chewing long enough to groan and roll her eyes.

"Is that Ismail?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course it is," She mumbled bitterly and sat down her cookie. "He's worse than a girl when packing. I mean, you don't need to pack your whole closet for a five day trip!"

         I laughed. They were so similar, Ismail and Inayah. She's talking about him as if she doesn't do the same thing, which is hilarious. It took a total of a week for us to clean up her room from the aftermath of last summer. Good times...

        "He's finally going, huh?" I questioned, knowing she would catch on. Ismail had claimed that he would go to his uncles house and meet the girl he suggested–plus his car, but put it off for weeks. It was the main thing Inayah would rant about non stop. Ismail's failure to use his brain, as she put it.

        She widened her eyes as she looked at me and raised her hands to her hair. The messy bun she had thrown together now looked like she was brutally attached.

        "Yeah, he's finally going! My parents are a little against it because they want him to get back in school and all that," She waved off with a smirk. "But eventually they were talked into realizing that nothing will be written in stone. It's just a simple 'hi, hello, how are you,' " she laughed, and so did I. None of that surprised me. Their parents are firm belivers in education and stability before a long life of regrets. They would like nothing more than for their kids to slow down and take a breather during the chaos of the world. They don't like rushing.

        "Inayah!" He yelled again.

        "I'm coming, calm down!" She yelled back, but it sounded harder than before. Her cheeks started to become red from just that in action. She turned to me. "I'll be back."

        "Take your time," I called after her as she stomped up the stairs. I would be very surprised if the neighbors or anyone outside couldn't hear them. The sound of her footsteps became lower and lower until I couldn't hear them anymore. I was left in the room alone, the only sound heard being the clock on the wall. Click, click, and that's it. So I did what any other person in my position would do. I pulled out my phone and went on the few four apps I always went to. There wasn't but two to three games on my phone, and even then I didn't use them.

They were there more for decoration than anything. I scrolled through a few of my study groups on Instagram and Facebook pages to see the different photos they added. Sadly it wasn't much aside from a few selfies and pictures of our college with sad faces. My face remained blank the entire time. Unless I caught sight of someone adding a meme or going on an adventure, it wasn't entertaining. Just the same faces I would eventually see come Monday morning.

Next I went to snapchat. Bad move. All that did is make my heart constrict with sadness at who I saw. Ayah spammed her snapchat with pictures of Hayat, herself, and Jafar at the park. They looked so happy, especially Hayat. A smile lit up my face as I realized she was wearing the dress I had gotten her the last time I saw her. If anyone has nieces, nephews, cousins, godsons, god daughters, or even children, you know. You can't deny them a toy or clothing that you know would look absolutely adorable on them.

"Jamila?" I looked up towards the stairs to see Inayah looking down at me. She gestured for me to follow her. "Come on."

"Are you done?" I asked as I started to climb up.

Inayah sighed and placed her hands on her hips. "No," She shook her head. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead. She began walking down the hallway and I followed her. "I practically had to force him to shower while I get some of his packing done. This..." she paused in front of his door and my eyes widened at the sight, "...is the aftermath of his skills."

"Are you sure that a tornado didn't stop by for a visit?" I asked, slowly walking inside behind her and taking a seat at the desk chair. The view didn't get any better. I didn't even realize a mess like this was humanly possible.

"It was actually worse," Inayah pursed her lips and my mouth parted in awe. My room is nowhere near perfectly clean and organized, but even I can find my floor. Right now, I have no idea if there is carpet or hardwood. "I cleaned up most of it. You see this?" She asked, holding up a black suitcase and I nodded. "Not one outfit is packed. I don't think I can handle children if they're like this."

        "You say that as if you're not the same, because you are," I pointed out and folded my arms. Inayah looked at me as if I had told the biggest lie on her and scoffed. Not even I can exaggerate in the ways how these siblings are alike.

        "Last year was a one time thing," She defended herself once she realized where I was going with this. "My room is always clean. I don't need to wake up to a rat eating a week old plate of food on my floor."

        She was right with that on that one. Her room is fairly clean when you look past her packing abilities. She would just throw everything into a suitcase if I hadn't made her fold. I guess we can both thank my mother and sisters for installing that ability into me in the first place.

        "Point taken," I gave in and sat back against the seat. Inayah sat down in the center of all of the chaos and began to sort everything from shirts to pants to shorts to socks to shoes. It's amazing how everything could fit on the floor. The room wasn't big, a normal size, but due to the clothes, it looked claustrophobic.

        As I went downstairs, I took out my phone and began going through everything again. Somehow I ended up on Alia's snapchat. Clicking on it, the sound of laughter and a basketball bouncing caused Inayah to pause what she was doing and look up at me. Her big eyes widened to twice their size, and she jumped up, grabbing my phone from my hand.

        "How do you have her snapchat?!" She exclaimed in surprise, holding down on the screen so that it would replay itself. "They don't give them out!"

        "You already know I know them," I stood up to reach for my phone but Inayah pulled it back. Her eyes went back and forth from me to the screen surprisingly fast.

        "Snapchat close?" She raised an accusing eyebrow, and I nodded. "God, Jamila. What else don't I know about you?"

        "There isn't much to know about me," I folded my arms again.

        "I beg to differ," Inayah scoffed and turned the phone say that I could see what was playing. I resignized the backyard and lawn chairs from the many times I was there. The sound of the basketball rim sounding to every shot made it clear. They were in Riverside.

        "Alia and I were really close growing up," I shrugged. "No big deal."

        "It is a big deal," She squeaked and began bouncing on the heels of her foot. It took everything in me not to sigh and roll my eyes at her dramatics. "You know he's my only love!"

        "Get a grip," I laughed and used this opportunity to reach over and grab my phone from her hand. Knowing well enough that she doesn't know my password, I pocketed it.

        "Wait!" She held up her hands as if remembering something and softened her eyes.  "Is this about the thing that you're of ready to tell me? It's very much about them isn't it?"

         "Mainly him," I admitted, and regretted it the second I let that slip from my mouth. I shared too much. Clearing my throat, I sat back in the chair and sighed, using my hand to cover half of my face. There was no coming back from this. "It's just my dark past," I explained.

        "If it had him, how can it be dark?" She asked in confusion. Inayah took a seat on the bed and folded her arms and legs over the other.

        "Believe me, it can," I frowned.

"Now I feel like crap," Inayah laughed bitterly. "I'm over here fangirling about someone who probably hurt you."

"It's in the past," I said, but the way I felt every time it was brought up begged to differ. It's like I'm fighting a battle with myself and thinking I'm winning, but really, I'm losing.

"I wanna hate him, but," She slowly shrugged her shoulders and sighing longingly. "Have you seen his face?"

"A little too much," I admitted. "Now how about that packing. Aren't you–"

"Are you almost done with–woah!" Came a voice interrupting the conversation we were having. Inayah and I turned our heads in the direction of the door to see Ismail standing there in nothing but basketball shorts and tank top on. I quickly looked away with wide eyes, my mouth falling agape at what is taking place.

"Perfect timing," Inayah mocked and threw one of his shirts towards him.

"I'll be sure to reserve my spot for the next party in my room," He fired back, and this time I laughed. Inayah turned her eyes to shoot narrowed daggers at me. "I can take it from here."

"Actually–" Inayah began to protest, but before any of us knew it, I was out of the seat and down the stairs to where I started. Ten minutes later Jamila walked down the stairs fully dressed with a grin. "You didn't have to get all modest on me and run away," She grinned even wider. "Ismail is like a kitten. He only purrs when provoked."

         "I'll take my chances with the couch," I pursed my lips, tapping it to prove my point. There was no way I was going to awkwardly sit on that chair and silently watch them do their sibling thing. Not at all.

"Don't get too comfortable, we're going out," Inayah announced and pocketed her keys.

I stood up, confusion evident on my face. "To where?" I asked. It wasn't late or early, but I hadn't planned on going anywhere besides here and back home.

After grabbing two bottles of water and passing one to me, she opened up the front door.

"It's a beautiful day," She commented after walking outside and standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Inayah opened her arms wide, her mouth a close lipped grin, and took in the day. I could give up the chance to record her, so I did.

"Go ahead," She sighed, finally opening her eyes to look at me in front of her. "Take all of the pictures that you want because today will be a good day. Just make sure to get my good side."

"I'm glad your mood changed back to happy," I said once we began walking down the street.

"I was pretty stressed and fangirling, wasnt I?" She admitted, and I couldn't help but nod. That was putting it nicely.

        "You could have been worse," I said, laughing when she turned to glare at me."

        "Really?" She deapanned.

        "Actually no," I laughed harder. "I don't think you could have."

"Inayah, Jamila!" We both turned around in time to see Ismail standing in front of the now opened porch. He signaled for us to come back towards him. "Ummi and Abu called. It's not safe to go out right now."

"W-why not?" Inayah asked in confusion. Her heart began beating faster at the idea of bad news like it always did. No one likes to hear that something bad happens, no matter how old.

"There had been an attack somewhere," He said slowly, looking between the two of us. My guess if that he is trying to analyze our reactions and how to deal with the situation. As much as I wanted to keep a straight face, tears began to well up in my eyes. "There were a lot of casualties."

"Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'oon," Inayah and I said at the same time, lowly.

Ismail stepped aside for us to come in. "They want us to stay put until they get here."

"I have to call my sister," I finally said after walking inside and sitting down. Ismail locked the door behind us, and I was glad. The best place for us is right here, safe in the house. I looked over to see Inayah constantly pacing back and forth in the kitchen. I could see the wheels turning in her head from here.

"Good idea," Ismail agreed with my suggestion. He smiled softly, trying to lighten the mood a little. Sadly, nothing would do the trick from me. When things like this happen, nothing but panic settles within me. "We're gonna be okay, InshaAllah," He assured us.

"Yeah," I began to find Tehreem's number. "I hope you're right."

***
Random question: What's your favorite Wattpad book?

I haven't updated in so long yet again. I have to really work on that...

Also, please keep me, my famil, my friends, and this Ummah in your du'aas. With everything going on in the world today, we need to keep those who are suffering and going through hardships in our minds. I wish I could do more to help every second of everyday, and InshAllah I can one day. But for now, du'aa is what we all should strive for. Have a very nice day/night!

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