“What do you mean?” I’m watching Soon-Lee’s Instagram story of getting her hair done and how hard the hairdresser worked to match the color of Thomas’s tie perfectly.
“I mean, I felt guilty just now when you said he looks good.” She leans back on the bed beside me.
“Why? You know I have no interest in him in that way.”
“Maybe because now you don’t have a guy? And before, when you had Nuah, it felt okay?” She sighs. “You sure that guy Haytham is just helping you because he’s a nice young man?”
“Bechdel test, Tats. Bechdel test.”
“Stop nerding me.”
I sit up, looking at a message. “Sandra says she doesn’t feel well and might not come. She said she can’t drive.”
“She never told me.”
“What about Jeremy? Can he give her a ride when he comes? And Ms. Kolbinsky?’
“I’m on it.” Tats starts texting but then stops. “Oh wait, he can’t. He’s coming from Lafayette. He went there last night to see his brother.”
I think about who else is driving in from Eastspring. Amu. But he never replied to my e-mail from before.
As I’m pondering what to do, Muhammad texts.
Just got here. Linda’s getting all the guests I brought settled, thanks for the sign-in table. I’m going to get ready.
Ok, I reply. Btw, thanks Muhammad.
For what?
Duh? For everything?
Are you getting emotional on me? I can’t handle that. I like my sis cool and snappy.
I send him a long row of multicolored hearts, and he replies with a vomit emoji.
“Hey, let’s go upstairs. To get our clothes,” I tell Tats. Mom put our big suitcase in the alcove guest room due to it being a more spacious place for all three of us to change. Maybe Mom’s in there resting or something too.
When we get upstairs, Haytham’s scrolling on his phone, leaning on the doorjamb of the empty guest room. A guest room with no Mom. “Dawud’s almost done. I’m going to help him get ready, then okay if I shower, or you guys need the bathroom?”
“Sure, we’re just here to get our stuff,” I say. “What are you at now?”
“At?” He moves out of the way so we can get into the room.
“Votes? Still in the lead? Muslim Voice?”
“Yeah, but the girl, Noor, is catching up. She’s just a couple hundred behind me.” He plays her rendition of Adele’s “Hello,” a Muslim version that’s talking to Allah. “She’s really good.”
As Tats goes into the room to get the suitcase, I stand outside the room with Haytham. He doesn’t have his headphones, so he’s tilting his phone to his ear to listen to Noor’s song, a look of concentration on his face.
I decide to grant him a wish. For helping me with those flowers.
* * *
“Yo, aren’t you supposed to be busy?” Sausun’s on-screen, but it’s with a loose scarf thrown on her head, not her face covered in niqab.
“Niqab up. I want to introduce you to someone. And he’s a guy.”
Sausun sighs and leans right off-screen and comes back with a towel. She leans off-screen again and spends some time fiddling, and when she comes back, she’s wearing the towel on her head in a Mary-mother-of-Jesus style, with the ends hanging down over her shoulders and the scarf that was previously on her head across her face now. “This better be good,” she says.
I go to lean on the wall beside Haytham. Tats wheels the suitcase over to us so she can see what I’m showing Haytham.
“Haytham, this is Sausun. Sausun, this is Haytham. Sarah’s cousin from Arkansas.”
Haytham half lowers the phone that was at his ears before and nods at Sausun. His eyes are large, and there’s a tenseness to his face I’ve never seen before. “Assalamu alaikum.”
“Walaikum musalam.” Sausun nods back at him.
I shift the phone back to me. “So you know the Muslim Voice competition? Haytham’s doing it. And he’s currently in the lead. Tomorrow’s the last day for votes to come in. So…” I trail off and smile up at Haytham, who still has a stiffness to him that’s so uncharacteristic. Oh my God, is he starstruck? I look back at Sausun, who looks nothing like a “star” with the towel-niqab deal she has going on right now. “So I was wondering if you could, you know, do a short boost for him? On Instagram and Snapchat? And TikTok and YouTube? Everywhere?”
“Well, I’d have to listen to him sing first. Come to my own conclusions, you know?” She leans left this time and pulls her laptop onto her lap. “I haven’t been keeping up with the competition.”
“Check it out, please? We’d really appreciate it.” I turn the phone to Haytham so Sausun can see him again.
“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” He nods again. The tips of his ears are red.
“I didn’t promise anything,” Sausun responds dryly.
“I know. I just appreciate you considering it,” Haytham says solemnly.
She shrugs. “Assalamu alaikum. Janna, are you there?”
I turn the phone to me. “Yup.”
“Are we done now? I’m going to look at this Muslim Voice thing, and then I gotta get ready. For your brother’s wedding, remember?”
“Yeah, we’re done.” I think of something. “Hey, any chance you could give someone a ride here from Eastspring? A friend of mine and her grandmother? She was supposed to drive but isn’t feeling well.”
“Text me the info. Muslim?”
“No.”
“Okay, then prep them. About my niqab. Don’t want Grandma freaking out that a niqabi’s driving her.”
I nod, though I know Ms. Kolbinsky will be totally okay with it.
Right before I hang up, I turn the phone quickly to Haytham again as a joke. Just to make him squirm at the sight of Sausun once more. He looks at me, stricken.
“I can’t believe you just did that. You actually asked her.” He puts his fingers through his hair.
I laugh and follow Tats, who’s pulling the suitcase down the stairs to my room. “Hey, I just want you to win.”
* * *
Before I shower and change, I check Sausun’s accounts and see not a peep about anything related to the Muslim Voice. She’s probably still researching.
I’ll check in again later.
When I open the suitcase, there’s only Tats’s and my clothes.
Where are Mom’s? I try calling her but don’t get an answer.
I call Linda.
“Your mom went back to the hotel to change. She thought it would be less crowded. She hadn’t known that the boys were also using the bathrooms here,” Linda explains. “But she’s coming back earlier to get her makeup done. So meet in my bedroom around five, okay? Tats, too.”
I hang up and stare at my dress in the clear plastic dress bag.
In my head, I imagined Mom and me and Tats getting ready together, helping each other zip up our dresses and stuff.
I wanted Mom to zip me up. Like she had when we’d tried the dress on at home. When she’d lifted my hair and twisted it in a bun and stood next to me, looking in the mirror, declaring me “stunningly beautiful,” and even if I hadn’t believed her, I’d still felt a glow from how much she meant the words.