Clueless Love

The next morning, I wake up real early to make breakfast for everyone but made sure to make Ismail’s just a little extra special. I made red velvet pancakes with ice cream and strawberries. I even put a hydrangea flower on the tray. I can’t wait for him to come downstairs. I am sure he is going to be confused as to why I made his breakfast so special. I plan to please Ismail so he will pick me for the trip. I hope it works.

“Hmm, what smells so good,” Ismail says walking into the kitchen.

“Good morning Ismail, how was your night?” I ask smiling.

“My night was fine, thank you for asking and whose breakfast is that,” Ismail says looking at me suspiciously.

“That’s good, and it’s yours.” I say putting the tray in front of him.

“Really, did you make it?”

“Yes, I did. I made it especially for you,” I say smiling at him.

“Umit, are you trying to kill me?”

“Ismail I would never try and kill you,” I say even though I know there were a few times I would have happily beat him, but not kill him.

“Hmm, alright if you say so. I might as well enjoy my breakfast then,” Ismail says, picking his fork to eat.

While in the office, I make sure to finish my morning work quickly and on time so I can spare some time to help Ismail with some of his work. I pray Dhuhr (afternoon prayer) and walk to his office to help him.

I arrive at his office and knock on the door. After a couple of seconds, he says to come in. I walk in and find him so engrossed in paperwork, that he did not even know it was me who walked in.

“As salamu alaykum,” I greet sitting down on one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“Wa Alaykum salam, Umit is that you?” he says still not looking up.

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“To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you in my office?” he asks finally looking up.

“I came to see if I could help you with some of your work.”

“Umit, are you sick or something?” Ismail asks confused.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I am asking because the Umit I know would never ask to help me with my work.”

“That is not true,” I say praying he doesn’t realize the reason I’m being super nice.

“Really? But anyway, I won’t ever reject an extra hand.”

“That’s more like it, so what can I help you with?”

“You could help me with these papers by sorting them out,” he says pointing to a stack of papers.

“Alright,” I say collecting them.

For the past few days, I have been doing everything I can think of to please Ismail so he will pick me. I have been making his favorite dishes, been super friendly to him, and I have been doing other things he has not asked me to do.

Two weeks have passed, and Ismail has not told me if he has picked me or not. I stopped treating him sweetly a week ago, giving up hope of him picking me.

I am making dinner when Aayan runs into the kitchen, shouting my name.

“Auntie Umit, Auntie Umit, Auntie Umit.”

“Yes, my love,” I say picking him up of the floor and placing him on the counter.

“Uncle Ismail said I should give you this,” he says, handing me a few documents.

I read it and read again and again, wanting to be sure of what I am seeing.

“Aayan, do you know what this means?” I say with a big smile.

“No auntie,” he says smiling with me.

“It means I am going to travel to my dream countries!” I squeal excitedly.

“That’s good auntie,” he says clapping his hands.

“I know, love,” I say, picking him up and spinning him around in happiness.

“Thank you for bringing this to me,” I say, putting him down while pecking him on the cheek.

“You are welcome Auntie, but I have told you to stop kissing me,” he grumbles wiping his cheeks trying to frown, but his cute face makes it hard for me to take him seriously.

“Sorry love,” I say trying my best not to laugh.

“It’s fine, and Ma’ as-Salama, auntie,” he says walking out of the kitchen.

“Ma’ as-Salama.”

After he is gone, I read the documents again. The papers are appointments for interviews at the embassy of the countries we are travelling to. I am so happy I am going, I don’t even know how to thank Ismail, but Alhamdulillah (Praise be to Allah) I pray the interviews go well and everything will be great. I walk out of the kitchen to thank Ismail.

I walk around the house until I find him in the backyard playing with Eman. They are building something. I call his name a few times before he hears me and walks towards me.

“Aayan gave me the documents. Thank you so much for picking me,” I say feeling so happy that tears form in my eyes.

“Oh, it was nothing and why are you crying?” he says confused.

“I am just so happy that I am going, that’s why,” I say wiping a few teardrops away.

“Wow, I did not know it meant that much to you.”

“It does because I have always dreamt of travelling to one of those places. That is why I am very grateful, even if it is work related. I am still very grateful you picked me,” I say smiling.

“I am happy I picked you if it makes you happy,” he replies, smiling back at me.

“Let me leave you to what you are doing. I will see you later,” I say and start walking back.

“Ma’ as-Salama,” he says walking back to play with Eman.

While going inside something he says does not just quite add up. ‘I am happy I picked you if it makes you happy.’ I have this feeling that there is more to that statement, but maybe I am just over thinking it, I will forget it for now.

I continue with preparing dinner. I decide to make a chocolate cake, which is one of Ismail’s favorite desserts. I made Mac and cheese with meatloaf for dinner. I made something different for myself because I didn’t feel like eating Mac and cheese. I am having a chicken salad.

Everyone has already finished eating, so I decided to eat my salad in the kitchen when Ismail walks in. People will be wondering how I know so much about Ismail’s favorite foods. The answer to that is simple, his brother. I asked Aazim to tell me everything about Ismail’s likes, his dislikes and how he likes his food prepared.

“Hey, I loved the chocolate cake. Thank you,” he says, sitting down opposite me.

“You are welcome, and I am happy you loved it.”

“You know, I know why you made one of my favorite desserts and have been super nice to me,” he says smirking.

“Really,” I say trying to act like I don’t know what he’s talking about.

“Yes, I do, and I must say you tried,” he says as if all the things I have been doing for him were of little account.

“I tried? I was practically your slave for three weeks,” I say while shaking my head.

“So, you don’t deny you were super nice to me for a reason.”

“I did not say that.”

“You didn’t have to, and I must say I loved it.”

“You loved what?”

“The special treatment and I am sad it’s over.”

“But I am more than happy it is,” I say smirking.

“Anyway, I thought you didn’t eat salad?”

“There is chicken in it, so I can eat it.”

“So you only eat salad when there is chicken in it or….?”

“Something like that, but what I mean is I only eat salad with beef or chicken. I can’t eat it just plain,” I say enjoying my food.

“Oh, I understand now.”

“How did you know?”

“I noticed every time we ate salad, you always ate something different,” he says.

“Oh, that’s true, because Waheeda makes it without beef or chicken.”

“Yes, she does, and how did you know I love chocolate cake?”

“Your brother?” I say smiling.

“I knew it!” he says, happy because he is right. I don’t say anything but shake my head.