by S. Nahar
We shared countless laughters together, but deep down I knew it was wrong. I was allowing myself to become vulnerable to him, an action I swore off the day that death kissed the lips of a loved one. I didn’t want to disobey Allah, yet here I was continuing to speak to Damon as if it was no big deal.
My family and I sat in a car, heading out to dinner. I had automatically agreed to come because I needed some time away from my phone screen and laptop. I needed to get away from Damon and his addicting personality. My parents had noticed my odd silence, occasionally calling my name to make sure I was still a functioning human. It was common knowledge that parents had a sixth sense when it came to their children, and mine were no exception to that rule. My mother and I, sat in the backseat, and her hand reached to grab mine, squeezing it tightly.
Even Tanwir could sense that something wasn’t right about me.
Instead of prying, my father did what he usually thought was the best option. He told us a story, one with Islamic significance. It was more like giving us an Islamic lesson.
“Do you guys know what Taqwa is?” he asked.
“Isn’t it like fear of Allah?” I questioned, hesitantly.
“Not entirely. There’s more to it. There’s not an exact word in English or any language that can describe Arabic words. Taqwa is a high state of heart, which keeps one conscious Allah’s presence and His words. It motivates one to do righteous deeds and stay away from the forbidden,” said Baba.
“What do you mean, Baba?”
“Let’s say that you are watching T.V. Then the athan (call for prayer) goes off, but you’re still watching the show. The show you are watching is bad. Your mind is not telling you that it’s wrong and you don’t feel guilty. That’s how you know that you don’t have Taqwa. But, in this same scenario let’s say that when you are watching this bad show, your mind goes off in alarms. Telling you that it’s wrong and keeping you aware of Allah’s presence. Then you feel guilty. That means you have Taqwa. Do you get it?” Baba asked Tanwir and me.
“Yeah,” we both said.
I looked at Tanwir. He looked like he didn’t care, but his fearful brown eyes showed otherwise. They were swirling with guilt as he seemed lost in his own thoughts.
Did I have Taqwa? I mean, when I do something bad and it’s against the teachings of Islam, I feel pretty guilty. I thought about it for a while.
When I talked to Damon, I did feel pretty guilty. I needed to stop talking to him. As the days went on, my feelings for him got stronger, and I didn’t see him as “just” a friend. It scared me.
I had no idea what possessed me to even start talking to a boy who was weary of my community, and my heart didn’t abide to logical reasoning. It had its own eyes, its own ambitious needs. It lurched for a man who was out of my reach, who couldn’t understand why I chose to believe in Allah.
There was no happy ending to this tale. We were too different and our personalities surely clashed against one another. Allah was my priority because without Allah I had nothing. Without Allah, I was alone. My spirituality meant more to me than a high school romance.
I knew that if I was patient, then Allah would reward me for it. There was a man out there for me, one who would marry and cherish me till the day I die. Damon would not be that man.
I shook my head. He doesn’t even like me and here I am thinking of what if I had a future with him. What is wrong with me?
As I stared at the blurry scenery while our car zoomed through the interstate highway, my thoughts continued to wander to a green-eyed boy. I never had this problem before. What was this test? How could I control my heart?
I’m going to stop talking to him starting tomorrow. Just today and that’s it, I promised myself. Deep down, I knew stopping it altogether would be much more complicated than it seemed.
Chapter 11
Temptation
Amira Sarker
I was watching an episode from the anime Fairy Tail. It was the weekend and this was my idea of chilling, until my phone beeped. I fished my phone out of my pocket, and saw I got a message from Damon. I hadn’t talked to him in three days, trying to stay true to my promise.
Damon: What did I do wrong? Why are u ignoring me?
To reply or not to reply, I wondered. The answer to not reply was ringing in my ears, but another voice in the back of my mind begged me to take the risk. The thing about risks was that sometimes they weren’t worth it. I cringed as I thought about what to do.
Come on, Amira. You’ve been strong the last few days. Stay strong, I reminded myself.
Giving myself motivation, I quickly put my phone down and continued watching Fairy Tail, but I kept on glancing at my phone throughout the episode. My fingers were itching to open all of the new messages, to resume our light-hearted conversations, and to dig deeper into who Damon Winters really was.
No. Stop it, Amira.
My brain kept nagging me and the temptation was so strong. It was an alluring force that beckoned me like a siren’s call. The phone was pulling me to it. My shoulders started to weigh a ton, and tension was coiling around my neck, forcefully pushing me toward sinful desires.
Oh Allah please give me strength to walk away.
“Amira! Come help me!” Mum called from the kitchen.
I jumped up. Thank you, Allah. This should keep me busy.
“What is it?” I asked while I entered the kitchen.
“I need you to cut the onions for me.”
I glared at the onions. Darn. Those things always make my eyes burn. I slumped my shoulders and sighed. It was better than fighting a lure to my phone.
“Alright,” I answered.
“Before you do those, call your brother to come downstairs,” she said while preparing the chicken.
I ran upstairs to his room and knocked, but got no answer. I knocked harder. “Open the door! Mum is calling you!”
I heard a low mutter as the door swung open, revealing less than pleased older brother. His disheveled black hair stuck out from all sides, deep purple bags lined under his eyes, and his lips were set in deep frown. “Knock lightly next time,” he growled.
“Well, maybe next time you should open the door and not be lazy,” I mumbled.
Tanwir turned his head toward me slowly with a murderous look on his face. “What did you just say?”
“Nothing,” I chirped quickly.
He gave me one last dangerous look before walking downstairs.
I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding in. Are brothers supposed to be this scary to sisters? I always read stories about how the older brother was always that overprotective, an awesome guy who wasn’t moody and loved his sister to pieces. He even showed it to her!
May Allah guide him. He may not have been the best all the time, but there were his good days. Some kids probably had it worse.
I entered the kitchen and was met with Mum and Tanwir arguing. I silently watched, frozen in my spot.
“Why should I bring the box inside? It won’t break!” he yelled.
Mum sighed. “Tanwir, it’s raining outside. What if the wind blows the box down?”
“You’re being paranoid,” Tanwir snorted.
“Please, Tanwir. I would feel much better if you just brought it inside.”
“No! It won’t fall,” he protested.
Mum huffed. “Fine, I’ll get it myself then.”
Tanwir was raging.
Was it wrong of me to just be standing like a statue? I finally decided to cut in. “Tanwir, just bring the box inside. Her hand is hurting for cleaning so much.”
He gave me a blank stare. Now, he was getting me angry. She had been cleaning all day, and her hand wasn’t supposed to be sore from all the work. Honestly, what planet did he live in? I managed to keep my anger intact.
“Come on. Just bring it in,” I persuaded.
He sighed, and brought the box in from across the street while muttering a few unpleasant words. One of our neighbors had gotten rid of day
care items since they were retiring, and they sold the items to my mother. After Tanwir brought the boxes in, he went back into his room, slamming the door so hard that I swore the walls cracked in fear.
“I can’t believe him sometimes. I truly hope Allah guides him,” Mum said, resuming her cutting.
I chose to stay silent. Tanwir wasn’t all bad. He just needed support, even if he acted like a jerk.
***
Damon: Stop ignoring me! I’m sorry if I said or did anything to hurt u.
My fingers were twitching by now. To walk away from temptation was not as easy as it sounded. I put my phone down quickly. I won’t do it. I won’t. I know this is wrong for me, so why am I craving for it?
I couldn’t help but want the forbidden, just to experience a little bit of what other girls experienced with their crushes.
Ya Allah, these thoughts I was having were very dangerous. I felt like I might actually do something haraam (forbidden) which had never tempted me before. Small things lead to bigger things.
I glanced at the phone. Time seemed to have been going slower. I started to feel anxious. I couldn’t sit still; again, the tension was killing me. Anxiety was spreading through my system like a virus. Finally, I picked up the phone and responded.
Me: Sorry I was busy.
I groaned. After two days of staying strong, I gave up because he was pleading for me. I wanted to slap myself.
Damon: Y did it take so long?!
Me: Sorry.
Damon: It’s fine. At least u responded.
Me: Yeah. What r u doing?
Damon: Being forced to dance.
Me: XD Do tell the story behind that.
Damon: My cousins came over and forced me to dance. I hate dancing. It’s just not my thing.
Me: Same here.
Damon: One day I’m going to force u to dance.
Me: U wish hun ;)
Damon: Did you just call me hun?
Uh oh. Probably shouldn’t have sent that.
Me: I say that to everyone.
Damon: Not to me.
Me: Well ur a jerk.
Damon: Then y did u call me ‘hun’ hmm???
Darn, he got me. How would I fix this mess now? Come on, Amira. Think.
Me: Because.
Damon: Because what?
Me: Because it slipped out.
Damon: Sure it did.
Me: Hey! Watch it buddy! I’ll hurt u physically.
Damon: Nah. Ur too nice for that.
Me: Nice?
The chat went silent again as Damon typed and deleted whatever he was trying to express, before typing again. The seconds felt like hours, anticipation building around the serenity of our conversation. It was light, soft as a feather, our bond strengthening. My faith screamed against it, yet I couldn’t stop myself.
It was such a feeble excuse, but it was the truth.
Damon: Yeah. I’ve told u before that u seemed different from the rest.
Me: U mean other Muslims? I thought we were going to leave our differences aside.
Damon: Can u blame me? We’re friends, Amira, and friends don’t run away from their flaws.
My defensive side rose. How could he call my testament to Allah a flaw? My religion was not a flaw. Islam had always been perfect, and it always will be. People were not, but that didn’t give Damon any right to criticize Islam the way he did. Allah knew us best. After all, He was our Creator, the Lord of the universe.
To me, my relationship with Allah meant everything. There was a different love when it came to religion. As my mother had always said, people always leave. No one could stay with us forever because one day, they would be called back to Allah. They would be in their graves, but Allah would be timeless. He alone could comfort all my worries away, and I knew that no matter what, I would always have Allah on my side.
Even if everyone was against me, Allah would never leave. Believing in Allah was a strength. It was faith.
Me: My religious beliefs are no flaws. They made me who I am, they shaped my character.
Damon: That came out wrong. I didn’t mean to offend u, it’s just hard to suppress that side of me.
Me: Why do u suppress it?
Damon: I may or may not have had a bit of an awakening. I value our friendship and all our witty conversations. I don’t want to make u feel uncomfortable in my presence.
Me: I think ur more uncomfortable in my presence. I assume it’s because of ur old school?
Damon: Seems like I’m really labeled for that, huh?
Me: Ever wonder how Muslims feel when u label them because of one incident?
Damon: Not really.
Me: Next time, think about it.
Damon: That school thing is a lot more complicated than just that, Amira.
Me: Talk about it to someone. Talking helps.
Damon: How would u know?
Me: It helped me.
Damon: Had it rough?
Me: Yeah.
Truth be told, I never really talked about it with anyone. My family kept our sadness concealed from the world around us. We helped each other through the tough times, but there were still days where my mother would spend entire nights mourning or my father would pray long hours just to ease the pain that still lingered in his heart. After all these years, we were still healing.
Damon: I got to go. Parents r fighting again.
Me: Sorry to hear that :(
Damon: See ya at school.
When we were done, I felt the small pricking of guilt. I sighed; I can’t believe I failed a test from Allah. I couldn’t resist the temptation. I couldn’t stand not talking to him and it had only been a few days. Talking to Damon was a bad habit that I couldn’t get rid of, and it seemed like there was nothing I could do to stop it. No matter how hard I tried.
Chapter 12
Temptation
Amira Sarker
My alarm started beeping. I groaned as I gazed at my clock. It was Fajr (dawn prayer). My eyes still felt drowsy, maybe five more minutes would be okay. My head fell back against my soft fluffy pillow.
I hugged the comforter closer to my body. As I felt sleep overwhelm me again, a voice in my head wouldn’t stop alerting me of prayer. I tried to ignore it and immediately felt the guilt creep up on me.
I jolted up. I was a Muslim. I was made to worship Allah. I mean, how was I better than a non-believer if I didn’t pray my daily prayers? I could go to sleep right after.
I dragged my feet to the bathroom, and made wudu (ablution), then brushed my teeth. I yawned as I pulled a prayer mat out and wrapped a scarf around my head, and started my prayer.
***
I decided to stay up because I couldn’t fall asleep. The house was quiet, only soft snores were heard while small birds chirped outside. They sang their morning melodies, awaking the world around them. I looked out my window, and saw the sun rising. Its orange color filled me with warmth.
“Beautiful. Isn’t it?” a voice said behind me.
I turned around and came face to face with Baba. His beard was getting some gray hair in it. It saddened me how he and I got older. Soon he would be gone, and away from me. Baba walked to stand next to me as he stared out through the clear glass.
“I always found it spectacular on how only Allah could make such perfect creations. We, humans, try to recreate them, but tell me. Are they ever equal to this beauty?” he asked, looking at me with a soft gaze. “Do we ever appreciate life when it is beautiful?”
“I suppose not.”
“Nothing is truly ugly in this world, Amira. Allah has made all his creations perfect. Always remember that,” he said, as he turned around, getting ready for work.
I looked back at the sun. He was right. Only Allah could create such perfect things, not even humans could recreate it. It reminded me of the words that she used to tell me long ago.
From my father’s light sniffles, I knew he was remembering his lost child again, his eldest, his once pride and joy. A void burned da
rkness through all of us, but we knew this was a time of tests. Allah gave those he loved the most difficult trials of faith, to test their limits, to see how far their faith in Him could go. Allah would never give his servants a task they couldn’t handle.
This trial of mine was something I could handle as well. I just had to keep trying.
***
Damon: I’m bored. Entertain me peasant.
My jaw fell. This boy was always full of surprises. First, he was cautious and almost fearful of me; then he insulted me, and now he was as carefree as every high school senior. There were too many sides of Damon.
Me: Excuse u? How dare u call me a peasant?
Damon: I dared myself. Now entertain me.
Me: Forget u.
Damon: What the hell is wrong with u?
Me: Nothing?
Damon: Never mind. Today my 13-year-old bro challenged me to a soccer match. Guess who won.
Me: Ur bro XD
Damon: Do u really think a 13-year-old could beat me? Come on sweetheart. Use that pretty little brain of urs.
My heart did a little flip. Darn the ways he makes me feel.
Me: -_- my brain is not little.
Damon: ;) suuure.
Me: How did things go with ur parents.
Damon: They made up as always. A toxic relationship in my opinion, but that’s what love does to people. They easily come back.
Me: It sounds like u don’t trust ur dad much :/
Damon: I have trust issues, I digress.
Me: I feel like there’s more to the story than u let on.
Damon: Nice deductive reasoning. Good use of that brain ;)
Me: Shut up. R u going to tell me the rest?
Damon: Honestly, there’s not much to the story. My dad has always gambled. It’s never been too much money, but it gets to my mom sometimes, and it gets to me.
Me: Understandable. You feel helpless, don’t you?