Love from Mecca to Medina by S. K. Ali

Author:S. K. Ali
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Salaam Reads / Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
Published: 2022-10-18T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

I woke up to the sound of the Dhuhr adhan from the masjid reaching into our rooms. It was beautiful, and I lay listening for the entirety of it with my eyes closed before lifting my head to check on what the others were doing.

The room was dark, drapes drawn shut, and everyone else was sleeping.

Mila, the woman in her thirties, had the bed closest to the window. She’d told us her story of recently finding out that she’d come from a Slavic Muslim background and how she’d reverted to her ancestral faith. We’d all agreed she should get the best spot, being the eldest of all of us. She was now lying on her side snoring lightly, her short blond hair held back with a yellow fabric headband, her hands tucked under her pillow.

I was next to her, and then it was Fatima. She slept like my sister Sadia, shrouded in her bedcovers.

Sarina was in the bed closest to the door.

I couldn’t see her from where I was, but I imagined her in an old-fashioned white nightgown, her hair rippling artfully around her face, spread across her pillows, her hands evenly spaced apart and gripping her bedcovers while she lay on her back. Fairy-tale like.

Like an uppity princess waiting to be kissed.

I decided to go to Dhuhr prayers—as I’d heard the call and I was right next to the Kaaba.

But I’d do it by myself.

As noiselessly as I could, I slid myself out of my blankets, tucked the brown scarf I’d been using like a teddy bear under my pillow, and unzipped the carry-on at the foot of the bed to get out my khaki jilbab, fresh underclothes, and toiletry bag. I tiptoed to the bathroom with these items, wondering if a quick shower would wake anyone up.

I turned the shower head on and then opened the bathroom door quietly to peek out.

No one had stirred from their beds.

I knew that I had fifteen minutes to get to the masjid, as that was the duration between the adhan and the iqama, so I took a five-minute shower, dried off, and changed into my own jilbab and black scarf.

I opened the door to Sarina. She was wearing a raggedy T-shirt and track pants and holding a toiletry bag. Her brown hair was in a ponytail. “Going to Dhuhr? Wait for me—I’ll just be two minutes.”

“The prayer will start in five minutes so I have to leave. You know the elevators. They take forever.” I moved fast to place my stuff on top of my carry-on.

“Okay, then, forget brushing my teeth.” She laughed and grabbed her mauve all-in-one number and stuck it over her head, on top of her T-shirt and track pants. “Voila, I’m ready.”

I rose from kneeling by my carry-on and nodded.

I led the way to the elevators quietly.

Sarina was also quiet, her fingers moving the wooden tasbih beads she always wore on her wrist as she made dhikr. Then, as soon as we stepped into the elevator, she turned to me.

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