Clueless Love

The week has gone by so fast. I can’t believe how much has changed. Living in the same house as Ismail is easier than I thought. We hardly fight, but when we do Aazim is always there to break it up. He kept to his word and had my laptop fixed. I was surprised he did, but it made me understand Ismail is a man of his word. Something I find good about him, even though I dislike him. Today is the day of the presentation of the project I have been working on for the past week.

I have been pacing up and down the kitchen this morning making sure everything I need is ready, but I can’t seem to cool down because the way Ismail is looking at me is not helping. He has this boyish smirk on his face as if he can’t wait for me to mess this up so he can rub it in my face. I am so going to prove him wrong today.

“Will you stop looking at me like that!”

“How am I looking at you, Miss,” Ismail says, smirking more knowing he is getting to me.

“I don’t know! Just stop!”

“How do you know the way I am looking at you if you are not looking at me? So, who should stop looking at whom?”

“Whatever. Just close your eyes!” I say, throwing a magazine at his face.

“Hey! I have the freedom to use my eyes the way I want,” he says dodging the magazine.

“I am going to get ready. I can’t be around you right now,” I say, taking the stairs.

I walk into my room to get ready for the day. I am wearing woven high waisted brown peg pants with OBI tie, black tank top, black blazer, black and white wristlet purse, with a brown hajib and pump black heels. While applying my make-up I get a face-time request from Fatima. I answer while still applying my make-up.

“As-salamu Alaykum,” I greet.

“Wa alaykumu as-salam,” she replies.

“Babe are you ready for today’s presentation?” she asks straight away.

“I would have been if my boss was not Ismail.”

“Sorry and adjust your eyeliner.”

“Thank you and see you at work.”

“Ma’ as-Salama (goodbye),” she says hanging up.

The company where Fatima works is doing a collaboration on the same project I am working on. We are both working together on this project, but I get to do the presentation on it. I finish applying my make-up and walk downstairs to be on my way.

The project we are working on is a new game for children. I give a brief explanation of how we should program it and other necessary stuff to help run the app correctly. Everyone in the conference room gives an applause except for one person, and what he says next makes me feel humiliated.

“This is rubbish. I can’t believe you wasted ten minutes of my time to explain something even a child can program better. Your algorithm is inferior, and your coding system can easily be hacked. The interface is so boring that even a two-year-old child will not want to play this game. The whole thing is useless. Re-do everything and the next time you stand in front of me, I want you to make sure you have something better. You can leave,” he says with disgust.

“Yes, sir,” I say walking out of the conference room with my head down.

I am pacing up and down my office. “I can’t believe he humiliated me like that?” I say to Fatima as soon as she steps into my office. “Everyone liked it but him. And even though he did not like it, he did not have to insult me.”

“I know you are right because even if you had made some mistakes, it did not give him the right to put you to shame like that,” Fatima says, agreeing with me.

“I can’t believe I thought we were on good terms,” I say.

“Whether you guys are on good terms or not, you need to sit down before you blow your head.”

“If I am going to blow anyone’s head, it will be his.”

“I don’t think you want to lose your job, so sit and cool down.”

“A’oothu billaahi minash-Shaytaanir-rajeem, (I seek refuge in Allah from Satan the outcast)” I say, seeking help from Allah to help cool off my anger.

“That’s better. Now think of something to save the project that will blow his mind.”

“Thank you.” I say to Fatima for helping me cool down before I do something I will regret.

“That is why I am in your life,” she says smiling.

“And I am more than grateful,” I say standing up to give her a hug.

It is 1:00 p. m. I just finished observing Dhuhr (noon prayer) and I am meeting Fatima and Emma for lunch. On my way out of my office, I bump into a hard wall but when I smell a nice cologne, I realize it’s a human being.

“Sorry,” I say to the person, not caring to know who it is. But when I hear the person’s voice, I know it’s Ismail.

“It’s fine,” Ismail says.

“I take back my apology,” I hiss while walking past him.

“Hi,” Emma says walking towards me.

“Hey, let’s go,” I say quickly walking away from Ismail not wanting to be around him right now.

While eating, Emma asks the one question I have been praying she won’t ask.

“Umit, what happened between you and the boss earlier?” Emma asks.

“What are you talking about,” I reply, acting like I don’t know.

“I am talking about the way you ran away from him,” Emma says.© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“Oh, I bumped into someone and apologized. But when I realized it was him, I took back my apology, hissed, and walked away.”

“Umit, is that the only thing you did?” Fatima says looking at me as if I have two heads.

“Yes, and why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, wondering why she is making it sound like a big deal.

“Because I know you. I hope you didn’t do anything to jeopardize your job when you are already in trouble?” Fatima says.

“Of course not, that is why I walked away. Because I was not in the mood for him. I did not do anything,” I say raising my hands in a defensive gesture.

“Fatima, she did not do anything to him, I saw him before we left the office and he looked fine,” Emma says coming to my defense, “But can I ask what happened to bring this on?” Emma asks.

I explain to her what happened this morning.

“Oh, I understand why you reacted like that. And knowing you guys are close makes it understandable for you to react like that even though he is our boss.”

“Yeah, but we are not close, we just have history.”

“Okay, if you say so. Are we still meeting up for the movie tonight?” Emma asks.

“Yes, after dinner,” I say.

“What time?” Fatima asks.

“7 p. m. but we are meeting at the new Italian restaurant for dinner before going to the movies,” I reply.

“Alright,” Emma and Fatima both say.

On my way back to my office, I meet up with another of my not-so-favorite people in the world. Another one of Ismail’s friends, Austin. Austin has dirty blond hair, is 6-feet-tall, and has a lean build.

Most people will be wondering how I know so much about Ismail, even though we are not friends. There is an easy explanation for that. At my sister’s wedding, Ismail came with his two best friends, and that’s how I got to meet Austin and Udar. It’s funny when I think back and remember I knew Ismail before our coffee moments.

“Hey beautiful,” Austin says.

“Hi,” I reply trying my best to be nice.

“You have not changed since the last time I saw you. You are still beautiful,” Austin says grinning.

“Thank you and you haven’t changed either,” I say.

He is about to say something, but his phone starts ringing saving me from him.

“I will see you later,” he says before answering his call and walking away.

I am home from work. I pray Maghrib (evening) prayer before getting ready for the night. I am wearing a white shirt tucked into my check stripe print, cigarette trousers, a black thigh length kimono, a red bag, black vans, and a red hajib.

I step out of my room and bump into someone again. ‘Why do I keep bumping into people?’ I am about to apologize but stop when I realize it’s Ismail. I walk away, not in the mood to talk to him right now, but it seems like someone wants to make me angry.

“Are you still angry about what happened in the office?” he says, following me.

“I am not talking to you,” I say walking faster.

“Hey!” he says stepping in front of me, blocking my way. “You are really angry at me. You of all people should understand.”

“Understand what? That you humiliated me in front of my team?”

“Understand that if I didn’t treat you like that, people would start talking.”

“Start talking about what?”

“They will say I am soft with you because we live in the same house.”

“You are not serious! Nobody at work knows we live in the same house, so you have nothing to justify your behavior this morning,” I say sharply.

“How sure are you?”

“I know because I did not tell anyone. So goodbye, I have somewhere to be right now,” I say, walking past him.