I’m in my room, wondering what to do tomorrow. I could stay home. I don’t have school, seeing as it’s a religious holiday for me.
My phone buzzes with a notification from Jamie.
Jamie:after eid prayer tomorrow, do you have plans with your dad?
He asked me what I’d be doing for Eid a week ago, but I hadn’t thought of it. I told him I might be doing something with Baba even though we hadn’t talked about it.
Me:no he’s working
Jamie:do you wanna do something?
Me:don’t you have school? it’s not a holiday for you unless you told people
Jamie:nope not yet. But it’s Friday, so who cares. I’ll get you the notes and recordings
I chew on my tongue.
Me:yes. let’s do it.
I wake up for Eid with a newfound strangeness beginning in my heart. Not going to school today has washed away the anxieties. I open my closet, fiddling with the hangers before settling on a dressI haven’t worn in over a year. Mama would have liked to see me in it this Eid.
It’s a white dress with lace stitched into the pattern and a baby-pink light cardigan on top. The cardigan belonged to Amal, who gave it to me after she got bored with it. Even though it’s the end of March and spring is waking up, there are still some elements of winter to the wind. So I wear wool tights under my dress and pair the outfit with Mama’s beige peacoat and the hand-me-down boots I got from Amal. They’re a bit scuffed from the side but comfortable.
I almost don’t recognize myself in the mirror.
There’s a hint of Mama on my face that makes my throat close up.
Swallowing hard, I grab my phone and some cash, and then leave.
Eid prayer is a joyous occasion. Homemade sweets are passed around, chocolate-stuffed dates, crumbly pistachio-filled mooncakes, and fancy chocolate in golden wrappers. Children are usually given big baskets of sweets they shyly offer to people in the mosque.
I sit in a corner of the mosque, watching my community greet one another, congratulate each other on another Ramadan passing with blessings, and catch up on news.
It’s sort of peaceful, watching from where I’m sitting.
I spot Jamie after the prayer, standing outside the mosque, hands in his pockets.
He’s chosen all the colors of spring in a white sweater with a popped robin-blue collar, a blue tie that matches his wide blue corduroy pants, and a black funnel-neck coat. I’ve never seen him dressed this smartly. Even his hair is styled, like he woke up early to make the stray curls dangling by his eyes look so effortless. It’s almost entirely black now, and it feels like I’m seeing him for the first time. He raises a hand to run through his hair before stopping himself.
I bite back a smile. Definitely woke up early.
He looks around at the crowds emerging from the mosque, clearly looking for me, and it makes me feel giddy. When he spots me, his face shines like the sun.
“Hey,” he says when I’m nearby. His eyes sweep over me. “You look… you look…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, stumbling on unspoken words.
“Thank you,” I say, putting him out of his misery. “So do you.”
“I do indeed look.” He grins. “Come on.”
“Where?” I follow him.
“Breakfast,” he simply says.
We stop by a café that has florals all over the walls and rustic chairs. A friendly barista takes our order of bagels and coffee before giving me a punch card.
“You’re not paying today.” He swipes his phone over the cardless machine before I present my cash to the barista.
