The Retold Story of the Teenaged Girl

     Momina was known throughout the school as the girl with no portable device, no social media, and had never made eye contact with a boy. The neighbourhood filled with mostly white people never understood the odd girl, and her peers at school were incredibly frustrated on how to deal with her. 

     Jordan was one such peer. He had known Momina from kindergarten, her and Jordan had been the only ones in their high school to come from their elementary school. They had been neighbours their entire lives, and used to use plastic bottles as makeshift water guns when they played out in the streets. Momina had not always been this way, she was loud and friendly and was always invited to everyone’s birthday parties. The change happened in the summer after fifth grade.

     One day, Jordan saw Momina’s older sister Amina watching them spray water at each other in his driveway. The next day, Momina did not come to play, Amina was not watching him play from her front lawn as she did even on days her little sister did not come out, and Momina’s mother Mrs. Mustaqeem was walking around with a cut lip and a black eye at the local grocery store. 

     Jordan saw Momina outside her house for the first time since that day at their first day of sixth grade. For the first time in both of their lives, they weren’t in the same class—and since that day, Mrs. Mustaqeem would pick them up from school. Before that, Momina and Jordan used to come out of the doors of their school to see Amina sitting on the big rock with her bag beside her as she worked on her homework. But the same way that Amina never watched him play outside anymore, she also never came to pick him up from school again. 

     Now in the eleventh grade, it was their first time being in the same class. They shared History, Math, and Chemistry, and Jordan missed this experience—of being able to search the classroom, make eye contact with Momina, and smile for no reason. It confused everyone, on how Momina never acknowledged anyone, but would smile and talk to Jordan during class.

     Everyone thought they were dating, but they would be wrong. Jordan had resigned himself to the fact that Momina and him could never be together after he asked her out for the sixth time back in fourth grade and Amina had to sit him down and explain that their religion did not allow Muslim girls to marry non-Muslim boys. That conversation never changed his feelings, but he never asked her out again. Not only because he knew there was no hope, but also because he found out why he never saw Amina since that day in summer break over five years ago. 

—————

     Momina had a level of self awareness that most did not know she possessed. She was aware that she was weird, that most fathers were not abusive, that most little ten year old girls were not blamed for the sins of their elder sisters, that her sister did not sin when she ran away from home to marry that white convert all those years ago, or that Jordon had been in love with her for as long as he had known what love was. 

     Talking to boys was such an effortless and insignificant thing to do for every girl she knew, and it should have been the same for her as well. Insignificant things became significant in her life when her sister left in the dead of night. 

     Momina remember the day as if it was yesterday—on a warm summer night, she fell asleep with her arms around her elder sister in the bed they shared with both of their legs tangled in the bed sheet they were using as a blanket. Momina woke up to an empty bed on a cold summer morning with her father yelling at her mother at the top of his lungs. 

     Amina had left a letter explaining everything on the bedside table in their room. 

Dear Mama,

You were wrong, I’m not stronger than you. You were strong for staying with baba all these years for our sake, and I don't blame you. In a foreign country with no university degree and no family to turn to, I would have done the same. I love you and Mina both, but I can’t be strong enough to make that same decision. I’m a legal adult now, baba was going to find me a husband soon. Probably a cruel one just like him, and I can’t live with that. 

Don’t worry, I haven’t done anything wrong that will make you ashamed of me. My friend’s older brother has a white friend that converted to Islam a couple months ago, and he offered to marry me. I left with him, don’t worry we’re going straight to the mosque to get married. I wish you could be there too, but unfortunately this is the way things have to be. 

Please explain to Momina, that no matter what baba says, I haven’t done anything wrong and soon she will have to make the same decision.

With all the love in the world that I can muster,

Amina

P. S. You should get a divorce.

Ever since that day, Momina’s father never trusted her. She was not allowed to have anymore friends, boys or girls. Momina had made the mistake of asking her father if she could play outside with Jordan a week after her sister left. Her father backhanded her so hard she was thrown against the wall. Since that day, she had resolved herself so stay away from all boys, especially Jordan.

As the years went by, Momina learned to steel herself against so much of what she wanted. Her father stopped allowing her to have friends, her mother had to be the one to drop her off at school and pick her up everyday, she did not have access to the internet at home, and since the day her sister left Momina had never answered the telephone.

When a girl asked if she wanted to meet with her over the weekend, Momina said no but she wanted to say yes. When a boy asked her out, Momina said no but she wanted to run away and marry him. When Jacob’s eyes tried to find hers during their school wide assemblies, Momina ignored his eyes but wanted to hug him tight enough to break all his ribs. When someone acknowledged her existed, Momina went deeper into her shell out of fear of what her father would do but all she really wanted was to scream and shout at the top of her lungs for the whole world to hear.

Amina ran away from home, their father made Momina pay the price. Momina was haunted by Amina’s flight. But a way to end this haunting was right in front of her. Jordan was right in front of her.

It was her eighteenth birthday, and as soon as her last period was over Jordan had grabbed onto the handle of her backpack and dragged her to a secluded pod on the third floor. He took her backpack and gave her a duffel bag instead.

“Mama is waiting for us.”

“No she’s not,” He answered. “She knows I’m going to be late, and she also knows that your not coming home today.”

“What?”

Jordan looked at her with a pained expression, “I can’t save you, your religion won’t allow me to save you the way I want to. Your mom has some ID and legal docs in there.”

Instantly, Momina knew where this was going. She knew why he gave her the duffel bag, she knew why her mother knew she wouldn’t be going home today, and she knew that what she was about to do would kill Jordan on the inside.

“So, who do have line up for me to marry?”

Even as Jordon grinned, his eyes shone with tears. “I tried finding your sister, but the word is she moved across the country. So! I got you a guy from the Catholic high school three blocks over, he’s a born Muslim.”

“You’re okey with this?” She asked.

Jordan let out a harsh sigh. “I arranged it. Now! Let take you to your future husband and salvation shall we? Make sure to name your firstborn son after me!”

Momina knew he was joking, but that was all she could afford to give Jordan. “And my second son’s middle name will also be Jordan.”

“Awesome.”

They looked into each other’s eyes, and smiled.