Misfit in Love (Saints and Misfits #2) - S. K. Ali Page 0,82

doesn’t wear niqab, and I can see from all the way down here that she looks impatient. She keeps turning her head and looking around and moving away then coming back.

After I watch Sausun and Haytham for a bit, in between directing my just-arrived friends to their seats, I decide to go over there to check if all’s okay, leaving the table in Tats’s capable hands. There’s something weird about how Haytham is unmoving, while Sausun’s sister keeps moving, and Sausun’s talking nonstop.

I introduced them, so I feel a bit of responsibility for whatever’s going on up there.

* * *

“It just doesn’t feel authentic to who I am. No one would even believe me,” Sausun’s saying as I get closer. “Country music? So totally not my thing.”

Haytham’s everyday, confident stature is gone. It’s like his muscles all deflated, and he’s standing there shriveled. “But it’s Muslim country,” he protests weakly.

“If we’re talking Muslim music, I’m more of a Khalil Ismail fan. Perfect Tupac vibes, you know?” Sausun sees me. “Janna knows. Tell this guy it doesn’t make sense for me to tell people to vote for his singing. My followers would see right through me. They’d think it was a plug.”

I never considered that. It’s true that Sausun has pretty uncompromising taste, but I really thought she’d just help.

“But can’t you make it an unpersonal thing? Can’t you just say if you had to choose for the Muslim Voice competition, you’d say Haytham?” I appeal.

“But that’s the thing. I wouldn’t choose Haytham. I’d choose Abdul Kareem.”

“Who?”

“Abdul Kareem. The man who sings those traditional nasheeds.”

“The old man?”

“Yup, the old man. From Sudan.” Sausun turns to Haytham. “He’s amazing. Study him.”

Haytham swallows.

“The thing I like about him is his entries are all without musical instruments, just pure vocal melody,” Sausun says, nodding at me. “Thanks for getting me to check the Muslim Voice out. I’m actually going to do a video tonight asking everyone to vote for Abdul Kareem.”

Oh man, I just made everything worse by asking Sausun to get involved. I’m afraid to look at Haytham.

“Okay,” he squeaks.

I risk a glance and see he’s still standing there in the exact same I’ve-been-run-over-by-a-truck pose, and I realize he’ll be like that all day unless somebody scrapes him off the road.

“Let’s go? To the wedding?” I suggest brightly.

Sausun nods and begins walking, her black abaya rising a bit with her steps to reveal a pair of sparkly turquoise Doc Martens.

She’s an iron-willed queen.

I follow behind with Haytham, who’s walking slowly.

“I’m so sorry. Really. I thought she’d just do it,” I tell him quietly.

“No.” His voice is low and sad, but then he clears his throat and continues slightly more upbeat—as though he’s mustering energy. “She’s right. She has to stick to her principles.”

His voice is still tainted with the squeak from before.

I nod, and as we make our way to the wedding site, I glance at his face to gauge the level of hurt. The level of burn.

But, weirdly, he’s actually looking at Sausun walking ahead, with starstruck eyes again.

Truly, I don’t think I’ll ever, ever understand guys.

* * *

Thanks for sending that Q & A

A text from Layth, as I’m sitting at the sign-in table in a respite after a horde of guests.

That Imam has got some cool stuff

He read more of Amu’s answers? And likes them? I feel a surge of pride. That Imam’s my uncle. My mother’s brother.

Cool uncle

Yours is here but I’m avoiding him

Hey he’s not a bad guy. He’s just on another wavelength.

Still avoiding him. I have my own reasons that Layth doesn’t need to know.

I’ll get to know Uncle Bilal after the wedding.

You know he actually paid for everything. My brother’s funeral, our bills, helped my mom get to England. Even my counseling. And he’s not loaded.

Then why don’t you like him if he’s so kind? I hope my skepticism doesn’t show.

He did this thing a year ago that got me mad. When he found out I wasn’t going back to school, he set me up with a job I hadn’t asked for. So he was off my list for a long time.

Because he doesn’t believe I’m ok being me. He thinks I’m going to Ecuador to get away from everything but I’m actually going towards everything I believe in.

I read that over and over again, feeling like I want to know more but can’t ask everything I want to know—about him, about his mind, what he believes in—because then he’d wonder why I’m so interested, and