One More Night

As salaam alaikum,

So, it's finals week. I don't have very much to say, other than I'll be glad when it's over and I'm back at home with my folks. Other than that, life is going, and I want to feel like it's going in the right direction. Insha'Allah...

I'll give you a late late excerpt from RMD, and edit out the parts that will give stuff away. I really wish my mother would start reading it so I could give it to other people...I'll give a copy to B after he's done entering grades.

So here we go. This is from the second to last chapter:

      “You’re here for your jacket, aren’t you?” Mo’s standing at the door to Nisreen’s apartment, and she hasn’t let him in yet. She must have expected him. Who else would come ringing her doorbell at one am, he figured. Mo had forgotten all about his missing jacket. He did just walk over here, and the night wasn’t quite as warm as the day had been, but he stuffed his hands into his pockets and it was okay. She’s peaking at him from her partially opened door. She’s gone back to locking it with the chain, so she can’t open it all the way.

      “I can come in, can’t I, Nisreen?” She sighs. She closes the door in his face, and he hears her as she undoes the chain. The door opens, and he can’t see her. She must be standing behind the door. It’s been a couple of weeks or something, but he expects to experience the familiar sights and smells of Nisreen’s place. But he doesn’t. As she closes the door behind him, he sees that the sofa, television and television stand are gone. The kitchen is empty and sterile-looking. The chairs are stacked on her dining room table, and there are boxes in the middle of the floor. He’d forgotten that she’s graduating next weekend, and she’s moving out of her apartment for the summer.

“The person who moved out of here before me let me keep the dining room table. If you want it, you can have it.” She walks into her bedroom and closes the door. Her posters are gone. Her Mickey Mouse lamp and the coffee table are gone. Instead, the overhead fluorescent lamp is on, making the room look stark and naked. This is no longer Nisreen’s apartment. She emerges from her bedroom after having turned down whatever music she had playing, something sentimental as always, and comes back with his spring jacket. She extends her arm to hand it to him, standing feet away from him. Mo understands. She wants him to take it and leave. He grabs the jacket, and puts it on. He won’t stay long, he convinces himself.