Elm Creek: A Readymade Family, Volume 1

10

TEN

October 1998

The early morning was almost numbingly chilly. Hâroon’s hands weren’t as nearly cold and numb as his heart while he watched the movers load the furniture he’d painstakingly chosen before his and Lila’s nikkâh into the truck. The day of the move had arrived, and he still didn’t feel ready for it.

But ready or not, the day of his departure from his childhood home had arrived and there was nothing he could do about it except accept the inevitable and try to be content with the uncertain future that now stretched before him. He brought up Lila’s sparkling eyes and dazzling smile to encourage him. She was happy, so he could be happy.

It’s just a place, he tried to convince himself. Places don’t matter. But even in his mind, the argument was weak. Elm Creek wasn’t just a place; it represented years of history, the legacy of his great grandfather who had founded the Muslim community around them. He was unlikely to find anything close to it anywhere else.

But it was too late to change his mind, to take back the choices he’d made. He’d signed a contract for a new job, signed a rental agreement for a house, and made all the arrangements. He could only hope he wouldn’t be as miserable as he felt in this moment.

Surrounding him and observing as the furniture was loaded into the truck were his father, brother, uncles, and male cousins, all present to say their final goodbyes. Most everyone wore polite smiles to hide their reservations about the choice Hâroon had made—everyone except Ya’qoob and Arqam, his mother’s eldest brother. While Ya’qoob looked as if he would gladly strangle Hâroon, which was very uncharacteristic of his playful younger brother, Arqam stared at him with penetrating eyes that made him feel as he could see right through Hâroon’s feigned smile to his misery.

“I always thought you were a smart kid,” Arqam rumbled in his deep, gravelly voice, which suited his broad, muscular physique.

That was not a compliment, Hâroon knew. The rest of what Arqam wanted to say remained unspoken but understood. But I was wrong.

Hâroon tried not to wince. Next to his parents, Arqam was the one whose good opinion mattered most to him. He’d been an irreplaceable figure of Hâroon’s upbringing. He’d helped Yahyâ and ’Alîyâ, who had both been rather young when he was born, raise him, he’d taught Hâroon the true meaning of strength and what it was to be a man, he had disciplined him, and he’d trained him. He was practically a second father to him and it hurt Arqam was disappointed in him.

“A woman who needs her man to change his very nature will never be satisfied,” Arqam said quietly. “You will regret this, boy. Count on it.”

Hâroon set his shoulders and forced a smile. “It’s not like that. You don’t know her, Uncle Arqam.”

“Don’t need to know her to recognize the type,” Arqam grumbled.

“That’s what I kept telling him,” Ya’qoob jumped in. “He wouldn’t listen.”

Hâroon tamped down the burst of temper he suddenly felt. He couldn’t fight with his brother in front of the whole family, especially when he was leaving. Both his uncle and brother cared about him, he knew, so he had to be understanding. They were wrong, but they were only expressing their concern out of love for him.

“You’re wrong,” he managed to say in an even tone. “I know what I’m doing. Stop worrying about me. It’s my job to make my wife happy and this is my decision.”

Before either of the two could say a word more, the movers closed up the truck, signifying it was time to be on the way. “It’s time to go,” he said.