“Ugh. Waking up early just to get my hair done sooner rather than later. I don’t even like doing my hair,” I groan, annoyed at having to wake up at 9 AM on a Friday.
It was Farah’s big day today. Her 20th birthday bash. And I promised I would go to the hairdressers and get my hair styled only so she would do hers to.
“Come ooon, Yas. I don’t like doing my hair either, but my mom insists I do it. She keeps reminding me that ‘it’s not every day your oldest child turns 20, ya know!’ She had to guilt trip me!” Farah complained. “And we made a pact that we always share everything. Good AND bad.”
Crap. She pulled the ‘pact’ card on me. I hate when she does that.
“Well consider that I go to the one stylist who doesn’t take up too much time or pull at my roots more than 5 times. And he’s in the Shooting Club hairdressers. It’s SUPER busy, especially on the weekends,” I say, trying to sway her. However, as usual, she’s as sturdy as a mountain. Utterly un-swayable.
“Wake up early, then. Besides, I want us both to look stunning,” Farah rebuttals. Then she delivers the killer move. She grabs both my hands and starts swaying both of our arms together. “Yasmiiine? Pretty pleeease? For meee?” and made the goofiest of grins. I had lost the battle before I ever knew it.
I sigh. “Alright!” I said, giving in to her charms. Darn you, Farah. If you weren’t my best friend I’d swear that you must be a female, persuasive version of Loki the Trickster.
“Great! See you Friday!” she exclaims with the tone of victory ringing with every letter she spoke.
So now I’m here. On the streets of Dokki. Making my way to the Shooting Club on foot. If it were for any other occasion than going to the hairdressers, I would probably take a relaxing stroll instead of half-asleep walking. The fact that I had went to bed at 3 AM because of late-night studying followed by a 2 hour break of watching anime didn’t help.
But, there’s always one thing I love about walking the streets of Cairo alone, which is listening to music. There’s something especially serendipitous about admiring the surroundings in Cairo while listening to good music. I just put my headphones on and crank the volume up to full blast without a care to give to anyone or anything. Except, of course, the cars rushing by when crossing a street. Something a lot of Cairo’s inhabitants have turned into a skill that requires mastering in order to survive the stampeding vehicles in the wilderness that is Egypt streets. I can never understand how they time when to start walking and then just keep going ever so smoothly. It’s either because of pure skill or sheer dumb luck. I myself lack massive quantities of both.
I finally arrive at the Shooting Club and make it all the way to the hairdressers. I walk in and go over to the cashier/receptionist desk.
“Good morning. Is Fawzi in today?” I ask the girl who had the morning shift that day.
“Yeah, hang on a sec,” the girl says, partially sleepy and in need of coffee. Girl, I feel the same way. She reaches to her left and rings a bell on the wall. Then a man comes out of a door at the far end of the hairdressers. “Tell Fawzi he’s got a regular here for him.”
I wait by the door. 5 minutes later, Fawzi comes over. “Well, good morning, sunshine!” he says with enthusiasm that isn’t compatible with my ‘not a morning person’ mood.
“Good morning, Fawzi. How are you?” I reply.
“Very well, and you?” he asks.
“Fine, thank you.” These small talks are tedious. And they sure as hell don’t mix well with lack of sleep.
“Good to hear. Ok, so you go get your hair washed while I get my tools ready at my chair.”
“Ok,” I concede. Let’s just get on with it. After getting my hair washed, I head to the usual spot, Fawzi’s chair. The whole process is painstaking and boring, but I have to admit that I do enjoy how manageable my hair is when I get it done. Only girls with curly hair will know the struggle I speak of.
Fawzi finally comes and stands behind the chair. “What’s today’s occasion? You’re usually here either to trim the ends or because there’s an event. Which is it today?” he asks.
"It’s an occasion. A birthday party of a close friend,” I answer.
“Nice. Does this mean you’re willing to try something new with your hair this time?” he asks with a teensy bit of hope in his voice.
“Not really. I’m more comfortable with the usual look,” I say.
Fawzi sighs. “Alright. Straightened with a side part it is,” he submits.
About 45 minutes later, Fawzi’s done and I pay the bill and leave. I look at my watch. 11 am. Seems like as good enough time as any to get an iced coffee. Yes, I drink iced coffee in the winter. It’s never that cold during the day at that time of the year here in Cairo. The weather was nice enough that day to indulge in a Coffee Iced Blended from The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. I think I’ll take some time to actually enjoy the outdoors for a bit, maybe even read while I have my coffee. After grabbing my drink, I head over to a swinging bench by the track, and have a seat on one side while putting my purse on the other and placing the coffee in between while I grabbed my book. I open the book where I left off and delve back into the wondrous world of reading. This was about the only time I enjoyed being inside my own head and under the spell of my imagination, because I experienced thoughts from a book and not my own. It was especially more enjoyable since I was reading the famous page turner, “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho.
Fifteen pages in (and half way through my coffee), a vaguely familiar male voice interrupts my journey as a young shepherd looking for his personal legend. “Yasmine? Is that you?” he asks.
Great. Just what I needed. A possibly awkward encounter with a possibly familiar face.
“Yes?” I say while I look up from the book. To my utter surprise, it wasn’t a possibly awkward encounter, but it was, in fact, of the impossible kind.
“Wha- Khaled?!” I said, with embarrassing high-pitched shock.
“Long time no see! How’ve you been?” he asks while smiling with joy and surprise.
“Yeah, ehem!” I clear my throat since my words just caught in my throat. Then I turn my gaze back at him. Oh no. Those eyes. That smile. I was right. Unfortunately for me, he looked very much more good-looking up close. Which meant total embarrassing awkwardness for me.
“I’ve, uh, been good, thanks! What about you?” I ask nervously.
“Good! Good! Wow, has it been, what, 4 years? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages,” he says.
“Yeah. Has it been 4 years? I had no idea hahaha.” Oh yes I did. “Are you a member of the club?” I ask him.
“Yeah, actually. You too, I’m guessing?” he asks.
“Yeah, my whole life, basically.” This conversation is starting a bit too slow for comfort. “I just came to get my hair done and thought I’d indulge in an iced coffee while reading a bit.”
“Really?” he says, his eyes lighting up with intrigue. “I love books! What’re you reading?” he asks.
“Oh. Its “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho,” I reply.
“Cool! I’ve heard a lot of good things about it. How is it so far?” he asks.
And that was when I noticed that we were still standing. In front of a three person bench, no less. “Oh my gosh! My manners completely left me! Please sit down, I’m sorry,” I tell him, feeling my face getting warm already. I grab my purse and place it next to me on the bench.
“Ha ha, no worries,” he jokes, then takes a seat next to me.
“OK. Well, the book is going pretty well. It’s pretty fascinating, actually. The terms and concepts used in the story are really new to me,” I explain. We talk and discuss other Coelho books. Then we start catching up on memories of the holiday in Alexandria.
“You didn’t really talk much, back then,” I say to him.
“Ha ha well it takes an introvert to notice, right?” he replies.
I grin. “Yup. Touche.”
“You look different, though. I almost didn’t recognize you,” Khaled remarks.
Uh oh. “Different? Is that good or bad?” I ask anxiously. Here it comes.
Khaled breaks eye-contact while smiling. “Heh, good different,” he replies.
OK? That is probably not what I’m hoping it is so I'd better stay calm. Which I fail at, since I immediately start to blush. As he turns to face me again, I hide my blushing face by looking at my watch and quickly taking a sip of iced coffee to cool down. Then it hit me.
CRAP. I lost track of time! Khaled noticed my panicked look at my watch.
“It looks like you have somewhere you need to be,” he says, with a bit of concern.
“Oh, um. I’m really sorry, but I have a birthday party to get to, and my friend is picking me up in an hour at my house so I need to go home to get ready,” I explain a little too nerve-wracked.
“Do you need a lift home?” he offers almost involuntarily.
“No no no!” I said, practically yelling at him. Calm down! He’s just being polite! No need to yell at the guy! Khaled was a bit taken aback. “I mean…I live pretty nearby so I walked here heh.” Could this be any more awkward? “I’ll just walk back home.”
“Well, in that case, let me walk you home,” he offers. My blushing was coming back. This needs to get less awkward.
“No really it’s fine! Besides, you probably have more important things to do than walk me home,” I’m trying to decline as politely as possible.
“I doubt that, but will you at least allow me to walk you to the gate you’re leaving from?” he asks. If he wasn’t so cute this would have gone so much better for me. “I mean, you can allow me that much more of your company, right?” And I’m blushing again. I try to hide it by looking at my feet while smiling as little as I can manage. Otherwise I would have a huge ear-to-ear grin on my face and that would be too weird.
“Ok, sure. Although I’m not sure why you like my company. I’m kinda boring, ha ha,” I joke sarcastically.
“I’ll be the judge of that, if you please,” he says with a smile. Why did you have to be so darn good-looking? So we start walking towards the gate by the social building. We continue catching up and talking about the holiday. When we were nearing the gate, I pull out my Ipod and headphones from my purse.
“I’m not boring you, am I?” he asks. YOU IDIOT! I hated my timing. He thinks you’re blowing him off!
“What? No! Of course not!” I scramble to rescue the situation. “I just listen to music during the walk home so I was just getting my ‘gear’ out, ha ha,” I continue explaining.
“Oh, ok. So what do you listen to?” he asks curiously.
“Well, other than heavy metal, country, and dubstep, practically everything. But I mostly love listening to my favorite band, All Time Low,” I ramble.
“Seriously?! All Time Low is my favorite band ever!” Khaled exclaims.
“Really?! That’s so cool! So, what’s your favorite song?” I asked, testing his fanhood.
“Well I think you know only a true fan couldn’t possibly pick one. They’re all so good,” he replies.
“Good answer! I was just testing your inner fanboy haha.”
“This is such a weird pleasant coincidence! Unexpectedly, I see you again after 4 years and in under an hour we’ve already discovered 2 things we have in common,” Khaled remarks.
“I know! Who would have thought that this could happen?” I sure as heck didn’t. I notice that we’re practically in front of the gate now. I was actually a bit disappointed since I wanted nothing more than to continue getting to know Khaled. “Well, I guess this is where we say goodbye,” I said, a bit sad.
“I had a really nice time talking to you, Yasmine,” he says. I could feel the warmth of shyness rushing into my face.
“Yeah, likewise,” I reply. We were still making eye-contact this time.
“But I want us to keep talking. So add me on Facebook and we’ll pick up where we left off, ok?” he asks.
I wanted to squeal like a teenager. “Yeah sure! I’ll add you when I get home from the party,” I reply.
Khaled then extends his hand. I grab it and we shake hands. “Bye, Yasmine,” he says with that amazing smile of his.
“Bye, Khaled,” I reply, cheeks blushing, and nervously smiling. Our hands let go and I leave through the gate. Woah. His hand. It’s so… I take time thinking of what to call it. It feels so comforting. Almost like…home.
Of course, during the journey home, I can’t help but think and relive every moment of my surprise encounter with Khaled. I remember the way he smiled. The look in his eyes. How his hand felt. Before I knew it, I’m home and I start getting ready for the party. I noticed that I never gave much thought into how I looked in the mirror when I was getting ready. I just felt good. Is it because of him?
Before I knew it, I had my whole outfit on and makeup done, and a couple of minutes later, Farah calls me.
“Yas, I’m in the car waiting. Come on down,” she says.
“OK, I’ll be right down,” I reply and we hang up. I say goodbye to my dad and Sherif and Shady, and head downstairs, walk over to Farah’s car and get in the backseat with her.
“Ready to party? FYI you had better say ‘Hell Yeah!’ and not one of your sarcastic jokes this time,” Farah says.
“I guess that means the answer is ‘Hell Yeah!’ for this one,” I reply and laugh.
“Typical Yasmine, always finding a sarcastic twist to everything,” Farah jokes.
So we head over to the venue and party until around 8 pm. That’s when the party virtually ends and everyone starts heading home because they mostly have finals to study for. Farah and I decide to take a detour to one of our favorite hangout spots, McDonalds. We like to get McFlurries and chat for hours. We had two to spare so we pretty much made them count.
“You’re strangely happy. And it’s not because of my birthday bash,” Farah notices.
“That noticeable, huh?” I say.
“Alright, time to spill. What’s going on that I don’t know about?” Farah asks.
“Well it’s not going on, but something happened, that’s for sure,” I say. “And I’ll need your analysis of this too.”
“I’m all ears,” Farah says, urging me to tell her everything. And so I tell her all about that morning and how my surprise encounter with Khaled went. Everything from what was said to what was seen.
“Woah. Please allow me to storybook this. It’s too good not to,” Farah pleads.
“Well, I might just let you since this was kind of like a fairy tale for me,” I said.
Farah makes the ‘YES’ first pump and then gets really excited.
“You can’t imagine how new it felt. I mean you know about my previous crushes, and that was all kids’ stuff. This was so…different,” I try to explain.
“How?” Farah asks.
“I think it was because it didn’t feel scripted or thought out. It just felt. There was just doing and feeling. Am I making any sense?” I asked her.
“Well… not really,” she replies and we both laugh. “But I think I know what you’re trying to say.”
“Really?” I ask.
“You mean to tell me that you didn’t take much thought into how you talked to Khaled. And you feel like he did the same. So it felt very…comfortable, which is new for you.” Farah is, once more, spot on.
“Yeah, exactly,” I say. “Well said, my friend.”
“Thank you. Thank you,” and she takes a bow while sitting in her chair. “I wonder what comes next for you and Khaled. I’m getting excited just thinking about it!” Farah exclaims.
“Ha ha well don’t get too excited. We only just talked,” I said. If I was really honest with Farah, I would tell her that I’m kinda excited too. But I don’t want to get my hopes up just yet.
The one thing that I hadn’t noticed at the time, was that a certain something hadn’t been heard that whole day.