Was she seriously telling him to throw away a gift that she hadn't even opened to see what was in it? He stared at her, suffering from indecision.
"I'll take that," a masculine voice said from behind Rachael. She spun around to see Jimmy, her assistant smartly dressed in a dark blue suit and pink undershirt, and black pair of shining shoes. He took the gift from the security. "What a coincidence," he said to Rachael as they walked into the building, passing by many whispering employees.
"I'm sorry that I had to come, Jimmy," she said, changing the whole coincidence topic. "I know you feel like I don't trust you with the company for even a day, but that's not so. I—"
"Welcome back, Rachael," Jimmy welcomed her, placing his finger on her lips for her to say no more. "I already know why you're here. Trust me, you have my full support."
She smiled. She didn't know she had been staring at him the whole while until he shook his head towards the elevator that was waiting for them to enter. Jimmy walked in after her into the elevator, and pressed the button to the tenth floor.
Jimmy placed the gift on her desk as she sat behind her table. "My grandmother always tells me 'never refuse a call, rather refuse the content'. Similarly, don't refuse a wrapped gift because—"
Rachael sighed. "Jimmy, could you order me breakfast? Egg sandwich, and a cup of coffee." She opened her drawer and began searching among files, just to be occupied, and not to listen to Jimmy preach to her the whole day. She had gone to work to run away from the happenings in her life; not to attend a Wednesday morning sermon.
"Are you going to open that?" Jimmy pointed to the gift on the table. He didn't know why she was refusing a gift that was so appealing.
"You can, if you want. After all, it wasn't me who brought it up here," she responded. "Thanks to you it's not in the trashcan." Rachael smiled at him warmly before he could leave. She walked slowly to her window, and looked down at the street that was getting busy. She folded her arms, rested her head on the glass as she retrospected on yesterday.
Rachael was getting desperate. Sitting in her office all day long won't change a thing either. Vivian had ruined her wedding, she couldn't just sit and pretend it never happened. Rachael felt like she was obligated to find out for herself whatsoever secret that Charles was hiding from the world.
She hurried for her phone in her bag, dialed the number and waited for him to answer. "Can you please meet me at the coffee shop near my office?" She was more of demanding than asking.
****
"Jida(grandmother), jid(grandfather) told you to give me my chocolate after I've finished my bowl of creamy wheat, right?" Jeremy kept reminding her as she minced the meat. His big, dark eyes looked like that of a bunny whenever he was begging for something.
"I know." She smiled down at him. "I will give you chocolate as soon I'm done with the meat pie, OK?" She would have ran her finger through his red hair if she hadn't been mincing the meat.
"How long do I have to wait, jida?" He asked her, impatient. "You've been doing this since I started eating. I'm finished and you're still doing it. Can't you just get it already?"
"Muhammed should have taken you with him to the mosque with him," she murmured. "You intentional spent hours eating because you didn't want to go to the mosque, right?"
Jeremy smiled guiltily. His grandfather wanted him to be an Iman like him, but he didn't want to. Though he was seven, he was glad that his mother didn't give him a muslim name. He did love the religion because it was very unique, but there was just too many laws for a seven-year-old to live by. His grandparents didn't have problem with him because he was still a child, but they made him see the beauty of the religion, and how it made one live a good life.
"Jida, jid told me that an Iman is ordained by God. Until God comes and tells me in my dream like he did to the prophet Muhammad, I am not going to be an Iman." He sounded way, too, serious for his age.
He was small, and intelligent too.
"You see why jid wants you to be an Iman?" She looked down at him. "You always remember the teachings of the holy book, though you are small."
"I don't know how to read the holy qu'ran well," he reminded her.
The door bell rang as she was about to speak. She put the knife down, washed her hands, and adjusted her hijab on her face as she went to open the door. "As-salaam-Alaikum (peace be onto you)," she greeted when she opened the door, waiting for the woman whose back was turned to look at her.
"Peace be onto you, too, mama (mother)," Vivian said as she turned around. They stared at each other for a long time.
"Amira?" She called her daughter name with affection, hugging her. "Oh, Amira...I thought I've lost you, too?" She kissed her daughter on her cheeks. Tears of joy ran down her face. Seeing her daughter again after seven years was heart-touching.
Jeremy followed his granny to the door. He watched the moment of affection between his granny and his aunty before running to her. He hugged her legs.
Vivian was happy to see the boy after a very long time. He had grown over the years. Jeremy was a baby when she brought him to her parents because she couldn't take care of him at the time.
Vivian squat to face him. "Look at you." She held his cheek. "What have baba and mama (father and mother) been feeding you that is making you strong?" She asked him, grinning like he was.
"Enough food," Jeremy retorted. "What are you doing her, kalah (aunty) Amira?" He asked her, caressing her face playfully.
Vivian swallowed, she looked up at her mother who was waiting for a rejoinder, too.