Clueless Love

The next morning I wake up and I do my morning routine of prayers and exercise. I am wearing a white crop sweater, grey and white plaid pants, white converse sneakers, a black hajib, and carry a black satchel bag. I am eating cinnamon French toast sticks with coffee for breakfast in the kitchen when Ismail walks in, looking handsome and as arrogant as ever. ‘I wonder what he is doing here?’

“Umit, here is the contract. I just need you to sign it and then we are fine,” Ismail places a piece of paper in front of me.

“Why did you not give me these last night?” I ask, grabbing a pen from my bag so that I can sign it.

“I forgot to give it to you last night.”

“Here, I have signed it. But I wanted to ask, what will happen if I breach the contract,” I ask because I didn’t bother to read the whole contract again.

“You will pay me $10, 000!” Ismail grins.

“I will pay WHAT!” I yell in disbelieve.

“$10, 000 and also pay for dry cleaning of the clothes.”

“Now I wished I read the full contract, but you’re not serious, right?”

“I am serious, because if I did not put that amount in, you won’t be careful around me with coffee.”

“You can’t be serious! You have to change the agreement on the contract.”

“I won’t, because it will teach you to be cautious,” Ismail says walking out.

“Ismail! Come back here we are not done talking,” I say following after him. But he gets into his car and drives off.

I walk back inside and quickly finish my breakfast and drive to the office. Once I get to the office I walk to Ismail’s office, but I can’t go in because he is in a meeting. I will have to talk to him about deleting that ridiculous amount from the contract later.

I am busy working in my office when Ismail barges in.

“You can’t just barge into my office like that,” I say glaring at him.

“Yes, I can,” Ismail says smirking, “I own the place, remember? I am your boss, so I have the right.”

“No, it does not”

“It does.”

“No, because even though you are my boss, it does not give you the right to barge into my office without at least knocking.”

“Aha! You are too smart sometimes. If it makes you feel better, I am sorry I barged into your office,” Ismail says accepting he behaved unprofessionally.

“That’s better, I like you better when you are mannered,” I smirk because I just made the almighty Ismail feel small.

“Whatever, I didn’t come here for you to teach me manners. I came here because I need your help.”

“You need my what now?” I say mockingly.

“Your help, I am going to a meeting and I need you to come with me,” Ismail states.

“Why?”

“I have a meeting with some Nigerian investors, and by bringing you it might sway them to agree to sign with me.”

“So, you want to use me to bribe my people,” I ask, raising my eyebrows.

“I did not say that,”

“Then what are you saying?” I ask.

“I am saying, I want you to come so they will see my company is a place for all, by having a Nigerian employee,” Ismail says sincerely.

“Hmm, that’s nice.”

“So, are you coming or not?”

“I will come with you, but only if you reduce the ridiculous amount I have to pay if I breach our contract,” I state firmly.

“Deal, but nothing less than $500 and you pay the drycleaning bill,” he says getting up to walk out.

“That’s fine with me,” I say, smiling while closing the windows on my computer and locking it before I follow him out the door.

We are waiting in the conference room for the Nigerian investors when they arrive. One of the men walking in is someone I did not expect to see after so many years.

“Umit, is that you?” Musa says, smiling while walking towards me. Musa and I went to the same high school, but he was a senior by a couple of years.

“Yes, it is me,” I say smiling.

“Wow! You have really grown since high school.” Musa says smiling.

“Of course, I would hope so,” I grin, “how are you doing?”

“I am fine, how are you? And what are you doing here?”

“I am fine too, and I am here with my boss.”

“As-salamu Alaykum, Mr Ibrahim,” Ismail greets putting out his hand to shake.

“Wa Alaykum salam, and you can call me Musa,” he says shaking his hand.

“Alright then, Musa, please take a seat so we can start discussing the contract.”

“Of course,” Musa answers.

An hour later we are done with the meeting. Ismail and I say our goodbyes to Musa and his colleagues. Ismail was very lucky I knew Musa because he is a very hard person to convince. I had to put in a good word for Ismail and commend his company, because I know Musa would not like doing business with an unethical person. Musa was planning on only investing into half of the project but because I know him, I was able to convince him to fund the project fully. While I am clearing the table of files Ismail speaks up.

“I am going for lunch do you want to come?” Ismail says.

“Are you asking me out for lunch?” I am shocked that he’s asking me.

“Yes, I am. But I will understand if you don’t want to come,” Ismail says rubbing his hand around his neck, looking awkward.

“I am coming. Let me get my bag from my office then we can be on our way.” I quickly walk to my office also feeling very awkward that he asked, thinking maybe this is his way of thanking me for helping him get the deal.

Ismail and I take the elevator down and use his car to drive to the restaurant. Throughout the whole ride, Ismail and I did not say a word to each other. This is the first time I have ever been in his car, and it was the most awkward ride in my life.

We arrive at a nice restaurant. Ismail and I have still not spoken a word to each other since we arrived. We both have just been staring at the menu. I won’t lie, this is the first time we are eating together without other family members present. I decide to break the silence.

“You did well today,” I say putting my menu down.

“No Umit, you did well today. I should be thanking you! So, thank you for what you did today,” Ismail says smiling.

“Is the almighty Ismail Uthman thanking me?” I say dramatically, while smiling to lighten up our mood. I knew I was right for thinking that’s why he invited me to lunch.

“You better accept it while you can, because I won’t say it again,” Ismail says, smiling, going back to being the cocky guy I know he is.

I can’t believe for the first time in all my years of knowing Ismail, we just had a conversation and did not annoy each other. It feels good, but I am sure it won’t last.

“You are welcome and what are you ordering,” I ask, trying to make conversation because I don’t want to go back to silence.

“I am ordering garlic butter shrimp with asparagus. What about you?” Ismail says, calling a waiter to our table.ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

“I will order the pastalaya” I pick up the menu to read.

“What about drinks?” The waiter whose name tag reads Mark, asks. I did not even know he was here already.

“I will have a mint mojito,” I reply putting the menu down.

“What about you, sir?”

“I will have the same,” Ismail answers.

“Alright, I will be right back with your drinks,” Mark says and walks away.

Ismail and I had a good time during lunch, which is surprising knowing the type of person Ismail is. But like they say, never judge a book by its cover. Ismail showed me a totally different side of him. I am not saying I like him or anything, I am just saying he is not as annoying as I expected.

I am back at the office. I prayed Dhuhr (afternoon prayer). I am doing some paperwork when Waheeda calls me.

“As-salamu alaykum,” I greet picking up the phone.

“Wa Alaykum Salaam, sis,” Waheeda says.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I am calling you because I miss you.”

“Waheeda, you saw me this morning, so you are not missing me. Tell me why you really called me,” I say knowing fully well she wants something, and she is trying to sweet talk me into it.

“Fine, you caught me. I am calling to ask you to please help me cook dinner,” Waheeda pleads.

“I knew it, so what do you want me to cook?”

“Thank you, and you can cook anything you like,” she says sounding very happy.

“Alright, see you when I get home.”

“Ma salam. (Goodbye)” she says hanging up.