Cleaning House

Carrie showed up at Mohammad's house shortly after his morning prayers. She was wearing a hijab and an abaya, to better conceal her beauty from others. Carrie curtsied when Mohammad opened the door.

"Is this better, Mohammad?" Carrie asked. Mohammad smiled thinly.

"Somewhat, but we are not there yet." Carrie looked crestfallen. Mohammad looked at her with those implacable dark eyes. "For where we are right now, this is sufficient. You will know when it is time for more." Carrie nodded.

She fixed him a tokhme banjanromi for breakfast, something to remind him of Afghanistan.

"Is it good, Mohammad?" she asked hopefully.

"This is your first time making it, yes?" he said gruffly. She nodded. "You will improve, next time." Carrie sighed, then settled in to clean house. She dusted, she cleaned the toilets, she washed the dishes. She spent the day doing more chores than she felt she'd ever done in high school. At the end, she polished his shoes, feeling very small, very **** in front of him.

"I have a gift for you, Carrie," Mohammad said simply. Carrie looked up at him, feeling insignificant for some reason. It was a book. More precisely, it was a Quran. She opened the first page. "To Carrie, from Mohammad. Mashallah," it read.

"Mashallah?" Carrie asked.

"It means Allah has willed it." Carrie took a deep breath.

"I will treasure this Mohammad," she said. Mohammad shook his head.

"You will do more than that. You will read it, you will study it. You will love it. You are on the verge of blossoming, Carrie. But you have to decide how badly you want it."

"So much, Mohammad."

"And how much you'll give up for it."

"A ... lot." Mohammad smirked.

"When you can say that more precisely, you'll be close to ready." Carrie nodded. repeating that one word, that so very foreign word ...

"Mashallah."