Ding Dong

Your mother was washing the dishes when the doorbell rang. Your father had retreated to his study, so it was up to you to answer the door. You had the biggest stupid grin on your face, and your brother in-law returned a tired smile in return which you could tell was from the long drive. Ibrahim’s eyebrows were bushy and his usually well groomed beard was wild around the edges.

“Hey dude,” he said, stepping through the doorway with heavy suitcases in both arms and dropping them with care against the wall. You gave him a nod as he took a moment to breathe, hands on his hips. “I have not been here in a minute,” he remembered, gazing deeper into your parent’s home. He shook head to break out of his exhaustion and motioned for you to follow him outside. “Help me with the bags.” Of course you would, already slipping into the sandals at the door.

“Where’s Fareeha?” you had to ask.

“Your sister fell asleep in the car. I thought I’d just let her rest for a bit and take all of our stuff inside first,” said your ever considerate brother-in-law. You saw her then, through the glass of the windscreen, eyes closed and head back on the angled seat. As you passed by the passenger side you smiled at her slightly opened mouth as she slept. Her head was wrapped in a colourful scarf, and she looked quite a bit like your mother.

The trunk was stuffed full and you wondered how long they planned on staying. You asked as much. “A couple of months at least,” was Ibrahim’s answer. “We’re lucky the place didn’t cave in completely. Lot of roofs in the neighbour got fu-.. damaged. So yeah… it’s gonna take a while to fix. So we thought we better be prepared.” You helped him pull out some more large pieces of luggage. There was something that looked like a packed down table that was yet to be built. You had to guess what it was for.

One more trip and the car was almost fully unloaded.

“You guys are upstairs in the guest room… my sister’s old room,” you reminded your brother-in-law. You all but winked. He remembered where it was, obviously, and just grimaced and started to lug bags upstairs. “I’ll get Fareeha,” you added, and the man stopped midway up the stairs for a moment then continued on his way. You made your way back to the driveway.

Fareeha started from your taps on the window. She frowned, taking in her surroundings, then saw you through the glass and her expression softened. She rubbed her eye as said something but it was muffled behind the door. You just smiled and opened it for her.

“Akhi al-sagheer,” she called you, taking your hand. My little brother. You helped her insofar as your arm was a human railing. She groaned as her comfy runners hit the concrete and she let her full weight onto her feet. “Did you get taller?” she wondered as you shut the car door behind her. Your back straightened and she waddled next to you.

“How far along are you now?” you asked, guiding her to the house.

“Six and half months,” she said, resting a hand on her swollen belly. “Back is killing me.” You licked your lips as you took in your sister’s full figure. She was modestly covered of course, a shawl over her shoulders. The billowing pregnancy dress swept behind her. Her stomach was prominent and you wondered if she would fit through the doorway if she was walking sideways. Your thoughts were interrupted seeing someone else in the doorway. “Umi!” cried your sister, hobbling up the last few steps a bit faster.

The smile on your mother’s face was sweet, her eyes half lidded.

“Abnataya,” she sighed. My daughter. She took your sister’s hands, and then, after giving you a quick glance, pulled Fareeha in for a kiss. It was a surprise to the pregnant woman and she let out a squeak. Having her own mother’s lips against her had your sister frozen, then when the tongue slipped in she tried to pull away. “Mom! What are you d-?”

Your mother’s hands slid up to grab your sister’s face and she hungrily kissed your sister again. You got over your shock and enjoyed the show despite your meekly struggling, confused sibling.

“A mother and daughter should always greet each other with sensual tongues as a honor to Allah,” you said, reciting fresh scripture. The words were not a surprise to your sister all of a sudden, although your recitation of them was a little odd. She hadn’t known about your recent interest in studying the Quran but she couldn’t think about that now. Her cheeks were burning, knowing you were just standing there watching her, but as those soft lips of your mother melted against hers she re-accepted her reality. She was a devout muslim after all. She shared her sensual tongue with the woman who raised her. She even let out a faint, gasping moan as your mother pressed herself against her. When they finally broke, your sister swayed on her tired feet.

Your mother took half a step back to take in the state of her beautiful pregnant daughter. So pregnant. She reached up, wiping a spot of drool from the corner of your sister’s mouth then tracing a thumb along her quivering lower lip.

“Welcome home, Fareeha.”