Dinner

“Baba,” you greeted your father as he closed the front door behind him having just returned home from work.

“Ah, Ahyan. Have a good day?” he asked you offhandedly as he put down his bag and shed his jacket. “Oh dinner smells good.” There wasn’t even a moment to answer his question as you followed the hungry man to the dinner table where your mother had just finished putting down plates. You watched your father greet your mother with a quick hug around her shoulders, his eyes fixed on the dinner spread. “Smells really good,” he added as he went to take his seat. Your mother gave you an odd look that made you smirk but you took your own seat as did your mother across from you.

Like any normal dinner you had every day, conversation was a standard affair where your father talked about what odd thing happened at work today or who did something stupid. Pleasant stories, sometimes funny, most of the time just boring. When he was done with the debriefing of his day he turned his attention to you, dipping some bread into the hummus as he regarded his now 18 year old son.

“Study today?” he asked simply, the usual question. You nodded with a smile. “I’ve also been studying the Quran more,” you said. “Started following the new rakats during prayers now that I’m of age.” You watched for your father’s reaction as he ate his food and nodded, not sure if he was really listening. But then he stopped, hearing you, then frowned as he turned to see you like he hadn’t properly looked at his son for a long time. Memories were forming in your oldman’s head, his expression going from confusion to mostly unreadable. He looked over to your mother who had kept her eyes low as soon as the conversation turned to the Quran. He looked back at you and swallowed. “Of course…” he nodded, slowly, forcing his brain to accept this new, yet ancient information. Now you knew he understood the implications of what you had just told him, and wondered what images were brewing in his head involving his wife and son. How would he react?