such need. I know exactly what it is. My father never turns his phone to
silent. It is 9:07 at night, a very significant time, at least today. I raise my
hands in an entreaty for calm as the adhan continues in the background.
“Everyone sit down. That’s just... it’s just the call to prayer. Relax, it’s no
big deal.” All eyes lock on me once more. I can feel that same sense of
panic bubbling to the surface, that sensation of Otherness, the feeling
that I don’t belong. I wince as my father gestures for me, indicating that I
should come upstairs and join him for the prayer. An eternity passes.
Then, a voice. I concentrate on the words, and slowly they snap
into focus. “...Naveed. Hey, I think your dad is calling you. Aren’t you
going to head over?” Curtis is looking at me with a crease of worry on
his forehead, no doubt because of my slack-jawed expression. All around
him, familiar faces watch me, their concern for me palpable.
“But, the game...”
Curtis chuckles. “Forget the game for right now. Go ahead. We’ll
wait for you.” I blink in shock. He reaches out and nudges me with his
elbow. “Hey man, we understand. Take your time. We will be here when
you get back.” Searching the eyes around me for a false note, I witness
only the harmony of solidarity. Beaming a grateful smile, I walk upstairs
with a steady gait and a buoyant heart.
47