Bushra's party is in full swing. Zainab has just insulted Christian with the 'Not in my faith' line. Now Christian wants to know what Syed thinks of him...

~s~c~

'Syed'

He grabs my arm to stop me from leaving. My eyes flick from his hand on my arm to his questioning eyes. My inner turmoil has now reached new frantic levels.

'I wanna know what it is you think of me…'

How can he ask me that? How can I answer that? I glance over to mum and her friends.

'Now… isn't the time', I manage to get out in a desperate attempt to stall for time. Everything inside of me is screaming at me to flee. My body is tensed and poised to do just that, but his hand is still keeping me firmly in place.

'Answer me!' he demands, angrily now, trying to force an answer out of me.

'It's Haram!', I almost yell at him.

'What the hell does that mean?'

I've gone this far, so I have no choice but to follow through. I meet his stare dead on and answer his question with biting words.

'It's against God's will'.

He looks like I just struck him in the face. Hurt. Confused. Dejected. I want to take it back, soften my words, explain, but he stalks off before I can say another word.

What did I do? What did I say? And why? Why? These thoughts are turning over and over inside my overactive brain for the rest of the function. Christian left without saying another word to me. I know he went back to the unit, because he told Dad. I've been going through the motions for the rest of the day. Smiling politely at compliments about the food, my beautiful fiancée, the decorations, what a 'fine young man' I've become. I've even engaged in some meaningless chatter with several people, holding up the façade. Of course no one has mentioned Christian since he left. Best to ignore him. Best to ignore what happened. If you don't acknowledge something, it doesn't exist. That is our way. Except our way doesn't seem to fit me anymore. And I have no idea what to do about it.

Today's events have forced me to deal once again with that most difficult dilemma of all. I've listed and mulled over all the reasons why I can never be with Christian. But that most important reason, my faith, has been pushed away time and time again. Christian's questions earlier have forced the issue back to the front of my mind. Is it possible to be a Muslim and be attracted to men? The thoughts in the Muslim community on this topic seem pretty clear. It is Haram. It is forbidden. It is wrong. This is what I have been taught. I'm not even sure how, or when, or by whom. It is one of those unspoken rules that everyone seems to know about.

My faith is something I cherish. I feel it in every fibre of my being. It's like I live and breathe it. Without it, I am lost. I am no longer me. The person I am, would no longer exist.

The first time I looked at a man, and admired his appearance, it scared me. I pushed the thought away, and deliberately started to focus on girls. I think I was about fifteen at the time. I had always felt comfortable in the presence of girls. And they had sought me out since my early teens. I had of course noticed the admiring glances they stole. I kind of liked it. I admit, I even encouraged them at times. But I felt no desire to take it further. And under the guise of being 'good Muslim boys and girls' no one thought anything of it. Including me.

Of course there came a time where I had to admit it to myself. The sexy adverts and videos the other boys in my class would get exited over, watching them over and over again, did nothing for me. Yet the look of a particularly handsome classmate in the shower after gym class did not leave me unmoved. I started praying more often, started reading the Quraan whenever I had a moment, to rid me of these feelings. But to no avail. I started searching the Quraan for answers, and found none. I knew I could not talk about my feelings with anyone around me, so I tried to find some answers online, with mixed results.

In the end, I did the only thing I could to survive. I compartmentalized my life, separating my feelings about men and women from my faith. I came to an understanding with myself, that as long as I did not act on my feelings, it would be ok. It gave me some peace of mind for a time. I enjoyed life, finding fulfilment with my family, my faith, getting good grades, and making friends. Occasionally I would date a girl for a while, always making sure she was a 'good Muslim girl' of course. That way I knew I was safe.

Sometimes I would worry about the future. How would I cope with actually marrying one of these girls, and being expected to consummate said marriage? But mostly, I would push those thoughts safely to the back of my mind. I was getting quite good at that. On rare, sleepless nights, those thoughts would fight their way to my full attention. I would feel retched after a night like that, wrung out, exhausted. But I got better and better at keeping up the façade, so good even, that I would almost manage to fool myself along with the rest of the world.

So I lived my life, until the day disaster struck. The day my father lost all respect for me, and sent me away from my family, banning me from their lives. Even thinking about it now, the hot tears I'm trying to hold back almost choke me. I can still feel the utter despair of having everything I knew and loved, taken away from me, feeling powerless to stop him. I don't want to think about the desertion I felt, the loneliness. I can't think back to those days without feeling the hurt rip out my heart all over again. I would do anything to prevent that from happening again. Anything.

I look around to see that the party is almost over. Most of the guests have left already, only a handful remain. Amira had left as soon as she had seen the opportunity. I can't believe mum just 'announced' our engagement. I feel oddly conflicted about it. I've thought about marrying her of course. She seems like a perfect choice. And now that my mum finally warmed up to her, nothing should be stopping me. Except something is. Christian.

I know I must go and see him. I didn't mean to hurt him, but I did. And that was unfair of me. But what else could I do? He asked me questions I don't have an answer to. Questions I've managed to keep locked in the back of my mind for ages. Questions I've made an unconscious decision about. I won't look at them too closely. I'll ignore them. If I don't acknowledge them, they don't exist. I smirk at my own thoughts. The irony is not lost on me.

So here's my problem. I can't go to see Christian. Because he wants explanations I cannot give him. But I can't not see him. He's done nothing wrong. And I've hurt him. I guess it comes down to that. Christian, that beautiful man I can't keep my eyes off, my hands off, my thoughts off, is hurt. And it was me that caused it. How can I not go to him? I have no idea what I'll say. I have no idea what I'll do. Yes, I am scared. Yes, I have doubts and reservations. But I can't not go. And that's the end of it I guess.

Reluctantly I go and find mum. I'm not surprised to find her glued to Bushra's side once again.

'Well ladies, it seems like this party was a smash!', I say with a flash smile.

They all agree with me of course, and they go on and on about all the people that came, the food being a hit, the atmosphere lively, blah blah blah. I keep up my fake smile until I spot a small pause in the conversation and grab the opportunity with both hands.

'Mum, I see we're pretty much done here with the food. How about I take the rest of the stuff back to the unit, and you and dad take down the decorations here?'

She smiles at me gratefully and agrees.

'Don't worry about coming back to the unit after. Christian will help me clean up and we'll lock up after'.

I ignore the winces at the mention of Christian's name.

'Thank you Syed, you're a good boy', my mum sais, putting a soft hand against my cheek. I swallow back my guilt, smile back at her, and start collecting the last of the empty trays.

I have no idea what I'm going to say to Christian. I'm not even sure if he'll still be at the unit when I get there. But wherever he is, I'll find him. And say… something. I realise I'm on dangerous ground, with no idea how to keep myself safe. It's a scary thought.

~s~c~

I know, I know, you all want to get to the next bit... Next week? I'll try!