Huda and Me H. Hayek (reading fiction txt) 📖

the ground, and she’s swinging them back and forth under the bench. Her hands are tucked under her thighs and her backpack is a few metres away, chucked on the grass. It’s open and a pair of doll’s legs stick out. I can tell she’s comfortable and happy sitting there in the sun with this old man. She always seems to make friends easily with older people.

‘Akeal, this hotel is so cute. I met this gramps when I was pinching mulberries off the tree.’

I walk over to the two of them and he looks up at me. His eyes are so familiar.

Huda keeps swinging her legs.

‘I can’t really understand what he’s saying, and he doesn’t know what I’m saying either, but I like the guy,’ she says.

‘As salamu alaykum.’ I say hello politely.

‘Wa alaykum as salam.’ His voice is soft and smooth. It has a kindness to it. It reminds me of my mum’s voice. And then it hits me. It’s so obvious. His eyes, his voice, his warmth. We’re sitting in his garden. He’s my mum’s dad. He’s my jido.

I clear my throat and pull my shoulders back. I can’t help but want to impress him. ‘Ana ismi Akeal,’ I say, putting my hand on chest. Then I point to my sister. ‘Haidi ukhti Huda.’

He smiles and nods politely. He doesn’t know who we are. Huda has no idea who he is either. We’re all silent for a minute, just looking around at the blue sky, the leaves and the garden.

‘We should go, Akeal,’ Huda says eventually. ‘We have to find Mum and Dad.’

I shake my head at my sister. ‘We’re not going anywhere. This isn’t a hotel, Huda. This is exactly where we’re meant to be.’

My little sister opens her mouth to speak but stops. She crumples her nose and scrunches up her lips at the same time, almost like fish-lips. The penny is finally dropping.

I lean in and kiss my grandpa on the forehead. His movements are slow, but I can tell he’s a bit startled. I suppose I would be too if a random kid came up and kissed me.

‘That’s our grandpa? This is his house?’ whispers Huda, but she points right at him.

Grandpa looks confused and glances around the garden again. He seems to decide he’d better get on with gathering the leaves and leans on the broom to lift himself off the bench.

‘Let me help you, jido,’ says Huda.

When he hears the word jido, my grandpa’s eyes narrow for a split second. Then he looks at me in a way he didn’t before. He looks at Huda, who is already sweeping the leaves off the path that stretches around the yard.

‘Jido?’ my grandpa asks. He chuckles.

I stand beside him and put my arm around his shoulder. He’s pretty much my height. I always wondered if people shrink when they get older, and now I know the answer. He smells like perfume, but not the type Mum wears and not even close to the aftershave Dad puts on. But it’s a strong perfume, so deep it feels thicker than air going into my nose. I like it. I like being next to him. It reminds me of the way the mosque smells on Fridays.

‘Imak binti Hend?’ he asks.

‘Yes, my mum is your daughter Hend.’ I nod so hard my head might snap off.

‘Min Australia?’

‘Yes, we’re from Australia.’ My cheeks hurt, I’m smiling so much. I want him to know how happy I am.

And then he laughs again. But differently this time. He brings me into his arms. I rest my head on his wide, soft chest. I feel like I’m sailing through the big blue sky on the fluffiest cloud. He pats my head and tells me he’s missed me. I don’t know how he could have missed me, but I’ve missed him too. So much.

The quiet doesn’t last as long as I’d like, because I feel Huda wrap her arms around the both of us. She’s laughing. And Jido is laughing. And then I’m laughing too. We’re all laughing but not saying anything. It feels like a dream.

Through chuckles, Jido takes Huda’s chin in his hand and looks at her. ‘Mitil Hend.’

‘Really, Jido? I look like my mum?’ she says proudly.

Grandpa has tears in his eyes. He smiles and nods gently.

Then he turns to me. I think he’s going to say something special. But he frowns slightly and surprises me by speaking a little English.

‘Mum Dad know come?’ He points to the sky and then to the floor.

Back to reality.

‘Um, not exactly.’ I’m sure he doesn’t know what not exactly means, so I shake my head. He does that squintyeyed look at me again.

‘Well, Jido,’ Huda cuts in, ‘it’s kinda a long story. First we had Pineapple Head come, and then she was super mean and Akeal had to clean chicken poo and I had to scrub the—’

‘Okay, okay, Huda,’ I say. ‘I think we can go into details later.’

Jido is still smiling, but not as much as before. He’s silent now. I can tell he knows this isn’t a planned trip, but he hugs us again.

‘Have you seen Mama and Baba by any chance?’ says Huda in a high voice from underneath his armpit.

He pulls away from us and shuffles a few short, slow steps onto the pavement towards the house. Huda and I stand in the yard, not sure what to do. From over his shoulder, Jido waves for us to follow.

I don’t want to believe we might see Mum and Dad again. I don’t want to be disappointed if they’re not here.

He leads us to a wooden door on the side of the house. It looks like it’s about one hundred years old, and it creaks as he turns the knobs and swings it open. I can’t see much of the room from outside because it’s dark inside. I hold my breath and take a step in. My sister clings to me from behind.

Standing in the dark room, with her back