The way she said this sounded like there were other issues and I wondered what they were, but I didn’t know her well enough to ask.
‘What was a problem initially was that he didn’t practise Islam,’ she continued as she finished off her coffee, more honestly than I would have expected from a virtual stranger. ‘I wanted to be with someone who was more conscious and on the same page as me. But he’s grown a lot and not for me. His aunt died and it changed his perspective and lifestyle. He’s come a long way and I think the timing is finally right between us.’
As Zara put away all the empty containers and wrappers into a plastic bag, I leant back in my seat and glanced at Zakariya again, wondering what God had planned for us. Zara’s story sounded complicated, despite her simplifying it for me. It looked like mine was going to be complicated too.
The journey to Wales was long. I listened to a podcast for a bit, then an audiobook before my AirPods needed charging – and so did my phone if I wanted the battery to last throughout the trek. At some point, I must have fallen asleep because I woke up with my head on Zakariya’s shoulder and my right arm casually draped across him. Mortified did not adequately convey the horror that tore through me when I realised what I was doing.
‘Oh my Lord!’ I squeaked, yanking my body away from him so quickly that I almost toppled off my seat. My half-open bag went flying and out spilled the contents, which among other, less embarrassing items, included a tampon. Half toppling, half climbing out of my seat, I squatted unattractively in the aisle and hurriedly stuffed the incriminating items back into my bag. The coach driver chose that moment to brake hard and I fell backwards. Hard.
‘It’s OK, you’re OK,’ Zakariya murmured, taking my hand and helping me back into my seat, where I moved as far away from him as possible. My hand burned from his touch and I sat on it to make the electricity die down.
‘I’m so sorry, why didn’t you wake me up?’ I looked around the coach to see if anyone had spotted my fall, but Zara and Adam had thankfully slept through the commotion.
‘I couldn’t bring myself to,’ he said unapologetically. ‘You looked so peaceful; I didn’t want to ruin it. Plus, you look nice when you’re not frowning or scowling.’
I didn’t know what to say to that.
‘Anyway, check out the view. We’re almost there.’ Zak changed the subject and I was relieved. I had suffered from enough humiliation for one day.
I looked beyond him to the view outside the window. All around us were various shades of green pierced with rock and stone; jutting up high and dipping low as the coach made its way through the park to Llanberis, where we would be starting our trek.
‘It’s so beautiful,’ I said. ‘I can’t wait to climb it.’
‘Same.’
Amidst all the God-given greenery, my falling asleep on him and then falling off my seat slowly faded away into insignificance.
The walk began after we’d all been to the toilet, done our midday prayers and some stretches. As the charity was a Muslim one and most of the volunteers were Muslim, we all prayed together in congregation, with Musa leading the salah. As soon as we finished the last step – greeting the angels on our shoulders – I jumped up, raring to go. There was something about fresh, unpolluted, crisp air that I found energising. According to Musa, the path we were taking was the longest, but the easiest. It was going to be around nine miles there and back and a climb of almost a thousand feet. I couldn’t wait.
We were told by Musa to stick together, which we sort of did. Some of the fitter members of the group ploughed ahead, the less energetic lagged behind. Zak, Zara, Adam and I were in the middle for a while, but after an hour, they had moved ahead and then it was Zak and me, walking in comfortable silence, stopping every so often to absorb the scenery. The path was mostly gravelly with occasional steps, but although I slipped and tripped once or twice, I didn’t feel scared of rolling down the mountain. Zak made sure to walk close enough to me for me to grab him whenever I lost my balance.
By the time we reached the summit, I was hot, sweaty and tired, but totally buzzing from the high of being so . . . high. The view from the top was magnificent and I inhaled it all in; the clouds swirling around us, the rocks piercing the sky, the various hues of green blending into an artistic masterpiece. I pulled out my water bottle for a much-needed drink and it immediately slipped out of my hand. Before I could grab it, it casually rolled down the mountain.
With a sigh, I collapsed onto the ground and focused on my breathing as I waited for my heart rate to settle, hoping no one had noticed.
‘What do you think?’ Zakariya asked, sitting down carefully beside me, his legs outstretched in front of him. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ I drew mine close to my chest and smiled at him.
‘It’s . . . I don’t know how to describe it. I feel so in awe, but at peace at the same time. Everything else feels so small right now. Me, my list, my life. We’re all tiny specks in this infinite universe.’
‘I know what you mean,’ he replied, staring out at the view. ‘Sometimes life feels really confusing, or difficult. It’s easy to become consumed. That’s what I love about nature. It sort of helps me recalibrate.’
I wondered what he meant by life being difficult or confusing and a tiny part of me wondered if it had anything to do with me.
‘What sort of confusing things?’ I asked, keeping my voice light and my gaze firmly on the rolling green hills before me. From my peripheral vision, I saw him turn to look at me for a moment longer than necessary.
‘All sorts,’ he said, his tone indicating that he wasn’t prepared to reveal anything further. ‘Anyway, it’s nearly time to pray. You getting up?’
‘Sure.’ Disappointed that this was the end of the conversation, I got up and followed him back to the rest of the group, who were forming the lines for the late-afternoon prayer, Asr.
Zakariya offered to recite the call to prayer, which he did in the most beautiful, melodic voice. Time stood still, his voice like nectar to my ears, and when I was able to tear my eyes from him, I noticed quite a few other girls watching him, mesmerised.
Performing our salah at the top of the summit was something else. Every time my forehead touched the ground, I felt a wave of peace engulf me. Up here, I felt closer to God than I had ever done. When it was over, I slowly took off the scarf I had placed around my head like a makeshift hijab and wrapped it back round my neck, but as I walked towards Zakariya, I was beaten to it by two giggly uni students who flanked him on either side. Stopping dead in my tracks before I embarrassed myself by approaching him, I tried to ignore the pang of disappointment and jealousy that had a firm grip on my heart and turned away.
‘What’s up with you two then?’ Zara asked me as we began the slow descent down to sea level.
‘Huh? What do you mean?’
‘You and Zak. Don’t pretend there’s nothing going on! I saw you cuddled up with him on the coach.’ Grinning, Zara gave me an indiscreet wink and I stopped myself from pushing her over the cliff.
‘We weren’t cuddling! It was an accident,’ I protested weakly, knowing full well that it was futile.
‘If you say so,’ Zara said sceptically, linking her arm through mine as we continued our steady descent downwards and I tried my best to watch my footing on the rocky path instead of watching Zak disappear further out of sight with his fan club.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The coach journey back felt strange, more tense than the ride there, but that could have been because we were both awake the whole time. We were acting normally – I shared my sandwiches and cake with him, he shared his wrap and crisps with me; we chatted about the trek, browsed our phones, talked about books we were reading and podcasts we were listening to (he was a massive fan of self-help and productivity books and pods) – all the while being careful not to accidentally brush each other’s arms or get too close. He also revealed that he was more of a DC guy than a Marvel guy – which was a red flag in my eyes. DC Comics were so much darker than Marvel, which made me wonder if he was more complicated than he let on.
Malik was waiting for me when I arrived in Victoria at around ten in the evening, so I bid Zak a hasty farewell, relying on the blanket of darkness to hide his features from my unsuspecting brother. The two giggling girls hung around, obviously hoping to get onto the Tube with their crush. The thought annoyed me, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. Hugging Zara goodbye and waving to Adam and Zak, I jumped into Malik’s Beemer and didn’t look back.
The next few weeks were a blur of completing other items on the list:
13. WATCH CITIZEN KANE 