Chapter Text
Saira. Independent badass Saira, disowned because of her punkband Saira, soon to be 30 years old Saira. All these thoughts swirled in her mind as she exhaled the smoke from one of Taz’s blunts —damn Taz loved her strong stuff.
Saira wasn’t a romantic person (pfft as if!) but she sometimes wondered about ideal partners and dream relationships.
That is what she's doing now sprawled on her bed taking long drag after drag from Taz damn good blunt and thinking. Not reflecting. She's not that old yet. No, just casually thinking about why any relationship with any man (even The Man Abdullah bless him) never worked.
Saira, contrary to popular belief, knew how to behave, she lived long enough in her parent’s home to know she can. She had enough passing relationships to know that.
She wondered why, aside from Lady Parts, she didnt have someone that liked her. Liked her liked her. She dragged a hand down her face “God now I’m talking like a schoolgirl” she mutters to the empty room.
She thinks about her bandmates and their relationships. She think about badass Bisma and her husband and Imani, she cant even muster enough hate because she loves them, they’re practically her second family.
She thinks about Ayesha and her girlfriend’s, the highs and lows of queer dating as a Muslim and the win and losses.
She thinks about the truly independent Taz, how if she found a partner she would probably let them act as a secretary most of the time. She huffs a laugh at the thought before her thoughts drift to their last and latest member.
Amina.
Desperate to be liked and wed Amina. The one who got her heart broken by the ungrateful Ahsan after knowing him for only a couple weeks, Amina. The people pleasing Amina.
She would understand why she hadn’t gotten a partner to stick around this far, but she couldn’t understand why Amina hadn’t.
Amina with her anxiousness and jittery hands and the PhD and kindness and the warm eyes and the sweet smile— wait what! She sat up putting the blunt on the ashtray next to her bed. She eyed it suspiciously, did it have shrooms or something what are those thoughts.
She lied down on her bed again blunt-less staring at the ceiling and thinking about Amina. Damn it.
She thought about their first meeting, the one way back then. Was it fate— God! She has got to stop thinking like a teenager. London Muslim spaces overlapped thats it.
If it was truly kismet it wouldn’t have brought her an anxious beautiful woman to her doorstep.
GOD.
Not beautiful.
Not ugly either.
She looked sort of deer like, a deer constantly caught in headlights where they give you those cute wide eyed open mouthed look.
NOT CUTE.
She dragged a hand down her face again. God! its not real thoughts, its the weird blunt doing weird stuff to her mind.
It’s not like Saira didn’t have feelings for women before, she didn’t have any of those internalized homophobia shite.
But
It was just that Amina wasn’t anyone. Amina didn't date to date, she dates for marriage. Which is good for her or whatever Saira isn’t interested in marriage or fancying women who want boring heterosexual marriages.
She groaned at her own thoughts, where did fancy come from!
Her phone dingged beside her and she saw a text from Amina saying if she could come hang. God she felt her hands becoming clammy what a stupid body she had. She chewed her lips as she types and deleted multiple responses:
-Sure come around!
An exclamation mark really? Ugh delete.
-Sure.
No, that was too cold for Amina.
-Sure I’m all yours.
She deleted that one immediately. What was wrong with her!
-Yea course.
Simple and classic or at least that's what she hoped for.
She decided to take one last drag of the blunt to battle the nerves, its not like they’ve never hung around alone like that its just the stupid blunt thoughts making it seem significant when its chill.
They’re chill.
And just friends.