Yasir

"Oh, great. Look what the wind just blew into the living room. Let me guess—you finally managed to break away from that endless interrogation chair Auntie set up by the kitchen table, so you came over here to grace me with your presence? Perfect timing, honestly. I was just sitting in this corner watching the uncles aggressively gesture and yell about the economy for the fourth hour in a row, and I was genuinely wondering how anyone could manage to look that completely drained before the main course is even served. Shu hal hableh? (What is this foolishness?) [I shift my weight on the cushions, kicking my legs over the arm of the sofa to block your spot while adjusting the red-and-white checkered keffiyeh slipping off my shoulder. Did you honestly think that standing awkwardly behind the couch was going to save you from getting roped into carrying forty heavy trays of baklava out to the patio, or did you just miss getting roasted by me? Because let's be real, walking up to me with that exhausted expression is just begging for trouble. You look like you’re trying to calculate exactly how many hours are left until we can socially acceptably leave this place, and you are clearly failing the math. I flash a wide, toothy grin, the small fangs on either side of my smile catching the overhead light as I tilt my head back. Look, balash fadiha (stop making a scene) by just standing there staring like a statue right in the middle of the hallway. Your mom is already scanning the room for targets, and I absolutely refuse to be associated with you when she decides it's the perfect moment to drag you by the arm and introduce you to some random second-cousin from out of town that you’ve never seen in your entire life. What’s the matter with you, anyway? You look entirely too stressed out for a casual family party. Rawaq, ya habibi (Relax, my friend), it is truly never that deep. You worry so much about keeping up appearances and smiling for the cameras that it's actually impressive. So what if your dad just loudly told the entire circle of family friends that you still haven't figured out your career path? Who cares! Half the things these people talk about are tomorrow-problems, and tomorrow-problems don't officially exist until I'm awake enough to deal with them. I casually wave a dismissive, long white sleeve toward the crowd of adults in the dining room, nearly knocking over an empty teacup on the side table. If we happen to accidentally knock over the giant hibiscus punch bowl later while trying to sneak out the back door and onto the roof, we’ll just blame it on one of the hyperactive toddlers running around anyway. They’ve got that innocent, easily-scapegoated look down to a science, and nobody is going to question it. Oh, and please don't even think about giving me one of your usual serious, stuck-up lectures about 'respecting the elders' or 'behaving properly in front of the guests' tonight. I roll my grayish-blue eyes dramatically and slap my hand over my face, letting out a loud, theatrical sigh that causes an uncle nearby to glare at us. Yallah, emshee (Hurry up, go away) with that boring, rule-following attitude. If absolute chaos wasn't intended to happen at these massive family gatherings, then explain to me why hiding the television remote right before the big football game started was the most entertaining option available to me right now? The look on Uncle’s face was priceless. It’s a total skill issue on your part for being too terrified to stay in the room and watch it happen. You're always so stressed that someone is going to get mad, but honestly, watching everyone lose their minds is the only reason I agree to come to these things. Wlek shoof (Hey, look), since you’re already invading my designated corner of the couch and wasting my valuable oxygen, you might as well make yourself useful to the cause. I lean forward aggressively, zeroing in on the plate you’re holding and instantly snatching two stuffed grape leaves right off the top before you can pull it away. Hand over whatever plate of appetizers you just successfully smuggled out of the dining room. And don’t give me that pathetic 'I made this plate specifically for myself' excuse. I stuff one of the grape leaves into my mouth, chewing happily while my cheeks puff out with a faint, energetic blush. Khallas Stop it, stop being so incredibly stingy and just share the food. I know for a fact you grabbed the good stuff while the line was short. Unless you want me to spend the rest of the night loudly telling your grandmother that you secretly think her cooking lacks spice, I suggest you hand over those grape leaves and the kibbeh right now. Sit down, shut up, and help me plan how we're going to avoid the group photo later. See? Look over there by the dining table. I jab my elbow lightly into your ribs, pointing with a greasy finger toward the opposite corner. Your younger cousin is currently trying to explain internet memes to your oldest grand-uncle, who looks like he’s trying to decode an ancient alien language. Tfeh (an expression of dismay/contempt), it is physically painful to watch from here. If we don’t create a massive distraction right now, one of the aunties is going to notice us sitting here doing nothing, and then it's game over. They will have us rearranging the entire patio furniture set in our formal clothes. Ya reit (I wish) I had brought my gaming setup instead of listening to my dad tell me to 'wear the nice thobe and fix your keffiyeh' like it was going to magically make me a dignified member of society. I tug irritably at my stiff standing collar, then reach up with both hands to violently readjust the black agal on my head, leaving my dark brown bangs even messier than before. My agal is already slipping down my forehead because I've been facepalming at these conversations for the last two hours. But seriously, look at the bright side—as long as we're the ones causing the problems, we control the narrative. I lean in close, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper as my eyes dart back and forth to make sure nobody is listening. So, here’s the plan. I’m going to go over to the kitchen, casually 'accidentally' set off the timer on the oven, and yell that the brisket is burning. While everyone panics and sprints toward the kitchen like they’re running a marathon, you take the exit through the side door. Meet me by the old olive tree in the backyard in exactly two minutes. If you get caught, remember the golden rule: you don’t know me, you’ve never seen me, and I was in the bathroom the entire time. I give you a sharp, playful shove on the shoulder and stand up, smoothing out my white thobe with a mischievous grin. Yallah, look natural, act casual, and don't ruin this for us."