Here I come with a prompt for you: Imagine that Elizabeth goes out for a day because of business and Hamid is left alone with his daughter and she needs to have her hair braided for today. How would he manage the situation? Have fun writing! 😊
Hi, Noe! Thanks for the ask. It was really inspiring and I had a lot of fun. I’ve never wrote this kind of scene before, so I hope you enjoy!
And since I received this ask twice, I’ve decided to write one for each of the Hamids I write, one for the Prince of The Pursuit of Happiness, and another for the diplomat of Second Chances (in this case, it’s a glimpse of a distant future).
Book: Desire and Decorum - Modern AUWords: ~1.000
In the darkened room, Elizabeth leaned and kissed the man lying down, who stirred and opened one eye.
“Don’t sleep in, sleepyhead,” she kissed him again. “Prepare Sophia for school. Today is Adriana’s day off, so Briar will pick her up.”
“Okay,” he said, rubbing the sleep off his eyes.
“If everything goes as planned, I’ll be home in time for breakfast tomorrow.”
The man encircled her waist and pulled her down to the bed, kissing her passionately, his fingers digging into her hair.
“No! Don’t mess with the hair!” she squealed and squirmed out of his grasp. “I’ll be out of the plane and into the conference room.”
“You look stunning, it’ll be too distracting for them. Let me correct this…”
She playfully smacked his hand, drawing laughter from him, and sat beside him at the bed. Propping his body over his elbow, he said softly against her barely noticeable round belly, “I count on you to remind your mum to not extenuate herself.”
“I won’t,” she assured, stroking his hair.
“You better not,” he smiled looking up at her, “Don’t forget to eat. Sinclaire will tell me if you don’t.”
A last kiss and she was gone, and the man drifted back to sleep.
Ten minutes before the alarm goes off, he’s awakened by the click of the door and the sound of small feet tiptoeing their way into the darkened room. In silence, the four-year-old crawls her way into the bed and on her knees inspects her surroundings before lying beside him.
“Baba,” the girl susurrates, “Where is mamãe?”
He rubs his eyes and checks his mobile, “I suppose she’s on the plane now…”
“Aw! Why she didn’t kiss me goodbye?”
“She did. Last night. After we put you in bed and read to you.”
It takes a minute before the small voice breaks the silence again. “I wanted another kiss.”
“I can kiss you,” the man says, and she giggles with each peck pressed against her cheeks, forehead and tummy.
When the laughter subsided and the fake sound of a growling stomach reverberated, Hamid raised from the bed, taking the little girl on his arms. They had breakfast together, and her tongue was not fast enough to enunciate the many stories she wanted to tell in between bites on an apple and on a loaf of bread. Amused, Hamid paid close attention, drinking his black coffee, and asking questions about the fantastic trip she’s planning with her imaginary friend.
“After you brush your teeth, sweetie, you can watch one cartoon while I shave,” he said softly, and the toothbrush resumed working on his white teeth.
“Baba, you have to braid my hair,” she said staring at him, small lips framed by white foam.
She nodded. “Like Rapunzel’s.”
His hand gently wiped the white from her bronze face. “There’s nothing about it on your mother’s list, and I don’t know if we have enough time…”
She pouted and put the toothbrush down. “Mamãe promised I could be Rapunzel today…”
“Sorry, evladım… I don’t know how to do this,” he said, stroking her hair, and studying the disappointed look on her face. A disappointment he caused.
Inhaling deeply, he pondered if it would it be the end of the world not shaving for work once. The answer curled the corners of his mouth.
“Alright,” he said, “Let’s braid your hair.”
An ear-to-ear smile parted her lips and bouncing she followed him out of the bathroom.
Picking the mobile, he tapped a few times on the screen and found a tutorial on YouTube. Oddly enough it looked exactly like the drawing on the book they read every night this week. Turning the device, he asked, “Is this how you want your hair?”
The confirmation was an enthusiastic yes that would earn a reproving stare from her great-grandmother.
He scratched the back of his neck, and they returned to the little girl’s room. From a drawer he picked a brush and a few hair ties.
Sitting with her on the bed, like he’s done numerous mornings, he started combing the long hair, dark brown as his own, not a strand of gold or auburn, just deep brown almost black under these lights. A crown of voluminous hair almost as long as her mother’s was when they met all those years ago. However, Sophia’s hair falls in lovely waves, undulating as the waters of a serene sea.
His hand moves with care. Like it always does. Like it did when he used to disentangle it when the thin strands were shorter than his little fingers and her hands couldn’t reach the doorknobs. Or when it’s tied ponytails to avoid the dark locks to cover her eyes when her steps grew confident and the hair longer.
However, a braid will be a first time.
Probably the first one in his life.
Certainly, he never braided Elizabeth’s hair. He prefers her curls untamed, and his hands are more comfortable unpinning and undoing hairdos after each of the formal events they attend, and not the other way round.
Maybe for one of his sisters?
For a moment he remembers growing up with five noisy girls and watching them do all sorts of things to their hairs. On occasions, he’s helped them combing their long locks or holding a ponytail before apt hands added a hairclip; he’s mocked them too over disastrous haircuts; and he’ll never forget how anne was furious when Faiza secretly dyed her hair pink and, hidden behind a door, he admired her courage to stand up against their mother.
But he cannot remember doing a braid. Ever. Though he certainly watched them braiding their own hairs.
“It has to be exactly like Rapunzel’s!” Sophia says matter-of-factly over her shoulder and brings him back from the reverie.
“People will mistake you with Rapunzel herself,” he replied with a smile, and his dextrous fingers resumed sectioning the hair. First, he weaved small braids. Next, strands were crossed and twisted. From time to time, his brows knitted together, and he glanced at the mobile. Finally, the long hair was weaved all the way down and he looked proudly at it.
“Should we add some flowers?”
“Yes!” The little girl jumped up and down and clapped her small hands.
From a tall floral arrangement at the dining table he plucked a few white flowers, and carefully placed on her hair, even though he knows the fall wind will blow them away before they cross the three blocks to the preschool building.
The wide smile on her lips as she contemplates herself on the mirror are worth it. Are worth it all.
Turning and turning to try and see her father’s masterpiece, the girl sings one of the songs from the movie, before her attention shifts back to him.
“Baba! I love my hair!” she said hugging him. “Thank you!”
“I’m happy you liked it.”
“Mamãe never did one so good.”
“I’m certain she can braid your hair even better than I did.”
“She never put flowers.” Sophia said studying her reflection on the mirror. “Can we send a picture to her? She needs to learn the right way.”
Hamid pursed his lips, enjoying for a moment the boost on his ego, and snapped a few photos. Alongside with the pictures, a small text saying how much Elizabeth is loved and missed, and an audio from Sophia saying her father can braid her hair better.
tangentwithtanner
areudirty
kaledo-art
andulkaphoto
yousharknotpass
