Inside the apartment complex, tensions are rising as, the Saids finish checking themselves over in the mirror:

Zara’s wearing a pair of jeans, a white, long sleeved shirt and the hijab that her ex boyfriend, Jaleel bought her.

Adam’s wearing a green short-sleeved shirt, sunglasses, shorts and a necklace that says ‘Allah’ on it.

Mahmoud’s wearing a white Kurta Pajama set with plain, white trainers.

“Why can’t you be a good kid and go to the Mosque like your Sister?” Mahmoud asks Adam, fixing his cap onto his head.

Adam turns around to look at her. “Because I’m not her. I’m Adam Said. Not Zara.”

“You shouldn’t be wearing silk.” Mahmoud sighs. “In fact, you shouldn’t be dressed like one of those hipsters at all.”

“Why?”

“You know why. You should be respecting the code of the Mos—“

“—I’m not even praying. I’m just going for the party afterwards.”

“Of course you are. I don’t know why my brother even invited you in the first place. You didn’t even observe Ramadan this year.”

“Maybe I’m his favourite nephew?” Adam winks jokingly as he waits for Mahmoud to finish up. Irene walks in, sighing. “What?”

“Listen to your Baba—“

“—I am, and it’s hurting my ears—“

“—And apologise for being disrespectful.”

“Why are you sticking up for him? You can barely even tolerate each other anymore.”

Mahmoud pulls him over to the side. “I’m not bringing you with us now.”

“Why?”

“So you can reflect on how disrespectful you’ve been.” Mahmoud adds, turning around with the car keys. “Find your own way over.”

Adam sighs, watching his family begin to walk away.
---
After several missed calls and attempts at calling a bus, he decides to call it a day. Uncle Amir’s place is too far away.

And he doesn’t have enough money to get a taxi there and back again, nor does he want to face his Baba.

Sighing, he tries once more to make a call to Adnan, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst. No response, once again.

Finishing the rest of his cigarette, he slowly trudges back inside, deflated. Ready for a nap.

Across the city, things are kicking off. The celebrations are underway and are being done Amir Said style.

Larger than life, and in a palace fit for a king, everyone’s enjoying themselves.

He hopes that no-one will leave disappointed:

“Who wants shots?” Amir asks with a smile etched across his face.

Mahmoud raises his eyebrows. “Shots of what?”

“Mint tea. Or coffee, if you’re feeling daring.”

“And what else?”

Amir shrugs. “Whatever else you want.” He looks around the room. “Where’s my favourite nephew?”

“He’s not here.”

“Why?”

Mahmoud sighs. “He was rude and disrespectful to his parents.”

“He’s not a little kid anymore.”

“He still lives at my house. He’s at home, stewing over things.”

Amir shrugs. “If you treat your children like kids, they’re gonna stay that way longer.”

“He needs to know the cost of the consequences—“

“—I think he knows. I think he’s entitled to his own opinions now. I invited him here for a reason—“

“—He’s my Son and I’ll punish him as I see fit. I don’t want to hear anymore.” Mahmoud hisses, pushing his way through the crowd to find Zara, who’s sitting on the sofa beside her cousin, Adnan.

“Hello, Dad.”

“Hi, Sweetheart,” he adds with a smile, sandwiching himself into the free space between them both, “are you enjoying yourself so far?”

Zara nods back with a smile etched across her red lips. “Yeah, it’s fun been fun so far.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Are you, Baba?”

Mahmoud nods, sinking further into the sofa. “Of course I am. I heard the snacks are coming soon. Aunt Aisha’s been busy in the kitchen.”

“Is she still busy?”

“I’m not too sure.”

“Does she need some help? I could go and have a look now.” Zara adds, getting up from the sofa. “I’ll see you in a moment.”

“Sure.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, she walks away from the scene and out into the front garden. Sitting down, she lets out a smile as Marco, dressed in a pair of pink khaki pants, white shirt and sandals comes to sit down beside her on the bench.

Setting the champagne down on the ground beside them, he kisses her on the cheeks twice. Zara laughs.

“What?”

“I can’t believe you brought champagne to Eid.”

Marco shrugs. “What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s like bringing a rack of ribs or a steak to a vegan picnic.”

“Oh?” Marco blushes. “Well, maybe us two can drink it—“

“—Or we can spike my Baba’s drink.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Marco adds, hiding the bottle as far as he can underneath. “Speaking of idiotic things, where’s your brother?”

Zara sighs. “He got mouthy with my Baba, so he’s basically grounded for the night.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t expect anything less from him. Is Adnan around at least?”

“Of course. He lives here.”

“Still?”

“I wouldn’t leave if I was getting free food, free housing and everything cleaned and made for me.”

“Fair point.” Marco smiles. “If that’s the case, I’ll just sleep on the sofa and refuse to leave and become Marco Said.”

She places her hand beside his. “You might need to stay out in the sun longer.”

He laughs. “And learn enough Arabic to blend in. I already know French.”

“What do you need that for?”

“Don’t Moroccans speak French?”

She nods. “Well, some of them. Mostly the snobs, but it’s a second language. Lingua Franca, quite literally.”

“Not only are you pretty, but you’re also smart. You’re like a living wet dream.” Marco teases. She laughs and shakes her head. “What?”

“Too much information.” She adds, checking her watch. “I need to help my Aunt. Take that bottle of champagne into the cellar downstairs and don’t say a word okay?”

“Okay,” he adds, scooping the bottle back up again and kissing her before skipping inside.

In a house of squares, he sticks out like a sore thumb, but he doesn’t care. Everyone’s adorning singular coloured blocks of conservative clothing, drinking punch and gathering in small cliques around the lounge areas.

Amazed by the size of the place, he lets out a gasp as he walks down the steps. Walking inside the cellar, his voice echoes out a “wow”, before he starts to sing In The Air Tonight.

“I can feel it coming in the air tonight.”  

“I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life.” sings back to him

“Oh, Lord?” Marco replies back surprised. In the corner of the room by the fridge is Adnan, gathering up some packages of home made food. Marco walks over to him.  

“Hi, Marco,” he adds with a grin, noticing the bottle in his hands, “you might need that to cope with the people out there.”

Marco laughs back. “Sorry, I forgot that Eid was a non-alcoholic celebration.”

“Don’t worry about it. Leave it down here and we can drink it later when the guests leave. Have a glass or two.”

“I thought Muslims didn’t drink?”

“No, I don’t usually. Except on special occasions, or when the caca hits the fan.” Adnan laughs. “Are you looking for Adam?”

Marco shakes his head. “I heard he got into an argument with Mahmoud and ended up not coming here.”

“Yeah. Zara mentioned something like that. He was voicing opinions about his identity strongly as well, from what I heard.”

“You mean, he finally came out of the closet?” Marco jokes, setting the bottle in a free space between a pile of unopened boxes.

“No. They got into some argument over him wearing a silk shirt... I think?”

Marco laughs. “That sounds about right. I’ll text him in a bit. My phones low on battery. I’ve been using it to watch YouTube and flirt.”

Adnan smiles as they walk out together. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

“I’ll tell you, if you promise not to tell anyone. Especially not Adam. Or your Uncle.”

“Okay, deal.”

“Zara. I like her a lot, okay? She’s a breath of fresh air and special to me. I enjoy her company.”

“You like my cousin? That’s sweet. Zara’s a good girl. Just treat her right, okay? If you want some advice, you can just come to me.”

“For real? You’re so chill about it. I thought you’d freak out or disapprove of things.”

Adnan shrugs. “Why would I? You’re a decent guy underneath it all and she seems to like you back as well. You two seem in love.”

Marco smiles back and hugs him. “I’m glad you think that. I’ve actually given up all my porn just to be closer to her.”

“Did she get over last night?”

“Yeah, and so did Adam. Georgia dragged me out of the club and she bought me a coffee and brought Zara over to talk to me and try sober me up. Then we got a bus home.”

“That’s good.” Adnan adds, fixing the boxes in place and setting them down. “Well, I’m going to organise this display.”

“See you in a bit.” Marco adds, walking across the floor aimlessly in a bid to find Zara once again, trying his hardest not to get lost in a sea of people.

After five minutes or shoving around (and a plate full of food later), he decides to sit down at the sofa area. Setting his food down, he looks across at Mahmoud opposite him, sipping on his third cup of herbal tea. The man looks back at him.

“Hello.” Marco says, finishing his mouthful of Lamb Tagine. “This food’s amazing.”

“Yes it is. My sister in law makes it from scratch.” Mahmoud adds, examining Marco from head to toe. “Why do you not have a head covering?”

“Me? I’m not really religious, Sir. I got invited here by a friend but he’s not shown up. He got into an argument with his Dad, or something. His Dad seems really strict.”

“That’s my Son, Adam you’re talking about there.” Mahmoud adds. “He didn’t come tonight because he was rude to me and his Mama. He needs taught a lesson.”

“Oh, okay. I came anyway and I’m enjoying the atmosphere so far. I think Eid is an interesting celebration.”

“You think Eid’s interesting?”

“Well, it’s nothing like anything that I’ve been brought up with.”

Mahmoud nods. “What are you? Catholic?”

Marco shrugs back. “I was, but now I’m not too sure. I’m still thinking about things and searching, you know?”

“I know how you feel. I was once young and lost but I found myself before it was too late—“

“—I hope to do the same too—“

“—If you need anyone to talk to, my friend Younes might be able to help you out.” Mahmoud points to a tall, attractive middle aged man wearing a dark shirt. “You could book an appointment with him. He’s a licensed therapist and has helped me a lot with my issues.”

“Thank you uh...”

“Mahmoud.”

“Mahmoud. I’m Marco. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Mahmoud adds, looking up at Zara, who’s walked over and is standing beside him. “I’ve just met your brother’s friend.”

“And how are you finding him?”

“He seems fine but a little lost, aren’t you?” Mahmoud asks. Marco nods back. “Maybe he’ll find his feet someday.”

“Maybe.” Zara adds smiling at Marco. “He seems like he has potential.”

Marco nods back and looks at his empty plate. “Nice to meet you, Mahmoud. I’m going to get more food.”

“Sure, Marco.”

Marco nods as he gets up from the sofa with the cleaned plate tucked under his arm.

Five minutes later, Zara walks back over towards the buffet and finds him waiting by the door. She taps him on the shoulder.

“Finally.” Marco says.

“I tried to escape sooner but he started talking about Younes and how he could help you, a lost soul find the light.”

Marco laughs. “Sounds like we need to get out of here.”

“Yes, please.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the master guest room.” Zara adds. “I know a shortcut where we can avoid everyone.”