Lioness in Hijab: Camilla's Quest to Find Her True Self

The two of us were separated by a single sheet of purple cloth, nothing more.

His eyes met mine and I felt my heart race. It had been months since I had seen him, but the feeling was still there. I smiled at him and he returned my smile with his own soft dimples. His eyes looked into mine as if they could see into my soul.

"You look beautiful today," he whispered in his velvety voice, "as always."

I giggled and reached for his hand, "I have missed you..."

He took my hand in his and pressed it against his chest over his heart. I could feel it beating as fast as my own. It gave me a sense of relief to know that he was feeling the same way that I was.

The door opened behind us and we jumped apart like children who had been caught doing something they know they shouldn't be doing. A woman wearing a white robe stepped through the threshold of the door and immediately began to berate us for our indiscretions.

"What are you two thinking?" she shrieked in her shrill voice. "Have you no decency? Have you no shame?" She tossed her robes off of her body revealing her traditional hijab dress underneath. She approached us with a huff and yanked the sheet back between us, once again creating an invisible barrier between our bodies. The woman was short and stout with dark hair tied up in a bun atop her head, exhibiting all of the beauty standards set forth by modern Islam that I did not possess.

"You may be married," she said glaring at me pointedly, "but that does not mean you can act like animals." She turned to look at him angrily and said, "And you! What kind of man are you? You should be ashamed of your actions! There is no excuse for this kind of behavior!" Her voice became louder with each word until finally she was shouting directly at us with tears streaming down her face.

She placed one hand on my shoulder and another on his as she continued to berate us while simultaneously attempting to soothe our transgressions away by pretending that they weren't there in the first place. Behind her back she began pulling on our clothes to adjust them properly; making sure that we weren't too close together or too far apart just right where God had intended us to be thousands of years ago when he decided that men would be superior to women and women would only live out their existence as wives and mothers instead of as equals alongside their male counterparts in society.

When she was finished enduring what we both knew was forbidden contact between us, she sighed deeply and gestured to a room adjacent to where we stood now standing barely inches from each other without being able to touch one another properly any longer than this temporary reprieve which had just been granted to us for reasons beyond our knowledge or understanding.

"Go inside," she said forcefully urging us along with her hands against our chests, "and wait for me." With those final words she dressed herself back up, adjusted her headscarf so that all of her hair would remain hidden from view at all times as per Islamic law, then shut the door firmly behind her before I could say anything else or do anything else that might be considered sinful in the eyes of Asalah's conservative interpretation of early 21st century Islam.