StanleyP
I knew it!
AnaBGR
... maybe some potential profits from an unexpected source.
StanleyP
I have no idea what that means, but I’m intrigued. Keep me posted.
I had no idea what I meant either. I looked up from my phone at my cousin and brother-in-law. Fahim was still pitching, throwing his entire weight behind each throw, while my cousin methodically knocked each one into the green. No wonder Rashid was applying for an athletic scholarship. He was really good.
I caught my cousin’s eye and tapped my wrist. It was time for jumah, and I didn’t want to be late. We had to stop by the house to pick up Baba; attending weekly congregational prayers at the mosque was the highlight of his week. I was looking forward to Imam Abdul Bari’s comforting sermon as well.
THE MOSQUE WAS WALKING DISTANCEfrom our house, but we drove to make it more accessible for Baba. Yusuf met me in the parking lot as Rashid helped Baba from the car. He shook hands with everyone before leading me to one side.
“Have you heard the rumours about Wholistic Grill?” My friend grinned, barely able to contain his glee.
“What are you talking about?” I asked. My family was waiting for me.
“Apparently one of their workers was injured on the job and has threatened to sue. I heard they also have a rodent problem and they failed their health inspection. And it turns out their meat isn’t actually halal.”
“Don’t believe everything you read online,” I muttered, thinking rapidly. I had made up one of those rumours and encouraged two others, but they seemed to be taking on a life of their own. What had I started?
“I thought you’d be happy,” Yusuf said, puzzled. “This is great newsfor Three Sisters. Lots of people have been getting in touch about the protest. People will want to hear from you, as the daughter of the owner of a neighbourhood institution. Could you say a few words? All of this is going to make a real difference, Hana.”
“No,” I said shortly. “It won’t make a bit of difference, actually.” I walked away from Yusuf, back towards my family, but he followed.
“What do you mean?” he pressed.
Thoughts buzzed around me. “All these people sharing this ‘reliable’ information about Wholistic Grill—have they been eating at Three Sisters instead?” I asked slowly. The rumours had been circulating for nearly two weeks and our restaurant had not benefited by one extra cent. If anything, business had gotten worse. “These people, so worried about authentic halal meat or preserving the legacy businesses in Golden Crescent—I haven’t seen them at our restaurant. Their outrage hasn’t filled our register. Mom is planning to close the store.”
Yusuf’s eyes widened at my words. “I didn’t know things were that bad.”
“They are, and attacking Aydin’s business hasn’t—won’t help,” I amended. I had thought myself so clever. I had thought I was taking StanleyP’s advice. I had expanded on his words and put everything into destroying Wholistic Grill, even after Aydin pleaded with me to take down the online allegations. I had hoped the virtual mob would take up the cause and frequent Three Sisters instead of Wholistic Grill, maybe sink his business before it even opened.
I felt foolish now. Why hadn’t I thought to take active steps to help Three Sisters? My time would have been better spent working on our restaurant’s website or encouraging my mother to revamp the menu or invest in a modest renovation, or even using social media to engage in targeted advertising. Instead I had delighted in trolling Aydin togive myself some sense of power. It had been for my benefit only; it hadn’t helped Three Sisters at all.
With a sinking sense of horror, I realized I had transferred my rage and hate onto someone who was neither the source of my frustration nor responsible for our failure, just as our downtown attackers had done to us. Anger was easier, feeling justified in my tactics more satisfying. Trying to change my world was the harder path, and less likely to succeed. My face burned with shame.
“I’ll make sure the protest has a huge turnout,” Yusuf vowed now, mistaking my silence for despair. “A thousand—no,fivethousand people. You’ll see, Hana. Wholistic Grill won’t know what hit them.”
My friend meant well, but I knew his efforts wouldn’t help. I sighed and thanked him anyway. Rashid was right—Yusuf really was anullu. But I didn’t have to be one.
ZULFA STOOD AT THE MAIN DOORSof the Toronto Muslim Assembly, handing out flyers. She looked pretty in a long-sleeved floral dress that reached to the ground, black hair tucked beneath a tan hijab. She stopped distributing long enough to give me a hug as I passed by.
“How are you holding up?” she asked, sympathetic.
“I’m fine,” I said automatically, not sure what she meant.
“If you need to talk or need some advice on how to handle all this attention, let me know,” Zulfa said.
What was she talking about? If anything, I should be making sure she was okay, after the extra work I had created for her PR machine with my rumours.
She pasted a cheery smile back on her face and stuck a coupon into my hand. “Free gourmet milkshakes with every artisanal organicburger purchase, for a limited time!” she said, swiftly switching gears. “We’re trying to get people excited about our opening. Everyone loves free stuff, right? I hope you’ll be able to make it, Hana. I know Aydin would love to see you.” Her smile was friendly as she moved on to the person approaching behind me—Rashid. Of course he would be lurking nearby.
My cousin greeted Zulfa with a goofy smile and took one of the flyers. “I will be at the opening,” he said. “Will you allow me to buy you a milkshake?”
