by S. Nahar
I saw Mom leaning against the door frame with a small smile. I rolled my eyes. ”It’s nothing.”
“I may be getting a divorce, but I know that my son has a crush.”
I got up. “Mom, go to bed.”
Instead of leaving, she settled herself next to me on the bed but I wasn’t in the mood. The shackles that strained me seemed to get tighter; my inner demons poking through, telling me I was worthless. I was a mess and my family would never be like other families. Love wasn’t a force strong enough to hold two people together.
I knew my mother would get sick of my father’s antics, but I didn’t expect that day to come so soon. My father wasn’t a horrible person; however, he had a child with another woman. I couldn’t bear to face him, not now, not ever.
I didn’t want to see him again. I didn’t trust my actions in his presence.
“I’m serious, Damon. I don’t want things going on between your dad and I to affect you so much.”
I clenched my fist. “Don’t you already see how much it affects me? I have a half sibling, Mom! This isn’t something I can easily brush off.”
She inhaled a sharp breath and I feared that maybe my words hurt her. “You’re right. Damon, I am so sorry, but I don’t regret my decision of leaving your father,” she said firmly, although the hurt was clearly evident in her hazel eyes.
“I didn’t expect you to,” I muttered.
“Don’t hate your father. He’s still family,” she sighed.
“I am not related to that filthy pig,” I growled.
“Damon, you can’t hate your father. It’s not right.”
“I don’t care. He’s a bastard that deserves to rot in hell.”
“Damon—”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m just really mad,” I forced out. ‘Mad’ wasn’t even the right word to describe my emotions.
She nodded her head in understanding. “I think you should talk to your father. It might help you cope with everything.”
“No,” I stated. “I don’t care what you say, but he’s not my father anymore.”
Stress lined her forehead creasing, it seemed like my mother had aged ten years more. Although her husband’s betrayal from years ago cut like blades against her sensitive skin, she was a mother above all else, my mother to be exact. I was her priority.
“I… I understand how hard life has been, Damon,” she choked over her own words, tears brimming her eyes. My hand instantly grasped hers. “With that fight from your old school, this move, your father’s gambling, and now this. I know how hard it is.”
“I don’t think you know the extent of it.”
Her tearful eyes met mine, her own body shattering before my eyes as all the years of fighting with Dad finally struck her. “Did you think I liked watching my son come home with a busted lip and bruises all over his body? Did you think I was happy watching hatred eat you as the days went by because of one student? I saw your future flash before my eyes. I saw you becoming just like your father, damaged and troubled.”
The memory of Luqmaan pained me. “I don’t want to talk about my old school. I don’t want to talk about Dad.”
“That’s exactly the problem, Damon!” she exclaimed. “You can’t keep running away when people hurt you. You can’t keep searching for a release from your life problems. You even refuse to talk to your father, instead, you run away.”
Damn, that hit a nerve. I couldn’t contain the eruption of anger from fueling my system. Without thinking, my mouth spat fire on its own accord with my mind blinded by rage.
“Isn’t that why you moved away from us, Mom? You wanted to run away, too! You didn’t want to accept that your husband was fucked up. You ran away and took us with you!” I yelled, retracting my hand as I stood up, glowering down at her. “Don’t tell me not to run away when you did the same thing.”
“Damon, I never said I was perfect.”
“Then why do you expect me to be?” I croaked. “I’m not perfect, Mom. I’m fucked up just like Dad. I’m a lost cause just like he is. Your fears were right. I am just like him.”
The thought broke me. I felt my heart drop and my mind fog into a tortuous memory. I remembered that day so clearly and I relived it every night. I remembered Luqmaan’s betrayal.
He had me cornered in the hallway, stalking me like a hawk. His friends came out from behind, swiping a knife right at my throat as they threatened to slit it unless I gave them what they wanted: drugs. It had all been for drugs.
Luqmaan wanted to kill me, calling me an infidel, a man who deserved to die at the hand of terrorists. He praised their work, called himself a Muslim of divine right. Our friendship was meaningless.
Until Amira happened, I believed all other Muslims were some twisted version of Luqmaan, people who wished to eradicate me from this world because I wasn’t like them. I didn’t realize I was doing the same thing to the Muslims.
“Damon,” Mom softly said. “You’re not like him.”
“How would you know? I found release in immoral things, Mom. I’m not capable of loving or to be loved.”
Her gaze softened. “But there’s a girl in your mind, sweetheart. You care for her, don’t you?”
I mutely nodded.
“So, you are indeed capable of loving and of being loved. Anyone can fall in love, Damon, but not everyone is good at maintaining their relationships. Your father was the latter.”
“Maybe we both need to stop running away,” I whispered. “Maybe we should both face things head on.”
She smiled. “I think so, too. Go tell that girl how you feel tomorrow. You might not get another chance.”
“You should talk with Dad.”
That night, my mother and I made a silent pact with each other, a toast to our future. Escaping reality wasn’t an option anymore because everything in life was hidden under a veil and a touch of sorrow. Sadness didn’t have to silence the weak, not if I could face my problems with my own courage.
Chapter 28
Two Hearts
Amira Sarker
I sat down on the bleachers, watching the students train for their next soccer match. Groups of students chased after the ball, tripping, screaming, and yelling orders at each other. The sun blazed against their backs, sweat staining their uniforms. Blades of grass flew into the air, students brushing against the hard surface of the world.
Damon told me to wait at the bleachers after school, so he could tell me something. His eyes had been red and puffy like he had spent the previous night in the turmoil of an emotional rollercoaster. I didn’t ask questions, but I knew whatever he had to tell me, it bothered him throughout the night.
I sat there for several minutes. Where is he?
“Hey!” a voice called.
I jolted upright as Damon ran toward the bleachers. He was sweating a lot. His jersey clung to his sculpted chest, touching all the hard creases on his body. Sweat beads dripped down the side of his face, falling to his shoulders. His wet hair stuck to his forehead, drenched in a hard day of work.
He sat next to me panting and trying to regain his posture. I couldn’t stop the giggle from escaping my lips at the state he was in.
“Shut up,” he muttered.
“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” I pouted.
Damon’s lips slowly curled into a smile, his bright green eyes staring at me with such emotion that I was left breathless.
Clearing my throat, I asked, “So what did you want to tell me?”
He straightened, looking flustered as he tried to form the words. I tilted my head slightly, studying him with curiosity. He closed his eyes for a brief second as if trying to give himself confidence, clenching and unclenching his fists as if he was in pain or serious frustration.
What is so important that the usually arrogant Damon is now shy?
He opened his eyes, and they shined with a vivid emotion that I couldn’t interpret. Maybe I didn’t want to interpret it because of what it could mean.
“Promise me
that if I say it, you won’t run away. Okay?” he asked.
“I promise.”
He looked me in the eyes. “I love you,” he said softly.
I froze. He couldn’t love me. Maybe I heard him wrong.
“What?” I asked, shocked.
“I said, I love you.”
The three words that I desperately wanted to hear my whole life was now being said to me. I panicked instead of celebrating. Damon couldn’t fall in love with me. If he did, it was going to hurt him even more when he would see me gone in the future. I didn’t care what would happen to me, but I cared about Damon. It was then that I realized that I was in love with him, too.
I loved him.
“Amira,” he pleaded. “Say something.”
“You can’t love me,” I said hoarsely.
He chuckled half-heartedly. “Sweetheart, I can’t control these feelings anymore. I fell hard for you and I’m still falling. I can’t get you out of my mind. No matter what I do, you’re always there for me. I can’t even focus without you. I—I love you so damn much that it hurts,” he said with honesty dripping from his every word.
“Damon, are you sure that you love me?”
“I’ve never been so sure in my entire life,” he admitted.
I choked up. “You can’t love me. You’re going to get hurt.”
He shook his head with a slight smile. “I don’t care. I can’t stop loving you.”
“Damon, love can ruin you. Don’t you understand? I might ruin you.”
“Then let it ruin me. Amira, I’m in love with you and I can’t stop it,” he said softly, reaching to grab my hands. I felt tingles reach up my arms. “I need you. Without you, Amira, I am nothing.”
I tried to pull away, but he only held my hands tighter in his steel like grip. “Damon, stop.”
“Amira, what do you feel for me?” he asked.
The vulnerability in his eyes was what stopped whatever protests that formed in my throat. How could I answer him truthfully? I didn’t want to hurt him, but I didn’t know what to do.
“I can’t say,” I mumbled, looking down.
My limbs went limp. Damon released his grip on my hands, and ran his fingers through his soft brown hair. A frustrated expression was painted across his face.
“What are you so afraid of, Amira? I just confessed my heart out for you. The least you could do is say something. Anything!” he exclaimed.
I closed my eyes to try to release the frustrated angry thoughts in my head. Allah, please guide me, I thought, please help me.
I debated on what I was going to say, sighing as my thoughts overwhelmed me. “Damon, this is a matter of beliefs and morals. I need to keep my self-control, but it gets harder every day. You’re... you’re all that I want,” I whispered the last part.
His eyes widened. “Are you saying that...?” he trailed off nervously.
I nodded hesitant because I knew whatever I said now would be either for the better or the worse. “I may be falling for you.”
He grinned widely before he saw my pained expression. “What’s wrong?” he frowned.
“The worst part is that I know I let it go too far. I’m scared,” I whimpered with tears pricking my eyes, but I blinked them back.
He came close to me, hesitating on whether to touch me or not. His hands stayed limp at his sides as he looked at my state.
“Why are you so scared of showing your feelings?” he asked, quietly.
“I can’t love you, Damon. One of us will be terribly hurt in the end. We can’t be together. Don’t you understand?”
He stayed silent for a few moments. I felt a bit relieved that he finally understood my reasons, but disappointed that I couldn’t be with him.
“I’ll convert to Islam,” he said casually.
My jaw dropped. “Damon, are you insane? You can’t convert for that! Changing your beliefs is a big thing. If you convert to Islam it has to be for the religion, not for me.”
“But this way we can be together, and you won’t be so conflicted.”
I shook my head. This boy, I thought. “As sweet as it is, no. I would rather you convert for the right reasons.”
He sighed. “Why are you so difficult?”
“Because I care.”
“This is one of the reasons why I love you,” he smiled.
The butterflies in my stomach only intensified. My cheeks burned as his loving gaze engulfed me in his ardor, a warm bubbly feeling in the pit of my stomach. As the wind bristled between us, the golden string from Greek myths led me back to Damon, back into a world of bliss where nothing could shatter my perfect perception of love.
Nothing except rationality.
Chapter 29
Brotherly Problems
Amira Sarker
I stood in front of the mirror, looking at myself through my reflection. When I looked in the mirror, I saw the flaws in me that others didn’t see. I saw the imperfections that I desperately tried to conceal. I saw the truth behind my eyes.
I sighed as I looked away from the mirror. I wasn’t overly beautiful, but I wasn’t bad looking either. In my eyes, there was no such thing as ugly. The true ugly people were the ones with no heart and rotten personality; the ones who were blinded by selfishness who begged for attention in the worst possible ways. I couldn’t help but wonder what Damon saw in me to say that he loved me.
I was covered completely in cloth. I didn’t show any skin except for my hands and face. Then again, Damon didn’t fall for my looks. He fell for me. He fell in love with who I am. There was that word again.
Love.
He loved me. I didn’t know if I could say that I loved him, but a part of me longed to, urging me to tell him that I wanted to only be his, but my future stopped me. I wanted to save those words for my future husband. I wanted to be completely sure before I said ‘I love you’ to another person.
Looking at the mirror again, I noticed the soft glow that covered my cheeks, making my skin look brighter, but that didn’t stop the guilt. What happened to me?
***
Damon was at my locker, waiting for me before school. He was texting on his phone, leaning against the lockers with a frown painted on his lips. His brown hair ruffled on top of his head, as the gray hoodie stretched across his broad chest. He seemed a little too angry this morning.
“Is everything alright?” I asked, walking up to him.
He jolted at the sound of voice. When he saw me, he grinned, quickly putting his phone away. “Just missing my girl,” he winked.
I shook my head with a smile. “And the pick-up lines continue.”
“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy them,” he teased.
“I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy them, did I?” I playfully questioned as I put in my combination numbers.
He whistled lowly. “Not as innocent as I thought, huh?”
I opened my locker, putting my stuff in. “Whatever, playboy. I’m still more innocent than you.”
He chuckled. “Man, I love you,” he sighed contently.
I stopped my movements. There he goes again and here I am like a lost puppy. Damon noticed my movements and came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I knew it was wrong so I find myself pulling myself away until we were a couple feet apart.
Falling in love wasn’t forbidden. Allah knew that we were only humans who couldn’t help what we felt for others, but Islam was a religion of self-control. It was a religion that taught its people to treat others with respect, and put boundaries in our social interactions. I could fall in love, but I shouldn’t act upon it.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, softly.
“Nothing,” I brushed off quickly.
He sighed. “This is about us that’s bothering you, right?”
“I just don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have to do anything. Just feel.”
I only nodded. The way Damon and I saw things were completely different. To ‘just feel’ sounded so e
asy and so simple. However, life was not like that. The life of a Muslim was not like that. This was a temptation. Just because his touches and presence felt right didn’t mean that it was right.
He leaned over and kissed my cheek before I could even move away. “Believe me on this,” he said, leaving the skin his lips touched burning from embarrassment or guilt, I wasn’t sure.
Maybe both.
Ya Allah, forgive me. I can’t control what he does, but help me control myself.
“What were you so upset about earlier?”
He raised a brow.
“You were looking at your phone and seemed distressed, why?” I asked.
Realization dawned upon him. “My dad was texting me,” he shrugged, pretending as if it was nothing of importance. From the hidden fury behind his eyes, I knew the flames of his anger came from deep within. “It’s really nothing,” he continued, placing his hands into the pockets of his sweats.
“I don’t think you’re being honest.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I know your father’s betrayal hurt you,” I said softly, “I know how much it hurts to think about.”
Seeming ambivalent, he released a deep sigh, knowing it was probably best if he talked about it. “My mom and I talked last night,” he admitted.
“And?”
He tore his gaze away from mine, finding the floor to be more interesting as he shifted from foot to foot. “I’m not ready to face him. I don’t know if I ever will be. I know he isn’t a horrible person, but this time he went too far. He hid this for years. He lived with us while knowing he had another kid with another woman, Amira. I don’t know how I can ever forgive him.”
My heart urged me to comfort him with my touch, to hold Damon close, but my mind screamed. I couldn’t physically comfort him like that. I couldn’t touch him without getting burned by my own desires. I had to stay in control.
“Maybe you should learn how to forgive,” I said.
