– Chapter 10 –
Her dormitory blanketed Malia in a sense of freedom, oddly enough, from the unpredictable outside world. Like rolling a pair of dice, she thought. She never knew what would happen next. Whether she would roll a winning double sixes or suffer the consequences of two disappointing ones.
Life has been kind to her, she realized. In spite of everything, she had been granted her health, her family and her friends. From experience, she knew that life had a funny way of working itself out. So she relented, released the tension in her muscles, and let life take its course. Her heart was now bursting with faith. She clung to her faith desperately. It was faith, she knew, that would carry her through.
After several minutes of lying lifelessly on her mattress contemplating the fickle nature of life, Malia heard a light knocking. A strangely yet pleasantly familiar knocking. Moaning, she jolted from her mattress and stepped through her cramped room towards the door. After leaping over piles of dirty laundry, she slid open the lock.
“Malia!” a huge smile was glued to his face. Her jaw dropped, and she felt faint. Am I dreaming? she thought. This must be a dream, she assured herself. She tried desperately to remain asleep, wishing that Kate wouldn’t return to the dorm for at least several hours of peaceful slumber. Blissful dreams with Sam as the lead actor.
“Malia! Hello? Anyone in there?” he laughed, forcefully shaking her shoulders with his hands. She looked at his fingers. There were bruises on them. There was an orange gash on his right cheek. It was almost healed, though, she noticed. It wouldn’t leave a scar.
This is what usually happened in her dreams. Sam would try to speak to her but she would remain silent. She would try uselessly to open her lips and speak, but would only release oxygen. Not words. Not even simple sounds of joy or irritation. Just air.
“Malia,” he looked worried. “What’s wrong? Don’t you remember me? I wasn’t gone that long.” He was wearing a soldier’s uniform. Dark green camouflage. He had a black Jansport backpack strapped to his shoulders. She saw a Washington University sweatshirt bursting through the zipper. Why would he have that? she thought. This must be a dream. But wait. How can I smell him? His scent was of grass and of trees. Of nature.
“S..Sam?” she whispered. “Is it really you?” The tears stung her sore eyes. Her lips were pale, her cheeks icy. She touched her fingers to her face; there was a fresh sheet of sweat pasted onto her forehead. “How… how…?”
“Malia,” he whispered soothingly. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” Somehow he never anticipated how much his family would suffer of worry. He didn’t even consider it. He casually slid past Malia and bounced onto her mattress. It crackled under his weight, but he didn’t seem to notice. He lay back restlessly, his head flat on her feather pillow and closed his eyes.
Malia tip-toed to his side, still completely breathless. He opened one eye and frowned at her. “Uh… Mal, are you gonna be okay?”
“Me? Oh, yeah. I’m fine,” she assured him. “It’s you I’m worried about.” How can he act like this? she thought. So calm. “Sam,” she breathed. “What happened?”
For the first time since his arrival, he turned somber. “Malia… I don’t think I can talk about it.”
She stared.
“It’s just too much to handle. The important thing is I’m back,” he grabbed her hand in reassurance.
“No, Sam. You have to tell me,” she slouched by his side. He sat up next to her. “I have to know. You have no idea,” she cried, “what I’ve been through these past couple of days. Sam, I was dying inside.” She lifted her eyes to his concerned stare, her cheeks pink with humiliation. She had just disclosed to him her innermost agony. And it was all because of him. It wasn’t fair.
He looked at her. Her green eyes were wet as a rainstorm and her cheeks were paler than stone. So young and innocent. He had nearly destroyed her, he could see. Thousands of miles away, terrorists savagely murdered innocent soldiers and civilians on a daily basis. But now, all that mattered was her. Sitting here feebly, her soul and spirits nearly annihilated with sorrow.
“I’m sorry, Mal. It was my fault. I tried to be brave. Too brave,” he paused, noticing an unfamiliar pile of clothes on the bed beside Malia’s. Heaps of vibrant orange pants, tee shirts, and shorts. Malia hated that color, he reflected in amusement.
“That’s okay, Sam. It’s okay to do something even if you’re scared. Someone I know taught me that one,” she smiled.
But he didn’t smile back. Instead, he grimaced in disgust. “No, Mal. Not always. Sometimes, it’s not okay.”
Her mouth twisted in confusion. He felt a sudden wave of relief as the color crept slowly back to her cheeks and her breathe began to stabilize.
“A soldier was killed. It was the first time I had ever seen someone die, Malia. And I hated it. It was wrong,” he buried his face in his palm. “Malia,” he cried, his voice hoarse and scratchy, “he had a kid. Two years old. And a wife. Newlyweds. His whole life ahead of him.” He breathed heavily. “And now,” he shouted, “now that kid will have to grow up without a Dad. Just a mother. A broken-hearted, widowed mother,” he finished his last sentence with painful slowness. His words were sluggish. As if he was pained just to release them from his lips.
Malia continued to stare, absorbing each word he spoke with utmost concentration. She would never disregard another word Sam spoke. Not since she realized how easily his words and he himself could be stolen from her life.
“So, I went after them. I went looking for the people who did it to him… to Eddy. That was his name, I think.” He looked at her, worried she would reprimand him. Scold him. Or, worse, despise him. “And Malia, I got lost,” he shrugged. “But I found my way back home. And here I am,” he pointed in disgust to himself. “At least I’m in one piece, right?” he chuckled.
She looked at his arm. It was strapped firmly in a white cast. A cast that resembled Danny’s cast. She hadn’t noticed it before. How could I not have noticed? “Sam,” she swiped the water smudges from her eyes. She could finally see clearly. Both physically and mentally. “That’s what a soldier does,” she whispered. “He takes risks and does what he thinks is right. I’ve never been more proud of you.”
He stared at her, bewildered. For several minutes they sat there in the thick silence of the afternoon. The only audible sounds were the birds chirping cheerfully through her open window and lively college students frolicking to their next class. With a wave of worry, Malia hoped her teachers wouldn’t mind her absence. But she didn’t care. She basked in the glory and spontaneity of life, while he basked in astonishment at her words of praise.
Another knock at the door. A heavier one. A stronger, more fierce knocking. But the door was unlocked, so she sat comfortably beside Sam. Still yearning that this incredibly realistic dream would never come to an end.
“Malia,” Danny entered, “There’s a really familiar looking car right outside your….” he broke his speech and stared, his jaw nearly reaching the ground.
“Nice to see you, buddy,” Sam jumped and patted Danny’s shoulder in a brotherly manner. Safiah and Beth were by Danny’s side. Both appeared dumbfounded and stunned for several minutes. Until, finally, they realized the immensity of the moment and both began to cry.
Danny was finally able to speak, Malia noticed. “Sam, how… what…?”
“He’ll explain later,” Malia rolled her eyes, smiling.
“Danny, I think we have to talk…” Sam looked serious. “About my sister. What,” he looked at Malia and then turned back to face his best friend, “is going on between you two?” His hands were crossed tightly against the front of his muddied shirt. “I think I have a right to know. You know, as her brother,” he pointed to Malia. “Your best friend,” he looked at Danny.
Malia and Danny both broke into a clamoring laughter. Danny was
blushing. “Sam,” Malia finally spoke after wiping the tears of joy from her eyes, “there’ll be time for that later. Right now, I just want to enjoy this.” She bit her lip. Everything was falling into place. Just as it should.
Sam’s view of Safiah came into focus now. “And who is this?” he asked curiously, not once removing his glance from her face.
“I’m Safiah,” she confidently asserted, extending her hand to his. The pain in Safiah’s eyes was softened, Malia noticed, but not completely evaporated. She realized at that moment that no matter what she had endured and would be forced to endure in the coming years, nothing could compare to Safiah’s troubles. Her heart soared for the timid yet powerful young woman standing right here in her dorm room, and she was grateful for the opportunity to meet such an inspiring individual.
Sam and Safiah stood smiling at each other for several blissful minutes before he turned once again to face Danny and Malia.
“When did you guys get so grown up?” he looked at them both. “I guess we’re not kids anymore, are we?” Sam laughed, looking at Danny. Danny was a brother to him, Malia knew. And he always would be. No matter what the future brought.
“How can you be kids?” Malia said seriously. “When you’ve already experienced more than I will ever experience in a lifetime?” she whispered.
“No,” she continued, “You’re something much better. You’re soldiers.”
Danny and Sam looked at each other with pride. Sam breathed. “Well, we were soldiers,” he turned to Malia. “But, I think we need to go get an education now. I have so much more to learn about this world. But mainly about myself,” Sam confessed. Malia thought of the Washington University sweatshirt she saw peeking from his backpack and realized that this simple piece of apparel held more significance than she previously determined.
“So, have you decided on a major yet? What are you gonna do when you graduate?” Sam turned to his sister.
“Well….” Yes, Malia knew. But should she tell him? Would he take her seriously? “I want to do something important. I want to make a difference in people’s lives. Like you guys.” She paused and took a breathe. “Sam, I want to work for the United Nations,” she declared. He burst out laughing.
“Malia, for real.” He was still laughing. “What are you going to do after college?”
Malia rolled her eyes. Maybe in a few years he’d believe her.
About the author:
Leora Friedman is a teen author who has been passionate about writing from a very young age. Next year, she plans to further explore her love of writing by studying English literature and creative writing in college and to continue writing in her spare time and for the enjoyment of others.
Connect with me online:
Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/teenwriter18
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