– Chapter 6 –
“Safiah? What are you doing here?” she questioned. Suddenly, Malia realized she wasn’t lying on her springy mattress. Kate Lockman, her roommate, wasn’t tugging on her covers gently, reminding her that classes began in twenty minutes. And the shouts of fellow freshmen in the halls weren’t echoing through the thin, brittle walls of her dorm room.
“Why are you sitting beneath a tree, Malia?” Safiah looked worried. A shadow crossed her face. “You weren’t sitting here all night, were you?” She sounded skeptical. Why is she so worried? Malia thought.
And then she remembered.
She couldn’t tell her. She wouldn’t.
She couldn’t cry in front of Safiah. Safiah had already endured so much. Her anxieties would seem trivial.
“I like nature. Especially trees,” Malia asserted. “In fact, for one of my classes, I’m doing a report on trees... uh... maple trees, specifically.” She hoped Safiah wasn’t an earnest tree lover.
Safiah eyed the note lying in Malia’s fingers. Sam’s letter, she recognized. It was smudged with stains that resembled tears. Holes were beginning to form in those spots. The water was too much for the brittle paper to handle and it was shredding. Malia gathered the torn pieces and placed them in her pocket.
“What’s happened, Malia?” she whispered.
A golden headscarf, Malia admired. A light blue dress. Such beautiful colors, she marveled. Safiah always wore the most stunning of colors.
“Malia, why aren’t you speaking?” Safiah’s eyes were not simply bright with worry. They were gleaming with fear. “Something has happened, hasn’t it? It’s your brother.” She waited for a reply. None came. “Malia, you can tell me what happened. I can help.”
The morning bells chimed, signaling the start of classes. It was ten in the morning. Safiah did not flinch a muscle. A boy on a mountain bike, a backpack strapped across one arm, zoomed past them. A cluster of giggling girls strolled by, their hair tied back sophisticatedly, a black leather handbag harnessed to each of their shoulders. A middle-aged man jogged briskly with his dog through the park while whistling classic John Lennon tunes.
“They don’t know where he is. He’s gone, Safiah,” she looked at her friend. Friend, she thought. In spite of everything, somehow she had managed to make a friend.
Safiah exhaled heavily and contemplated. After several moments of silence, she spoke. “Malia, that doesn’t mean he’s not coming back.”
“Doesn’t it, though?”
Safiah looked to the sky. At the swirls of white and blue. “When I was a little girl, I got lost in the corn fields. Every afternoon, it was my obligation to harvest the vegetables. And I got lost within acres and acres of starch. For hours I tried desperately to find my way back. And eventually, I did.” But she looked uncertain. “And maybe... maybe you’re brother will....”
“No.” Malia lifted herself from the ground, swiping her backside. She looked at her hands. They were soiled with gunk and green smears. “No. This is not like that at all. I have no way of knowing whether he’s alive or... or....”
“You can’t think like that. It will destroy you. Your brother would not want you to think like that,” Safiah stood now, as well, her dress stained with grass. But she didn’t mind.
“You know, I supported him. I told him that if this was what he really wanted, that he should go for it.” Malia was no longer speaking to Safiah. She spoke to the trees, to the shrubs, to the clouds, but not to Safiah. “I am to blame, in a way.”
“No, Malia, that is absurd. You are not at fault here.” Safiah tried to reason with her. Almost uselessly.
“But what about Danny? He promised me... he swore. That he’d protect him.” She no longer fretted over allowing Safiah to see her tears. Her vulnerability. Her weakness. “How could he let this happen? How could he do this to me?” It was almost as if Safiah wasn’t even there.
Her light blue gown was camouflaged. Blurred with the light blue tint of the sky.
“Malia!” she shouted. Her voice was no longer a thin needle. It was a fierce storm.
“What?” Malia turned to face Safiah. Her eyes were wide with desperation. She instantly regretted shouting at Safiah. Her helpless friend. Her life such a tragedy. Not too different from her own.
“Let me help you,” Safiah offered. Malia froze.
That’s what Danny said, she thought. When everything was falling apart. He said he would help me. She pictured his Red Sox baseball cap. Now when everything’s falling apart all over again, where is he? The one he never went anywhere without. Similar to him and her brother. Always together. What would Danny do now that Sam was gone? How would he go on without him?
“You already have.” She looked at Safiah. Her eyes sparkled with pain. Safiah’s heart was probably still healing, Malia thought. If it could even become whole ever again.
Safiah furrowed her brows. “How so?” Her mouth twisted in confusion.
“With everything you’ve dealt with, you still seem so strong.” Malia’s face dropped. “I just wish I could be like that.” Not for me, but for him. Wherever he is.
“You can. You just have to have faith,” Safiah encouraged. She could get through to Malia, she kept telling herself. She just had to keep trying. No matter how stubborn she may seem.
“I just don’t understand why people have to destroy. And kill. And destroy some more.” Malia brushed the hair from her eyes in frustration. “I just can’t wrap my head around it.”
“Neither can I. But you have to believe,” Safiah urged. “You said you supported your brother enrolling in the army. Why is that?” she inquired.
“Because...” Malia thought. Why did she support him? Because it was important to him? No. Basketball was important to him, also. And getting the world record for the most hot dogs eaten in a twenty-four hour time span. But it didn’t mean that she was contacting all the basketball scouts in the Midwestern area to inspect her brother’s athletic skills. And she certainly wasn’t offering to assist Sam in grilling three hundred hot dogs overnight in their backyard. Although he tried to persuade her. Multiple times.
“Because I knew that it was right. What he was doing. It was a good thing.” Was a good thing. Was it still a good thing now? she pondered.
“Exactly,” Safiah agreed, smiling.
For something admirable. For his country, Danny had said.
Danny. Where was he now? Would he be coming home? Or would she lose everyone closest to her? He had saved her from Joey Gandalini – the seventh grade bully, from Corey Simon – the grand football star, and most of all, from herself.
“I guess the only thing left to do is pray,” Malia finally declared. “And have hope.” The pangs of disbelief and denial dissolved. And she surrendered.
Together they dashed to class, enduring the remainder of the day with the knowledge that with time, the war would end. The world would heal, and inevitably, so would they.
While striding to the freshman dormitories, Malia noticed turquoise advertisements pasted on every empty space on the bulletin boards posted throughout the university. “Freshman party! Come meet your new classmates,” Malia read eagerly. This is exactly what I need, Malia thought. The prospect of chatting with strangers – carefree college students unaware of her qualms – whetted her excitement and she relished in the joys of college life.
She raced to dial Safiah’s number. Reaching in her mesh bag to retrieve her silver flip phone, she realized she had never asked for Safiah’s phone number.
“It’ll be fun. Our first college party. Plus, you’re the only person I’ve spoken to at this school!” Malia laughed. “So you have to come with me.” Malia was smiling. Safiah was shocked at this sudden change of character and hurriedly agreed. Malia stood in the hall on the velvet navy blue carpeting on the third floor of the freshman dormitory.
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“Don’t laugh, but I’ve never been to a party before,” Safiah smiled.
Malia sported a short black dress with sequins and a necklace with multi-colored crystal beads. The heels of her satin black pumps pounded against the cement of the stone path leading to Grover Hall. An innocent grin sketched on her face, Safiah lifted the thick cotton of her navy dress in her fingers to prevent it from drifting to the wet floor after several hours of afternoon showers.
Malia recalled the countless high school parties she attended most weekends at James Madison High School. Mostly due to peer pressure rather than her own enthusiasm for underage drinking and rock music.
“Malia, I don’t think it’s such a good idea for you to be going to these parties,” her brother declared. She was already dressed in a brown blouse, denim skirt and cowboy boots. She was a sophomore, and Mandy Johnson was hosting a western-themed party at her suburb mansion that Friday night. Whose idea was that? she thought.
“But you’re going, Sam,” she insisted.
“Yes. But that’s different,” he pressed. He stood in the doorway, his arms criss-crossed against his chest.
“How so?”
Malia refused to surrender. Her brother was being unfair. A double standard. If he could go, why couldn’t she?
“It... it just is, Malia. I don’t like this.” Since when did he become my parent? she remembered thinking in disgust. Now she finally understood. At least somewhat.
But not at the time.
She saw Danny lingering in the hallway impatiently.
“Danny’s going? And you’re going? But I can’t go? You’re funny, Sam. But newsflash – you’re not my father. You’re my brother.” What was he so worried about? she had thought.
“Older brother,” he reminded with a smirk.
“By three minutes! And you never let me forget it.” She had been so furious with him and so disgusted with Danny – his obedient best friend.
“There’s going to be alcohol there, Malia. It’s a senior party.”
“Oh no! Thank you Sam for letting me know. I had no idea they would be serving beer. Really, Sam, you are my hero,” she chuckled, striding confidently past her brother and inadvertently shoving Danny Sawyer in the process.
Malia felt a hand lightly shaking her shoulder.
“Malia. Malia, we’re here.” And almost immediately, she was transported back into the present. The gloomy, surreal present. If only I could go back, she thought.
They stepped into the hall. Flocks of college students stood mindlessly chatting and spinning and bobbing to tunes of the new millennium. Girls in platinum heels, sequin skirts, and jewel bangles gossiped with friends, while boys in denim jeans and J. Crew shirts pranced confidently through the hall while sipping aluminum cans of Diet Pepsi.
And there they stood. Watching it all from a distance. For several interminable minutes, Malia and Safiah simply observed, wondering what to say. What to do. But then Malia strode through the threshold, and Safiah timidly followed.
The stares of their fellow classmates were fixed on Malia and Safiah. Meanwhile, Malia eyed an alluring tray of salted sourdough pretzels, snatched a handful from the glass dish, and began lightly nibbling on one.
“Did you come here for the food, too?” a boy with light blonde hair and misty grey eyes approached her with a smile.
Malia turned to her left and saw Reese, the overly-eager chemistry fanatic from Dr. Howard’s class. She smiled. “Are you kidding? The only reason I ever come to these things is for the food. Why else?”
Safiah chuckled, and Reese abruptly gaped at her. “Who is this? Are you friends with this girl, Malia?” he asked while promptly stepping away from the Muslim girl with the twinkling eyes and unconventional attire.
Malia jumped, not anticipating a harsh tone from such a jovial character. Several sourdough pretzels spilled to the ground, crackling into pieces. White grains of salt peppered the hardwood flooring surrounding Malia’s satin shoes. “She’s a friend of mine, Reese. Her name’s Safiah. Why do you ask?”
A thick silence swept the room. A boy in a Ravens jersey pouring seltzer from a plastic bottle into a small glass unintentionally overflowed his cup. Malia could hear war droplets trickle from the metal table to the wooden floor.
“Because, no offense, but I don’t really want a terrorist at my school. Which, unfortunately, I can’t really do anything about. But I definitely don’t want her at my party,” he exclaimed, his face burning with a surge of adrenaline.
Malia’s heart heavied and she gaped at the crowd of classmates, expecting a courageous soul to speak. But not a word was spoken. Not even a gasp.
Glancing at Safiah, Malia saw that she was unhindered. Rather, her body was frozen. Her face was still as a marble statue. Even her sparkling eyes were fixed, barely even blinking. But, no. Something was different. The animation in Safiah’s eyes was absent. The smile was swept from her face. No, not merely swept. It was stolen.
“You know, my uncle died last year because of you.” A voice from the corner of the room. A man with black eyes and dark wavy hair frozen into place with globs of hairspray. Malia stared in disbelief. Because of her? Malia speculated to herself. What did she do?
“His kids don’t have a father now. What do you have to say about that?” He was looking at Safiah with unbridled anger. His hands were balled into fists.
Safiah tried to open her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
“Who do you people think you are?” Malia stood in front of Safiah, perplexed and furious. What is happening? she thought. Is this all a dream? No. This must be a nightmare. A nightmare gone horribly wrong.
“How can you speak to her like that? Treat her with such animosity. After everything she’s been through.” She felt her pulse quicken. Her body went feeble. Weary. Restless. Tired of this absurdity. “She has done nothing wrong.” Malia stood firmly between Safiah and Reese.
Reese gaped at this five-foot-three eighteen year-old who spoke so fiercely before crowds of onlookers. Then, suddenly, his face softened. He broke a smile and whispered something into Malia’s ear.
“Malia, don’t get mixed up in this. Come on,” he grabbed her arm and began gently pulling her towards the crowd. Towards the people. The silent spectators.
She urgently shook her head and freed herself from his tight clasp on her arm.
“No, Reese. You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in this.” With that, Malia pranced to the exit with Safiah following closely behind, the stares of their fellow freshman drilled into their backsides.
Safiah breathed heavily when they finally reached the darkness. “Malia, no. You shouldn’t have done that. We should have left,” Safiah gasped. “They will hate you, too, now.”
Malia stared in disbelief. “Safiah, you have to stand up for yourself. You can’t let them walk all over you. You’re better than that. You… you just have to show them that… that….”
“No, Malia. There’s no hope. I have to give it time. To wait for the world to heal.” In spite of everything, Safiah did not shed a tear. Her eyes were clear, but no longer bright. They were dark with resignation. “And then maybe it’ll go away someday.”
Sighing, Malia shuffled with Safiah to the freshman dormitories to rest after an emotionally exhausting day.
Maybe she’s right, Malia thought. But, no. What would she have done in the seventh grade if Danny and her brother hadn’t defended her from Joey Gandalini? But that was different. Much different. She knew that.
“We’ll figure this out, you know,” Malia finally declared. That’s what her brother had said to reassure her in the eleventh grade after she had been cut from the girl’s varsity lacrosse team. It had been her dream. And it was shattered by Haylie Thomas – the only sophomore ever voted captain of the varsity team. But once again, Malia’s heart sank in the realization that her sorrow was only a flare i
n comparison to Safiah’s fire of trouble.
“Right. Sure, we will,” Safiah mumbled. But then she glanced at Malia’s eyes. They were pained. “Malia, I don’t want you worrying about me. You have so much else to be… thinking about right now. Please. I’m not worth it.”
Just like her sister wasn’t worth it? Just like Beth’s mother wasn’t worth it? Malia thought quietly to herself. Sometimes she felt that her thoughts dominated her mind. Massaging her pale forehead, she felt a throb of pain. A sharp headache approaching.
After reassuring Safiah once more, they muttered their farewells. But Malia still lingered under the golden stars and silver moon of the nighttime sky, wishing vigorously for a miracle.
She glanced at the empty garden. At one last glimmer of nature. The trees swayed gracefully in the autumn breeze. But, no. Wait. What was that? She saw a shadow in the distance. A shape. A shape wearing a hat. A red baseball cap. A red fiery in the smoky darkness.
And she ran to it.