Safiah's Smile (12 page)

Malia closed her eyes. If only each student
knew of the everlasting pain that could possibly result. But, no.
It
was
an honorable thing. A thing of value. She knew
that.

“Hey, kid.” Malia jumped at the scratchy
sound of his voice. A man in uniform standing in the corner of the
room, five-feet to her left. She hadn’t realized, but she had been
standing there intently watching the ROTC meeting with eager
interest for at least thirty minutes. The appeal, as she suspected,
struck her as undeniable. Almost like an infant who reaches for a
bite of a mouthwatering toy truck, only to find her teeth in
wretched pain just moments after she grinds her teeth into the
mercury-infested paint that she thought resembled strawberries. He
couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. He sported a buzz-cut
and a pair of denim overalls that were thrown over his uniform. A
European cigarette hung loosely from the corner of his mouth. His
hand clutched a wooden clipboard that carried a slip of paper with
the messily scribbled signatures of young soldier hopefuls.

She waited.

“Let me guess. Your boyfriend in the army or
somethin’? Wanna go see him, so you thought you’d sign this roster
here and get yourself a first-class ticket to see him, that
it?”

She stared.

“You thought the ole’ government here’d pay
your way to see ‘im? That right?”

Her lips quivered noiselessly and her
fingers twitched in fear.

“Don’t be afraid, girl. I’m not tryin’ to
scare ya,” his lips broke into a bitter smile before he began
roaring with laughter. She could see a piece of the red meat the
cafeteria served for lunch bulging out between two of his yellow
teeth. “This place ain’t for you. Trust me. I’ve seen a lot of
things in my day. Things that would probably end up killing you.”
He began walking away.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she dared to
respond, her voice no louder than the sound of a thimble against a
hardwood floor. But he didn’t hear her; he simply continued
walking. She saw him high-five one of his buddies, another man –
this one slightly older, possibly thirty years old – who wore a
pair of light wash jeans that were ripped at the knees and an old
white tee-shirt.

Alarmed, she dashed from the library, the
feet of her white-wash jeans sweeping the unwashed floor,
inevitably becoming damp with soda spills and speckled with cookie
crumbs. Stooping to swipe the grime from her athletic sneakers, she
lifted her gaze to Safiah, who stood timidly before her. The first
thing Malia noticed was that her eyes were wet.
The second was Safiah’s attire; she was clothed in a lavender
floor-length dress and her hair was enveloped in a dark headscarf.
Her eyes were clean, except for several stray tears on her cheeks.
No make-up. Just Safiah.

Wordlessly, Malia and Safiah roamed in
unison to their dormitories – Malia weary from the festivities of
unruly and, she thought, juvenile cheerleaders and Safiah consumed
by her failed attempt at masking her true identity.

–
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.