Safiah's Smile (8 page)

“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 in 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.

–
Chapter 7 –

“Sam?” she shrieked while
sprinting to the foggy shape in the distance. But she knew it
wasn’t him. Sam was an Orioles fan, and Danny was the Red Sox
fan.

“
It’s me, Malia.” Although
she couldn’t see his face, she knew it was somber. She could hear
it in his voice. His thin, aching voice. “Sorry to disappoint.” His
tone was mocking. No, it was joking.
How can he joke at a time like this?
she wondered.
Did he even
care?

Of course he did.
How could he not?

“Danny,” she whispered.

Extending his weary hands
towards the darkness, he enclosed her fingers in his grasp as she
guided him towards the light – towards the lobby of the freshman
dormitory. The beams of electricity blinded her tired pupils as she
squinted at Danny, wondering if his presence was simply a
hallucination. It was all too good to be true.
How can this be real?
she
wondered.

His hair appeared greasy and
scruffy, and his face was unshaven. His eyes were not simply red
with pain but bleak with exhaustion. Nonetheless, he gazed at Malia
with undying focus and attention, keenly watching her every move.
Intently catching her every syllable.

“You look tired,” she laughed,
smiling for several moments before swiping the childlike grin from
face after recalling the events of the day. After recalling her
brother. She looked at his feet. A thick white cast was strapped
tightly around his right leg up to the knee. He limped awkwardly to
the lobby and slumped in a ruby red armchair with a sigh.

She sunk to the black sofa
opposite him and stared. Simply waiting. So much had changed so
drastically and inevitably in the months since graduation.
Do I even know who he is
anymore?
She turned her glance towards the
ground, his stare too penetrating and intense to tolerate.
It’s almost like I’ve lost someone
who’s sitting right in front of me.

“Malia, say something,” he
pleaded. “Don’t leave me hanging here.” She looked up. He was
grinning.

“Danny, how can you laugh at a
time like this?” Her dark waves flowed loosely around her
oval-shaped face. Her olive headband matched the hazy green pigment
of her eyes and her cheeks were rosy – slightly from the blush she
delicately applied hours prior, but largely from fatigue.

He plainly ignored her question
and continued to stare. She watched him attempt to speak several
times, but he clumsily stumbled on his words and grunted in
frustration.

“
Danny, why can’t you talk
to me?” she questioned, confusion and worry in her eyes. But mostly
fear. Angst and anxiety at the prospect that things would never be
the same. She desperately needed things to be the same. Then she
remembered Sam.
How can things
ever be the same?
she thought, tears
prickling her eyes. “It’s just me. Malia.” her voice crackled. “Why
won’t you speak with me? Please, Danny.”

“Malia,” he saw the pain in her
eyes. She must know, he thought. “This isn’t easy for me.” He
locked his glance on her glossy satin pumps. His right, injured leg
was inelegantly sprawled across the footstool between them.

“What isn’t easy for you?” she
inquired.

He looked in her eyes. “To talk
about it. To tell you things... things that you shouldn’t know.”
His hands, which were previously wrapped firmly across the back of
his head, slapped to his lap.

“Danny, stop trying to protect me.
I’m a big girl now,” she insisted. The beads of her crystal
necklace were irritatingly scratching her neck, so she swiftly
removed the chain and dumped it to the black, feathery carpet with
ease.

“I can see that,” he smiled. “A
college freshman. I always knew you could do it, Malia.”

She couldn’t keep herself from
breaking a smile. But she knew what he was trying to do. To change
the subject. To keep her from discovering the truth. To shield her
from what she needed to know.

“So what do you think of college?
Is it everything you always thought it would be?”

She stared.

“I really hope it is. For your
sake.” It was almost as if he didn’t even notice her indifference.
Or maybe he simply chose to ignore it. “I always knew you’d like
college. You were always such a good student. So dedicated.” His
glassy glance was fixed on the opposite wall. Not on Malia.

“Danny, you were the one who
always told me that I can’t hide things from people.” He looked at
her curiously. “Last year, when Beth’s mom... when she was killed,”
she cringed at the mere sound of the word, “you told me ‘you can’t
keep these things inside, Malia.’” The tears did not merely prickle
her eyes now. They flooded down her pink cheeks, as she inhaled
deeply. “That was one of the hardest times in my life. But... but
somehow I got through it,” she looked at him now. His face screamed
with sympathy. His eyes shrieked of apology. But he still remained
silent. “I know about Sam, Danny. My Mom called me this morning.”
Could he even hear her words through her scratchy, subtle tone? She
removed her silky black sweater and swiped it roughly against her
swollen eyes and damp cheeks. “I just... I... just tell me. I can
handle it. Is he coming back, Danny?”