Safiah's Smile (10 page)

“Danny,” she whimpered, “I hate
myself.” He looked at her perplexed. “I really do.”

“Malia, why?” he looked at her,
confused. “How can you say something like that?”

“
Because I… I just wish,”
the tears flooded from her eyes and mascara smudges stained her
pale cheeks. “I wish that Sam was here,” she cried. “Almost…
almost.” She looked at him.
Who
is he?
She just wanted her old friend back.
“Instead of you,” she whispered. “I wish he was here. He wouldn’t
be like this. He would never be like this,” she
confessed.

Danny lowered his head and nodded
in resignation. He wished more than anything that Sam was here,
too. And that he was back there. In Sam’s place. Fighting for his
life. Or, possibly, already defeated. The battle already a lost
cause.

–
Chapter 8 –

“Come on, Safiah,” Malia pressed
quietly. “Let’s go.”

Safiah obediently followed, her
eyes fixed on the tips of her suede moccasins. And there Danny
stood – defeated and broken. His head drooped, and his frail body
crushed to the red armchair. In the end, all those he truly cared
for had left him entirely alone and abandoned.

Safiah and Malia strolled
slowly through campus, side by side, not speaking. Suddenly, Safiah
paused and turned to face Malia. “Malia, you shouldn’t have done
that. Danny is your best friend. I’m not worth it.” Malia was
appalled. Danny was
not
her best friend. Beth was. But that was high
school. Was she still her best friend? They had barely spoken in
months.
What kind of friendship
is that?
“You have to go back.”

Wait.
How can Safiah say that she’s not worth it?
“No. Of course you’re worth it, Safiah,” she shook
her head. “How can you say that?” Frustration and confusion were
carved into Malia’s face.

“But Danny and you... you’ve been
friends for so long. You’ve just met me. You can’t give up a
friendship like that for me, Malia. I can’t allow you to do that,”
Safiah asserted. “You have to go back. I’m sure Danny’s still
there,” she waved her arms flimsily in the direction of the
freshman dormitory where Danny sat gloomily contemplating his
life.

Malia simply shook her head.
“Safiah, I’ve lived like that for far too long. I’ve given in to
things that I don’t believe in for too long, now. I can’t do it
anymore. I just can’t.” And with that, she circled towards the
cafeteria, her stomach growling for a batch of freshly scrambled
eggs and plates of crusty waffles drizzled in chocolate
syrup.
So it is true what they
say,
she thought.
College students
do
have rather large appetites.

“Malia? Malia,” Safiah’s fingers
were pressing gently against her arm. Trying to get her attention.
She immediately escaped her daydreams and returned to reality.
“Malia, there’s someone here who wants to speak with you.”

Malia lifted her eyes to the five
foot-four figure with straight red-auburn hair and ocean blue eyes.
She was attired in a pair of tattered skinny jeans and a light pink
sweater set. Malia looked down at the girl’s feet. Brown leather
cowboy boots. She finally looked at the girl’s face. It was thin,
but glowing radiantly with an auburn tan. The freshly glossed lips
were curved into a smile. No, not just a smile. She was
laughing.

Beth.

“Oh my goodness!” Malia shrieked,
leaping to the giggling girl and hugging her warmly. “What in the
world are you doing here?” She eyed her cashmere sweater set. “And
what in the world are you wearing?” Beth had always been the
rebellious country-girl type. Not even close to the girl who wore
button-down sweaters and actually tucked in her James Madison High
uniform. Despite how often Mr. Matthews threatened to give her
detention.

“Ms. Walters, honestly, we are not
a rodeo. We are a reputable preparatory school,” Mr. Matthews had
scolded. “What is on your feet?” He squinted at her shoes – magenta
cowboy boots that reached her knees.

Beth looked down at her feet. “Mr.
Matthews, I have always believed strongly that clothes are a
physical representation of a person’s character and personality.
Really, how can you argue with individuality and self-expression?”
Beth always knew how to baffle her teachers. Mr. Matthews stood
dumbfounded, paused momentarily, and then waltzed away with a
sigh.

Beth looked at Malia and
laughed. “I guess you can say NYU taught me a little something
about conformity. But,” she pointed to her feet, “I’ve still got
the cowboy boots,” she chuckled. “
And
the southern accent.” Beth hadn’t
stop smiling ever since she’d approached Malia and Safiah outside
the glass doors of the Washington University cafeteria.
How can she smile like that?
Malia thought.
How can she be so strong?
She hoped
desperately that someday she could be as strong as Beth. And as
Safiah. She scorned herself for possessing so many weaknesses. For
not being able to endure things with pride that so many others
could.

As Malia and Beth conversed, Danny
inched slowly towards the cafeteria. No one recognized his
presence.

“Beth, how are you doing?” Malia
turned serious. She had to make sure. Before they could laugh and
chat and behave as if nothing had changed. She had to know that
Beth was okay.

Beth’s lips automatically slid
downward in a frown. But her eyes still glimmered with energy and
radiated with life. “I’m okay,” her voice was quiet. “I mean, it
gets hard sometimes,” she confessed. “I’ve joined some clubs and
groups and stuff...” her eyes searched the campus for something.
For anything. But she couldn’t find what she was looking for. She
feared that she never would. “But I’m doing good,” she smiled at
Malia. Then she turned to Safiah, “Who’s your friend?” she inquired
curiously.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Beth, this is
Safiah.” She pointed to the reticent girl who stood shyly on the
sidelines, observing their conversation in awe.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Beth
smiled warmly, extending her hand.

Safiah was startled, but gladly
accepted the gesture. “You too,” she beamed, daintily shaking
Beth’s hand. Beth’s gold rings and silver bangles scratched
Safiah’s slender wrist. “Malia talks about you all the time. It’s
so nice to finally meet you.” The beaded fringes of Safiah’s white
gown swayed gently with the wind. The sun flared on her golden
headscarf, and her chocolaty brown skin glimmered with the break of
day.

“Wow, so are you from another
country or something?” Beth innocently asked.

“Yes,” Safiah bit her lip. “I’m
from Afghanistan. I moved to America about two years ago,” she
tugged lightly on the sleeves of her silk gown.

Beth looked wildly engrossed in
Safiah’s words. “Wow, so you’re from Afghanistan. That is so
interesting,” she beamed. “You have to tell me all about it.” Her
eyes were animated with excitement and her heart flamed with
interest.

“I would love to. There is so much
to tell. It is an exquisite country,” Safiah buzzed.

Danny jumped in astonishment at
Beth’s instant acceptance of Safiah and her culture. “Malia,” Danny
timidly approached, limping. “Hey, Beth,” he grinned awkwardly at
Beth out of politeness. He turned to face Malia. “Can I speak to
you for a minute? In private.” His face was solemn.

Malia breathed, nodding
cautiously. “Sure,” she consented. “You guys go on,” she directed
to Safiah and Beth – the two newfound friends. She always knew
they’d get along. “I’ll be right back.”

“Danny, I’m sorry about before,”
she blushed. “I shouldn’t have said those things. It was so
harsh... it was so unnecessary.... But, if that’s the way you feel,
then I don’t think we...” He slowly lifted his hand to halt her
speech.

“Malia, no. That’s what I wanted
to talk to you about.” She crossed her eyes in confusion.

“You’ve changed your mind?” Hope
suddenly sprung within her, and her heart raced violently in her
chest.

He slouched to a vacant park bench
and leisurely brushed clusters of potato chip crumbs, brown autumn
leaves, and withering rose petals from the seat beside him before
gesturing for Malia to sit.

“
I have to tell you
something,” he declared, his voice hoarse.
He sounds ill,
worried thoughts
raced hysterically through her mind.
Does he have a cold? Is it something worse?
In spite of everything, she realized, she still cared.
Desperately.

“About a month ago, me and Sam...
we were in the trenches. And something happened,” he looked at her
now, his cheeks red. “I think we both knew it would happen
eventually. It’s really inevitable, Malia. No matter how much we
didn’t want to believe it. No matter how much I wanted to hide it
from you.” He looked embarrassed. His face was stern and pale and
his eyes stone-like.

“Malia, I’ve never cried before. Never. In
my entire life. But when I saw a soldier go down… I cried like a
baby. I cried until it hurt to cry anymore. And even then, I didn’t
stop crying,” he confessed. “I couldn’t stop.” He paused,
reflecting. “It was horrible, Malia. Horrible.”

Malia frowned.
How could I be so
heartless? How could I be so selfish?
Thoughts of
self-criticism raided her mind.

“One second, I saw a nice, friendly Muslim
family. A woman who looked like Safiah and a young husband and
child,” he continued. “And then the next, they were all gone.
Smothered to pieces.” She saw tears in his eyes. For the first
time. “Along with Eddy Parker,” he coldly added.

“I guess you can call me in injured soul,”
he swallowed. “I’ve seen so much… so many horrible things that I
wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I guess all of that… it just
clouded my mind from the truth. And the truth is…”

Malia knew what was coming. She had
anticipated it ever since Danny had first questioned her loyalty to
America. To a country she was willing to risk everything for. To a
country Safiah was willing to depend solely on for her
survival.

“I was wrong. I’m a jerk. I’m an idiot,” he
continuously bashed himself, his fingers running through his
muffled hair in frustration.
How long has it been since he’s
slept?
she wondered sadly. “I’m here abusing something I’m
supposed to be defending. That it’s my job to defend.”

“And what’s that?” she asked, curiously.

He looked at her confused, as if she already
knew. As if he questioned how she couldn’t know. As if it were her
life’s mission to defend what he was paid to defend as a soldier.
“Honor. I’m supposed to defend honor. And justice. That’s what I
pledged to do. And that’s what I will do.” He paused, noticing a
loose leaf glide gently from a branch and flutter to his lap. He
lifted it before his weary eyes and stared at it for a long time
before setting it free with the smooth autumn breeze. “What I will
always do from now on.”

“I’m really happy to hear that, Danny. You
don’t know how much that means to me,” she gazed at the tree
opposite her, almost all of its leaves gone. Some lay lifelessly on
the grass beside it, while some, she knew, soared to the distance.
Finally free. “You had me worried there,” she laughed freely, no
longer fearing happiness. No longer deeming laughter unwarranted.
She
could
be happy. She deserved to be happy. She just had
to let herself experience it.

“You know, Sam didn’t take it too well at
all. That was the one time when he really broke down, Malia.” Her
spirits fell at the mention of Sam’s name. How could she even
consider happiness with Sam lost? Missing or even potentially gone
forever?

“Danny, I hope you don’t mind,” she stood
elegantly. “But could you please tell Safiah and Beth that I needed
to rest for a little while. I’m exhausted.” Her arms dangled limply
by her sides while her legs went weak with fatigue.

“Well, that makes sense,” he stood with her.
“You’ve been up all night talking to some veteran,” he smiled. “I
heard they can be a drag.”

She laughed at his ironic sense of humor.

“You know, Malia. No matter what, I’ll
always be there for you,” he assured her. His eyes were deathly
serious. No hints of humor.

“I know,” she whispered. With that, she
gently squeezed his hand and walked away.

Sinking to her bed in exhaustion, she
enfolded her slender shape in her covers. Her lids clasped shut,
and the soft cotton of her quilt tickled her arms and neck. She
swiftly snatched her hairbrush and ran its bristles smoothly
through her frizzy strands. Gently returning the brush to its place
on her nightstand, she flipped open her brutally scratched cell
phone. No calls. No messages. Heaving a sigh of relief, she sealed
her mind from the outside world and dreamed of better days.

“Malia.” Safiah approached her meekly the
following morning, her limber elbow carrying the weight of a large
brown faux leather sac. “Where are you going?”

Malia abruptly turned and swallowed hard at
the sight of the radiant Muslim girl with the thin voice who was
evidently interested in her plans for that crisp September day.
Malia saw the words
The Middle East
etched onto the spine of
the thickest of the three textbooks that bulged from her oversized
purse and gazed at it curiously.
How can she speak to me after
what Danny did?
For days she had boasted of Danny’s kindness,
of his heart of gold, and of his selflessness. Her cheeks burned as
she recalled Danny’s ludicrous prejudice towards Safiah just the
previous evening. The night that had held so much promise. A
hopeful night turned to dust.