A Chance For Love

  ***

  "What if he doesn't come back?" I asked. For the past five minutes, I'd been staring at the door.

  "You shouldn't worry," Farah said. "He wouldn't want to miss this, trust me. He loves performing."

  Stella tilted her head toward the door. "There he is."

  With an electric guitar strapped to him, Raheem strode back into view. Strumming his guitar, he sauntered towards the counter, his temporary stage.

  "Can you heal my heart," he sang. His voice brimmed with colorless emotions, causing my heart to sink. "It's bleeding."

  More than half of the audience held their phones in the air, recording the live show. Now more than ever, I wished I had a phone.

  Raheem clutched his guitar as though it were the most important thing in the world; as though his life depended on it. Squeezing his eyes shut and flinging his head backward, he strummed his guitar, sending off a haunting echo of his song's intro. Was he in pain?

  Working a magic I couldn't fathom, he switched his guitar notes from painfully quiet to one I could almost dance to. I listened intently to the lyrics as he sang on, faster this time:

  Can you heal my heart

  It's bleeding

  Can you fix my soul

  It's broken

  The intensity of his voice awed me into breathlessness. His eyes settled on me, hitting me full force with the bitter emotions behind them. His song had me thinking. Who had broken his heart?

  Can you feel this deep despair

  A void in my chest

  Where I once had a heart

  Until you came along

  Ripping it with your lies

  With your lies

  "Wow," Stella said. "He is just? Wow."

  "His voice," I said. "It's so intense."

  "He's my personal Oliver Sykes!" Farah said. "Doesn't he remind you of him?"

  "Never heard of him," I said.

  Farah seemed stunned. "You don't know Bring me the Horizon? He's the band's lead singer."

  I wanted to believe Raheem had just composed his song without anyone in mind. But the pain evident in his voice led me to the other possibility; that he'd written this for a girl he used to love.

  "Raheem's song, what's it called?" I asked.

  "With your lies," Farah said.

  "It's a sad song," I said. There. The perfect bait. If he'd written the song for someone, Farah would tell me.

  "It sure is," Farah said, watching the stage. Moments passed, and she said nothing.

  I didn't want to come off as nosy, but I had to get Farah to tell me. It probably didn't matter if he'd written the song for someone, but I had to know. "Who's it for?"

  "Jameela," she said. She seemed to have been expecting my question. "She used to be their lead singer. She had a thing for Raheem. But then, there was Austin, a transfer student. At first, Raheem kept his distance because he thought Austin and Jameela were an item."

  My mind filtered Farah's last sentence, and chose to revolve around the first two words. At first. At first, Raheem kept his distance. At first. This only meant he didn't succeed in the end.

  "But she said they were just friends," Farah continued. "Everyone thought it best for Raheem to go for it. When I say everyone, I mean me, mum, and the other band members, who were at that time his only friends. As for dad, he was just indifferent about the whole thing. Well anyway, it turned out that Jameela wasn't the angel we thought her to be. She and Austin were an item, and we only found out when he confronted Raheem, which had a very ugly end. He started a very scary fight that led to him being suspended, and Raheem expelled. Jameela didn't know how to face Raheem after that, and so she left the band. That was how he came up with the song. With your lies. He never had a chance to perform it, though. The war came along."

  "With your lies," Raheem concluded, his voice barely a whisper. He bowed at the overly excited crowd slamming their palms together with beaming faces.

  I joined in the applause. "He's good at what he does."

  "More, more, more!" a kid squealed.

  "Sing us another song," a man said.

  "Okay," Raheem said. "I'm singing just one more. For the kid. This one is called 'Highway to Yesterday.'"

  "This is my favorite Impaling Sedation song," Farah said. "You are so going to love this one, guys."

  As long as it didn't involve some girl from Raheem's past, I sure would.

  And I did love it.

  Drawn by Raheem's song, a crowd streaked in through the door, doubling the audience. They bobbed their heads up and down as they watched him use his voice to the fullest. Girls screamed out in sheer excitement as he stomped and staggered. This part made me scowl. Rockstar Raheem had killer moves. But did the girls have to be so obvious about it?

  Raheem sang on, strumming hard, unleashing all his pent up anger on the guitar. His dramatic picking made the crowd cheer even wilder. It stunned me how an orderly group of people had morphed into an uncontrollable, noisy crowd.

  Raheem sang the chorus for the third time. Everyone sang along as though they'd known the song all their lives. I did too.

  At the end of the chorus, Raheem strummed even harder, spinning his head around in circles wild enough to break a bone or two. Moves like this deserved the 'kids, do not try this at home' caption.

  I feared for his neck. An end to his head banging session made me release the breath I'd been holding. I'd expected him to show a sliver of fatigue after rotating his head so fiercely. But he went on just fine.

  "Incredible!" I cried out.

  For a dramatic effect, Raheem threw his guitar in the air. My breath caught as I watched it flip right back into position. I wished this show could go on forever. But just like every other good thing, it ended. Jumping to my feet, I joined the crowd in a thunderous applause.

  An outrageous crowd of Raheem's new fans-most of which were girls-closed in on him, blocking him out of sight.

  "What are they doing?" I asked.

  "The expected," Farah said. "They are no doubt taking his number so they can be present at his next show."

  "Will there be a next?" I asked.

  "Didn't you see the look on his face?" she asked. "I'm sure he can't wait to do this all over again!"

  Staring at Raheem's fans, Stella said to Farah, "If Raheem lives through this, tell him we enjoyed his show."

  Farah's face dulled as she watched Stella signal the waiter. "You're leaving?"

  "Yeah," Stella said.

  "You'll be in school on Monday, right?" I asked.

  Farah sighed. "I'll try."

  The waiter strode to us, his well-trimmed smile still on his face. He received our bill from Stella and made to speak, but she beat him to it. "Keep the change."

  "You are so kind," he said. "I hope you enjoyed dining here."

  "Why, yes we did," Stella said.

  The waiter directed his attention to Farah. "Thank you for the quality entertainment you initiated. Our customers are extremely satisfied today. I'm sure the manager will seek to hire him. He's a fine young man."

  "He sure is," Stella said. We simultaneously vacated our seats. Waving Farah goodbye, we made for the exit.

  I turned around to cast Raheem one last glance, and perhaps wave him goodbye, but his fans had built a solid wall around him. Sighing, I walked away.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Sisters

  "She's been going all around Facebook, speaking of her huge crush on that new Iraqi guy who thinks he's Sherlock Holmes."