– 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?”
He saw that she relied entirely on his response. Her happiness and her spirits. They all depended solely on his words. His heart raced wildly. Shivering, he sensed a sudden rush of cold and gently brushed his palm across his arms.
“Malia, I’m not sure,” he swiped the sweat from his forehead. “I don’t know where your brother is,” he mumbled, never once removing his fixed glance from her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
She buried her face in her palms, muffling her cries. Her cheeks were coated with a fresh layer of tears that trickled down her chin and stained the neckline of her black sequin dress.
“I promised you,” he reflected. “That day, after graduation. I promised I’d protect him.” His uninjured leg trembled harshly against the ground. He shuffled his muddled hair in frustration, and then, suddenly, he softened. “For you. I promised we’d both come back. And here I am. I’m back. And he’s...” his face drooped and his arms fell limply to his sides. “He’s not.”
“Danny, I don’t blame you,” she whispered earnestly. “I really don’t. I know that you must’ve done everything you could.”
“I would have died for him, Malia. I would have done it for him. And for you.”
“That’s not what I would have wanted. Every soldier for himself, right?” she laughed artificially, her mouth twisted in disgust.
He looked at her amusedly. “I was never such a fan of that slogan.”
“Oh. That’s right. You’re only a fan of baseball teams that never win. I almost forgot.” The words flew from her lips before she even knew what she was saying. How can we joke like this after everything that’s happened? she asked herself. How can we act like everything is normal when it’s not? It’s far beyond normal. It’s verging on tragedy.
“I don’t blame you, Danny,” she pressed.
“If only I had stayed with him,” he continued. “Why couldn’t I break orders? Why did I have to listen to the general? Why do I always have to follow the rules?” He was barely even addressing her at this point. He was simply speaking to the thick layer of warm oxygen surrounding him, to the white wall opposite him, and to his bitter, cynical self.
“Danny, I don’t blame you,” she repeated.
“He’s just a kid. What was I thinking letting him join the army?” He spoke as if he were Sam’s father. His guardian. His protector. “I supported him. I told him it was a good idea. That I would go with him, and that we’d have the time of our lives,” his lips curved upward in a smile. “The time of our lives,” he repeated. His lips were now crooked in horror as he reflected on the irony of his words.
“I don’t blame you, Danny!” Malia shrieked, trying to penetrate his stubborn mind.
“I should have been the first one to notice he’d been gone too long. I was his best friend. But I just let myself get too caught up in everything else. Everything else that wasn’t important. And I forgot. How could I
forget about him? Maybe we could’ve found him if I had noticed sooner. Why didn’t I notice sooner?” His voice echoed shrilly in the large, vacant downstairs room.
“Danny, I don’t blame you,” she whispered. He finally remembered her presence and turned to face her. “Please don’t blame yourself,” she begged.
“You have no idea, Malia. No idea,” he shook his head in resignation.
She was horrified. What is he hiding? she thought. Why is he afraid to talk to me? “Then tell me, Danny. Tell me. I need to know. Maybe if you tell me about what you guys went through over there, and about... about Sam,” her heart ached in agony at the mere mention of his name, “things might get better. At least a little,” she urged.
He looked at her face and sighed. Her green eyes beamed with fear, but also with intensity. An intense desire to know. “Alright,” he finally surrendered. With a sigh, he cleared his throat and disclosed to her his experiences as a soldier. At least the ones her fragile mind could handle. The ones her innocent heart could tolerate.
“At first, everything was fine,” he started nonchalantly, his tone casual. “Life was fine. Training was tough, but we got through it together. Sam was great,” he smiled. “You should’ve seen him, Mal.” Danny seemed to be entering another universe – a universe filled with joyous visions of the past. Sweet memories of just months prior.
“He worked so hard. I have never seen him work harder in his life, Malia. He was amazing. Everyone was jealous of him. The generals loved him. I never thought I’d see the day when an authority figure would actually admire our Sam, Mal, but they did. They really did. And then,” his eyes which had been focused on the ceiling in a reflective stare now reached Malia’s glance and turned solemn.
“And then they set us free. To fight. They said we were ready. But I don’t think they were telling us the truth. They didn’t think we were ready, and neither did we. But that’s what war is – fighting for what’s right even if you’re scared. And I think everyone was scared, Malia,” he confessed. Malia didn’t notice before, but he had a slim red gash under his left eye. How did I not notice? They had been conversing for about an hour now. I wonder if it’s burning. Maybe that’s why he seems so bitter. In such agony. But somehow she knew that wasn’t why at all. His affliction stemmed far deeper than the physical.
“That is, everyone but Sam was scared. He didn’t seem scared at all.” He reflected on his words. Why wasn’t Sam scared? he thought. Maybe if he was just a little more scared, he’d have been more careful. More cautious. Maybe he’d be here right now, sitting with them at Malia’s school. Chatting casually about major league baseball and the latest Harry Potter film. Maybe everything would be normal. His mind swelled excruciatingly with the mere thought of what could have been.
Malia was still staring intensely at Danny. Waiting patiently. Her thirst for knowledge about her brother was not yet quenched. But, no matter how much Danny revealed, he knew that her hunger for information would never be satisfied. Not until she knew where he was. Not until he came back.
The hours passed swiftly, as Danny proceeded to reveal to Malia a side of her brother she never knew. A person she was never acquainted with. A virtual stranger.
A stranger she could not be more proud of. She beamed in admiration and praise for her brother. For his courage and his strength. For the lives he saved. For the honor he defended. When he was done speaking, Danny glanced at her expectantly.
“Thank you, Danny,” she whispered. “Thank you for that. Maybe... maybe our story will have a happy ending, after all,” her eyes glimmered with hope. But she instantly lamented her words. She knew they were lies. The optimism would fade and the joy would dissolve. Their lives would once again drip with regret and drizzle with sorrow. Their hearts would once again choke with the thought of what could have been. With the notion of an empty future. A future without Sam - her brother and his best friend. An integral part of their lives. A hole unfilled. A hole that may possible never be filled.
What if...? What if...? The infinite possibilities of the mysterious future haunted her mind. But she closed her eyes firmly in an attempt to erase these useless thoughts. To focus on the present, rather than the inalterable past etched in stone and the unknown future not yet exposed.
The sunlight radiated through the sheer white curtains and pierced Malia’s pupils. Shielding her eyes from the blinding beams with her palm, she saw a thin figure approaching from the rickety stairway.
“Malia?” a small voice inquired. The figure was wearing a flowing white gown. A yellow paisley scarf draped loosely around the brim of her head and the tip of her pointed chin.
“Safiah. Good morning,” Malia muttered. Suddenly, she recalled the events of the previous night and frowned. “How are you feeling?”
“I... I’m fine,” she stuttered. Then she turned her glance curiously to the shape that sat limply opposite Malia. The shape that stared at Malia with rigid focus.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Safiah, this is Danny. We went to high school together,” Malia pointed unconcernedly to Danny, who was clad in his soldier’s uniform. Safiah gazed at the brace strapped firmly around his right leg and her mind clouded with pity. Then, almost immediately, a wave of idolatry reached her sparkling eyes.
“Oh, I know,” she beamed with gratitude. “It’s very nice to meet you,” she timidly extended her hand towards him, as if about to shake the hand of a king. His ragged attire was suddenly transformed into the purple garments of royalty.
He immediately grimaced, scowling at her floor-length dress and religious garb. “Malia, who is this?” He turned towards the familiar face – towards Malia. Malia could trace the fear in his eyes. His brows furrowed and, with pitiful difficulty, he clumsily rose from his seat and stepped slowly backwards from the Muslim girl who spoke so casually and freely to Malia. As if they were friends. How can they be friends? he thought. His pulse quickened and his spirits fell. He knew his life would never be the same. It was almost as if he didn’t even know who Malia was anymore. Why can’t we just go back to high school? We would all appreciate it so much more now after everything that’s happened.
“Danny, this is my friend. Safiah,” she repeated. She stood firmly beside the Muslim girl now, as if physically and emotionally attached to her. As if their hearts were intertwined. Their souls interlaced.
So much confidence, Danny thought. Where did it all come from?
“Danny, what’s wrong?” Worry swept Malia’s face – pale as a pigeon – as Danny stumbled even further towards the exit. “Why are you acting like this?”
Safiah locked her glance to the black carpet and glumly yearned that she could dive headfirst into its bushy threads and shield herself in its warm embrace. It was happening again. A nightmare once again repeated. But now, she might just lose Malia in the process. Her one friend. The one person who understood. She wordlessly prayed that Danny would have compassion. He’s a soldier, she thought. He must have compassion for me. It’s his job to defend the oppressed and to pity the weak. Isn’t it?
“Malia, I’m sorry. But, after everything I’ve been through in Afghanistan. All of those people who terrorized us. Fighting to defend their country... these people... with no souls. Literally. Malia, they have no souls. I mean, look at what they did to Beth’s mom.” He reached a soft spot. She knew what he was trying to do. She recognized his attempt at manipulation. Irrational, baseless manipulation. She nearly melted at the thought of Beth’s mother, but she maintained her composure. Her glaring gaze bore deeply into his mocking stare. “Look what they did to all of those people in New York who died last year, Malia. I just don’t get it. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.” Her muscles grew tense at his harsh, condescending words.
What is he thinking? she thought. Why is he being like this? She vaguely recalled the old Danny. The thought brought
painfully blissful memories. The Danny who would defend her from savage junior high bullies and heartbreaking football quarterbacks. It made no sense. It was completely illogical. How can he do this to me? she pondered.
“Danny, you… you’ve got it all wrong,” she started, her voice agitated. “Safiah and her family… they left Afghanistan a couple of years ago because her younger sister died. They had nothing.” She hoped Safiah wasn’t too offended at her blunt approach to such a sensitive subject. “How can you treat her like this after everything she’s dealt with?”
“Malia,” he softened his tone. It was no longer fierce and burning with fury and disgust. But it was still mocking. “I pity her, yes. But it doesn’t change the facts. We’re from America, me and you. We have to be loyal to our country,” he explained, as if speaking to a child.
“I am loyal to America, Danny. And so if Safiah,” she declared, her tone unwaveringly strong. Her eyes blazed with frustration at the person who ridiculed her dedication. She who had lost everything for her country. Beth’s mother. Sam. How could he question her loyalty? “Me and Safiah… we’re more loyal than you will ever be.” She immediately regretted her words. Who knows what he had to contend with in Afghanistan? He was braver and more loyal than both her and Safiah combined, she knew. But she had to make her point. He had to understand. She knew that their friendship and her sanity depended on his ability to empathize with Safiah. Why can’t he see? she repeatedly asked herself in frustration.
“Malia, come on,” he softly urged. “Let’s go get some coffee. This is ridiculous. You’re being ridiculous,” he smiled jokingly. She didn’t return the favor. She wriggled free from his gentle pull and shook her head nervously, sensing her entire world crumbling to pieces all over again. Except this time, Sam wasn’t here to save her. And Danny, certainly, could not rescue her from her inevitable demise. Only Safiah. The girl, and the idea, she was willing to defend and for whom she was willing to jeopardize everything. And here Danny stood tearing her heart to pieces. Safiah had made her believe, had brought her faith. How can Danny ridicule her? Who has he become? the thoughts shrieked in her mind.
“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.