Get Up Again

-fifteen-

I was sitting on the bed, watching BBC America on the old cable TV that was stuffed in Hiro's bedroom. It has been a few days since my nightmare, and whenever I have nothing to do, it replays in my head like a movie on a huge screen at those theaters. 

I should have asked him where Taher is. I should have gotten something out of that conversation, even though he would have probably lied to me. My thoughts were louder than the ads on the TV. I grabbed my walker and traced a finger on its many metal poles that connected the thing together. Allah, I don't get it. Don't people ever get sick of lying? 

I tried to focus on the mouth watering hamburger ad that I knew that I couldn't have because it was haram, but that didn't work. I started thinking about how Taif and Laila were doing. If they were even alive. But that lead to thinking about how good it feel to watch Hiroto get dragged into jail. 

"Kayandi-" I looked at Hiro, who was wearing a sweatshirt with the Japanese flag on it, and smiled at him. He walked over and sat down next to me. I took his hand and squeezed it. 

"Can I ask you something?" He said, looking at my face. Only then I realized that he was looking at my scars that were like three jagged highlighter marks on my left cheek. 

"Sure, but what are you doing?" I asked. Hiro gave me a sheepish grin. 

"I'm going through my father's stuff." He answered. I blinked. "I was trying to see if I could learn anything about him."

"Did you find anything yet?" I asked. He shook his head. The look on his face made me what to give him a hug and tell him to stop his search. But it was something that I didn't dare to do. It was his decision, and I knew that if he found anything, he would tell me. 

We got so close over the last couple of weeks, and even closer over the last couple of days. It was really a gift from Allah. We didn't really know each other like that until we stuffed ourselves into this house. We were too busy with classes and homework, and Taif would teach me self defense. Quran memorization. We had too much to do, even though a lot of the time we had to do those things together. 

But this. What happened through the isolation, and having no one around us besides ourselves, and having to learn together and from each other. 

That was a gift from Allah. 

"What did you want to ask me?" I asked. I looked at him. He wrapped his arms around me. The sense of safety that Allah gave me whenever he hugged me or touched me washed over me.

"Why did your father give you those scars?" I lended against his chest and held my breath. 

"The same reason why he killed Mom." I answered. The thought of Mom made me want to cry. "The same reason why they did what they did."

He didn't say anything. For a long time, all I heard was the hushed blur of the TV and our breathing. 

And then he said, "I had a girlfriend."

I grunted. Well no duh. "Not surprised." I kissed his chin. "What was her name?"

"Doris." He squeezed me, like he was scared that I would float away if he didn't hold on tight enough. "I don't understand why I went into that relationship."

"I don't understand why people even get into those types of relationships." I said. "They sound torturous."

"Kayandi." He was so serious. That wasn't like him. I looked up at him, concerned. "Doris is your father's girlfriend. And she has been since the day we started dating."