Breaking Point

21

"So, I wasn't going to shoot them." I told Ms. Ackerman.

The physiatrist let out a sigh. She had listened to my entire explanation with great care, never interrupting and every once in awhile, jotting down a few notes on her clipboard. I finally fell silent and she lowered her gaze to the ground and nodded once.

"You do realize that we will have to keep you here overnight." She told me.

I had assumed that that would be the case. After all, I had just relayed an entire story of how I had almost taken my own life. I nodded, and she firmly placed her hand on my shoulder, smiling kindly. 

"Abdullah," She said, her eyes wet. "You are one of the strongest kids I've ever met."

I dont reply, instead I look away. I didn't feel strong. She sits there for a few more minutes maybe waiting for me to say something. I feel empty and depleted. She finally stood up and murmured some things about a nurse and vitals and something. I drown her out and I suddenly remember my mother.

"My mom." I blurted out.

"Oh yes, we've contacted her."

My heart lurched.

- - -

My mother crushed me into a hug when she sees me, and immediately started sobbing. I stayed still as tears of guilt leaked down my face. She lets go a few times to look at my face and to tell me how stupid I am, how glad she was that I was alive, and how she would never forgive me, and that I was the only thing she had left.

I let  her, and listen and cry.

Finally when she is done, and her eyes and swollen and red, she sits at the edge of my bed and recited Allah's name over me. When she blows on my face I feel unworthy.

"They said you fell unconscious." She sniffled. "But I could only think of the worst. They said you had a gun."

"It wasn't mine." My voice sounded far away.

"Abdullah, I know things have not been going right." She stared at her hands. "But what you almost did..."

We both stayed silent for a long time.

"I just wanted this all to end."

It made me think of Salma's words, when she told me she wanted all her pain to go away, when she told me she wanted all her problems to go away. She chose to run and I chose to almost kill myself. Humans were all selfish, I guess. We all had problems, and we all suffered, but instead of staying together to make it easier for each other we just chose to abandon one another. I blinked at my mother. If there was anyone who wasn't selfish, it was her. She hadn't abandoned me.

"What makes you hold on, ma." I croaked out.

She looked up. "Allah."

"But...He..." I stopped. 

It was like infidelity to question God. It was morally wrong, and we were taught, no it was ingrained in us to accept His word, His teachings. No buts. No ifs. 

No questions.

But here I was.

"Why does He let us suffer?"

"But does He?" My mother asked me.

I stared at her. What did she think was happening? It wasn't as if we were sitting in a field of roses having a cup of chai and watching cotton candy shaped clouds drift overhead. We were in a hospital for God's sake. We weren't happy. We were crying, and broken.