Dedicated to Icecream4me, let us all remember her in our prayers :)
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"What about him?" Zeke asked hopelessly.
"He's not your dad," I said straight out.
"Maydah, he's my dad," He sighed.
"No he's not, he told me." I insisted.
"What?!"
"He said your mom was with another guy, your dad is some one else,"
"No way," He muttered. "It makes sense now, I look nothing like Mr Daniels anyways,"
I nodded just realising that.
"But than who is my dad?" He asked.
"I don't know," I admitted, "But he's some one not very rich, that's what Daniels told me."
"Where does he live?"
"I don't know,"
"That's useful." Zeke scowled.
"My bad for not asking all the details when I was in the room with a murderer."
"Yeah, try and do a better job next time," He said roughly.
"Of course your highness." I said irratably
"How did he take the news?" Azalea asked over lunch.
"Could have been worse," I shrugged.
"Why?"
"He wants to find out who his real dad is," I said.
"Well any one would want to," She pointed out.
"Yeah,"
I walked home from school later that day. The weather was warmer, cold, but warmer. The sun was shining and the snow was melting around my feet. I had one month left to finish my entry for the artwork and I had barely started. I watched the kids being picked up by their moms trying to unstress myself. If my mom was around she would have picked me up from school, cooked my lunches, talked with me for hours and hours, kiss me goodnight and tell me I'm beautiful.
But as I carried on thinking, my dad did all of that. Dad was perfect, he played the role of both parents in one and he couldn't be better at it. We were still a family, even if it was only two of us.
I finished my homework at eleven at night and went downstairs. Dad wasn't going to sleep until I did, I think he's still shaken about all that drama last night.
"Good night dad," I said entering the living room to see him restlessly flicking through the newspaper.
"Good night Maydah,"
I turned to leave when he called me back.
"Maydah?"
"Yeah dad?"
"What do you say about a trip back home?" He asked.
"You mean to Lebanon?" I asked.
"Yeah, for a vacation, I think we both need it, and Lebanon is the perfect place," He nodded.
"It is the perfect place." I agreed, thinking about the warm weather and sandy beaches and fried food. "When are we planning to go?"
"As soon as possible." Dad said seriously.
"Why?" I asked, scared by his seriousness.
"No particular reason. Just thought we need the break as soon as possible," Dad shrugged.
"Why?" I asked, still curious.
"Because if Daniels killed your mom for trying to spread the word about his 'children as lab rats' scandal, than God knows what he'll do to you." Dad said exassperated.
"What do you mean dad?"
"Maydah, the whole neighbourhood is buzzing with rumours about this issue, kids are telling their parents everything. The only reason no action is being taken is because they are kids, and they are not taken seriousley. But Daniels knows the truth, and he knows the rumours."
"But dad, mom was killed because she was spreading the word. I play no role in this any more. Those kids held in the authorities are spreading the word. Killing me will do him no good." I said.
"I lost your mother for being blind. I'm not going to make the smae mistake twice."
"Dad, what happned to mom was not your fault," I said softly.
"It was," He said helplessly, "I had no idea about the depth of the situation, I took it lightly, I was seeing the illusion the authorities had created. And when your mother died, it was like their glass illusion had shattered and I woke up. I'm not loosing you Maydah."
"So when are we going?"
"Now." Dad stated, "Go pack your bags."
I silently climbed up the stairs, trying to think about the smiling sun instead of the grim darkness that surrounded me here.
"Flight 242 boarding for Serbia in ten minutes," The airport lady announced.
Zeke Daniels pulled his hoodie over his head and swung his backpack, over his shoulder with the passport and boarding pass firmly in his hand.
"Here you go," He handed it to the air hostess.
"Have a nice flight," She smiled handing it back to him.
He took is seat in the back row, resting his head on the chair. He would reach serbia in eight hours.
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YOU ARE READING
Journal of a Teenage Muslim.
Teen FictionMaydah Ahmad was never a normal girl. Ever since she was a young girl, it was clear to tell she was made for something bigger, something better.. But than her mother died, leaving Maydah and her father to cope on their own. After that her life was n...
