Battered, With Love

Chapter 14 -- Omar Khan

“Stop playing games. For you, it’s fun. Hell, it’s always fun for the winner. But have the decency to see the other side of it, the side of the person you just played.” – Ash

             Omar Khan. I hope somewhere out there, someone thinks of the name and smiles in fondness. I, on the other hand, can only think of that name and feel the smile slip from my face. Happiness and sadness are peculiar things; happiness takes so much to attain but eight letters, just eight letters manage to snatch that happiness away and turn it into…sadness. No—not sadness. More like anger. More like why-did-I-ever-open-up-my-heart-to-love. Did I love Omar in the romantic sense? No. It was a different kind of love. I loved him how one heart loves another—because of the purity and goodness in it. Could Omar and I have happened? Quite possibly. They say it’s never too late, but they never realize that once two people grow, it’s never the same again. It can’t be. So it is too late.

            Omar and I both moved to Marquenion in elementary school. I had moved from Boca Raton and he had moved from Ohio. As kids we both went to Sunday school but never really talked to each other; he always hung out with the boys; I, with Sayeeda and Harun and occasionally a few of the now prissy and dimwitted girls that I have the pleasure of attending school with.

            The thing about Omar is that he always just had it in him. The ability to charm people, I mean. I know girls always go on about how amazing a certain guy is and how he’s always so charming and whatnot. But Omar’s charm is different. There’s something about Omar that makes people gravitate towards him, and it goes past his looks. I think that the charm that a lot of other guys have is because of their looks. Well, for Omar, it’s not even that. It’s the way he carries himself, the way his eyes glint, the way he walks. It’s all of those things. Because the thing about Omar is that he always knew what he was doing. More importantly, he was always confident with every step he took. So naturally, he grew quite popular, and quickly. I remember being in elementary school, in fifth grade, actually, when I met him, and knowing who he was, and that was back in the day when we went to different elementary schools.

            One day, at Sunday school, Omar broke away from his group of guy friends and, as everybody watched, walked over to Harun and began having a conversation with him despite the obvious limitations.

“Want to play lacrosse with me at my house next week?” That’s how he said it, just outright like that.

            That’s Omar for you. He always had that magic within him, this ability to make everything look so effortlessly easy. He was the first person I saw who made it seem like it was okay to want something and to go against everything to get it. And for that, I’ll always admire him, no matter how cocky or how screwed up he is.

            Long story short, our parents talked, and Harun, Sayeeda, and I were allowed to go over to Omar’s house to play lacrosse with him. I remember the car ride over that, so nervous about how Omar would treat lacrosse.

            The car ride is silent as Dad drives us to the other side of town, where Omar lives. Sayeeda and I are in the middle row of seats and Harun is chilling in the back. Sayeeda and I are silently talking to each other with our eyes and facial expressions. I can’t shake the nervous energy in the pit of my stomach.

            Too soon, Daddy rolls up in Omar’s driveway and the tires make that crunching sound as they hit the pavement. “Okay, kids. We’re here.” He declares. He opens the doors for us and Sayeeda gets out first. I get out from my door, and Harun steps out last. We shuffle to the front door with Daddy behind us, our Converse tentatively making steps on the walkway to the front door.