Wounded: Our Journey Home

Wounded- Chapter Five

Edited

cover credits: @xaharau

Published: July 15, 2015 Wednesday 11:49 p.m

Jafar:

July 4th

           "So what's the plan?"

        Shrugging at me, Wasim took a bite out of his sandwich and quickly adjusted the steering wheel to ensure he doesn't crash. I knew I should have driven after we left McDonald's, but he insisted because of his limited time with the car. Aunt Fatimah--Wasim's Ummi and my step-mother wasn't at the house this morning. Like a lot of the times when I lived here, she would be helping with the children's Fourth of July games like every year. And since neither Wasim and I wanted to cook after last nights "sleep over"--more like  Wasim and I playing video games at various hours of the night and snacking on chips.

          And now, after we got our hot and ready breakfast, we're going over to my parents house. They don't know I'm back yet, and as much as I want to suprise them tonight, I know that's not the best idea after all these months. Jamila will try to assault me verbally.

          "So, you want to suprise Ayah and not your parents?"

        I nodded and took another bite of my sandwich. "I'm not going to treat my parents like that--absolutely disrespectful."

         As we neared the street to my old house, Wasim pulled out his second sandwich from the bag. I don't understand how he can eat this much. Like I said, he had chips all night, before we left he ate a pop tart and now he's on his second sandwich. If he wasn't a guy, I would think he was pregnant.

          "Did you think about how the suprise is going to go?" He asked through a mouthful of food.

        I shook my head. "No, but I want to do something to show how sorry I am for not contacting. But as we all know, Ayah isn't the surprise type."

          Wasim laughed and pulled into the driveway. "That is a true statement, my brother."

          Wasim and I stepped out the car and gazed at the two story house I called home for twenty-six years. It used to look so nice growing up--white shudders, nice coat of paint, you name it. But as I look at it now, I feel even more guilted. The house looks so run down and lifeless. Given that the only people living here are my parents and my younger sister Jamila--the house lost its touch, and I can't help but feel that I had something to do with that.

        With the money I get for performing and my albums, I could have done more.

         "Are you going in?"

         I twisted in my stance to see Wasim looking at the house with the same expression as I do: remorse.

        "What's happened in the last couple of months?"

        "Aunt Zulakha and Uncle Ziyad clean up sometimes, but not since he had surgery for his knee. Nowadays she gardens and he works in the tool shed."

         I gave him a strange look to where he held his hands up in defense. "I do have friends who live on this block, y'know? I don't stalk your parents."

          "Right," I Rolled my eyes. "I guess it's now or never."

          Pushing myself to move towards the door, I let out a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

-*-

        Um Jafar placed the crockpot on the correct time before moving to finish making the icing. Today was the day. The day that the town would first have a small festival before doing fireworks later. Everything had to be perfect. After all the town has put into it like every year, everyone was expecting nothing less then tbe best, and she was determined to give them something they wouldn't forget.